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Savannah gave him a compassionate look. "Olivia died on vacation with her mom shortly after you graduated."
"Yes. And Arthur helped me get through it. And it wasn't the first time he did that. When I met him, I was still reeling from what had gone down with my dad. Arthur was like a second father to me. I owe him for that."
"Sounds like he wants to collect."
"He does want a favor. He told me that much. But he wouldn't say more. The last time I spoke to him was more than five years ago, right before I went to Quantico. We ran into each other at a restaurant, and that was a brief conversation. I have no idea what his life is about now, but he's in some kind of trouble. He said someone is watching him, another reason for the very public meeting."
"Makes sense. So, we'll help him, because he's important to you."
"Thanks." He liked how simple Savannah kept things. Loyalty and trust were what made them work so well together.
"It looks like the judge is headed somewhere," she murmured.
He nodded as Arthur slipped away from the group and down a hallway. "Maybe the restroom. I'll see if I can find him. I'd prefer to have our conversation sooner rather than later."
"Go. I'll wander around and see if I can learn something about art or maybe find an attractive, single, art collector."
He smiled, doubting she'd have any trouble doing that. He headed across the room but was almost immediately waylaid by his father's former assistant, Gretchen Vale.
"Flynn, is that you?" she asked, surprise in her eyes.
"Gretchen."
She gave him a confused look. "I can't believe you're here, at an art museum. I thought you had given up your love of art after your dad…"
"That was a long time ago. You look well. Are you still running the gallery in Laguna Beach?" After his father's departure, Gretchen had taken over his gallery, changing the name but keeping some of their customer base.
"Yes. I'm here with my husband, Stephen, although I don't know where he is at the moment. You remember Stephen."
"I do."
"How have you been, Flynn?"
"I'm good."
"What are you up to now?"
"I'd love to chat, but I have to meet someone. Excuse me."
"Of course. Maybe we can catch up later, Flynn. There are things we should talk about."
He couldn't imagine what those things could be. "That would be great," he lied. The last person he wanted to talk to was Gretchen. He didn't know what he really thought about her, but the one thing he did know was that he couldn't trust her.
Moving across the room, he turned down the hallway where he'd seen Arthur go. As he came around a corner, he ran smack into Arthur's stepdaughter, Callie Harper.
He caught her by the arm as she stumbled. "Sorry," he murmured. "I didn't see you."
"It's fine," she said quickly.
She glanced away, but not before he saw what looked like tears in her dark eyes.
His gut clenched at her beauty, at her inexplicable sorrow. Before he could ask her if she was all right, she slipped past him. He thought about following her, but he needed to focus on finding Arthur. He checked the nearby restroom, but it was empty. He wandered down the hall, scanning the two nearby exhibit rooms for any sign of Arthur, but he was not among those admiring the work of German sculptor, Heinrich Schmidt, or in the crowd viewing the erotic art of Sylvia Plum.
When he stepped into the corridor, the museum speaker announced that the exhibit would be opening shortly in the grand hall. He joined the throng of guests making their way back to the center of the building.
He scanned the hall for Arthur, but there was no sign of him. Nor did he see Juliette or Callie. The absence of all three was somewhat disturbing.
Savannah came up next to him. "Did you find Judge Corbyn?"