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I’m like a moth to a flame. A dog with a bone. A king cobra with a—
Focus.
There’s a picture of Liam up on the screen and a list of his known thefts. I scan down the lines. Mostly artwork and artifacts. Whoa, hold it, they think he stole a lambor-freaking-ghini? Maybe I should have given him more of a chance.
Stop it, Amelia. He’s a killer.
Towards the end of the page, a date catches my eye. A date that’s been burned into my heart forever. October 25, 2019. The day my parents died.
What did Liam steal that day? I scan across the row. A twenty-thousand-dollar painting by an artist I’m unfamiliar with, from a museum in…Italy.
My pulse slows. He was in Italy at the same time my parents were. Coincidence? I click on the attached image and my legs give out. I fall into the desk chair, looking directly into the tearful eyes of a lonely woman. I minimize the image, my pulse racing and thoughts taking shape in my mind.
Wait, why is there a column for yesterday? He stole a painting from the Phoenix museum? Why?
The door beeps and I leap back from the computer and onto the bed, tangling myself up in the comforter like I’ve just woken up.
I rub my eyes and look up at Caleb. “Oh hey.”
He raises a brow. “Did you see what you wanted?”
Jig's up.
“You weren’t gone that long.” I hop off the bed and go back to the computer. “I might have found a connection.”
“What’s that?” he asks, handing over a box of donuts like it’s nothing.
But it’s not nothing. I think he’s afraid to love, but he does a really good job at it. I take the box and pull out two donuts. A girl can never have too many.
“My parents.” I take a bite of the maple donut and moan with pleasure.
He frowns. “What do you mean?”
I use my donut to point at the date and item stolen from Milan. “That’s the day my parents died. In Italy.”
Caleb rubs his jaw. “You think Liam had something to do with that?”
“He stole the same painting from a museum in Italy that my parents bought and sent home.”
His brows furrow. “Okay…”
A thought occurs to me. “What did he take yesterday?”
“This hideous painting. It had a million colors and a tiny green face in the corner.”
A piece of my sprinkle donut gets lodged in my throat and I choke it down.
“Are you okay?”
“Show me,” I wheeze.
He relieves me of the killer donut like a good bodyguard and clicks on the image.
I choke again. This can’t be real.
“Amelia?” he asks, concern in his voice. “What’s going on?”
I’m still trying to put it together myself. “That’s my parents' painting.” I poke a finger at the screen. “My mom turned it around and painted something ridiculous on the other side so no one would steal the expensive painting.” I can’t believe my parents spent twenty thousand dollars on a painting. But that’s not what’s important right now.