Page 83

"You're a suspect, Mom. You were seen on a security camera at the museum having a fight with Arthur fifteen minutes before he was killed, and you were not in the hall when he fell over the railing."
Her mother's eyes widened with each word. "And you think I killed him?"
"I don't, but others are suspicious. The FBI wants to talk to you so they can eliminate you as a suspect."
"Why would I kill the man I love?" she asked in bewilderment.
"They don't know how much you loved him. All they saw was a fight."
"I was just annoyed that he wanted to go back to Palm Springs again. I had this terrible feeling he was using that place to have an affair, because he always wanted to go when I couldn't. I accused him of that, and he said I was crazy. I hate that word. So I left and went to the restroom. I needed a minute."
"I understand. You should say that. I'm just telling you what's coming your way so that you can be prepared."
"I didn't do it, Callie."
She really wanted to believe her mom.
"Do you believe me?" her mother asked. "Please tell me you do."
"I do," she said, desperately hoping she wasn't wrong. "But we still need to prove it."
"How are we going to do that?"
"I'll find a way."
Relief filled her mom's eyes. "You always make me feel better, Callie. I guess it's just the two of us now. Like the old days."
She really hoped it wouldn't be like the old days, but she just smiled and sat down on the edge of the bed. "Do you want me to do your hair and makeup?"
A smile spread across her mom's face. "You know me so well."
She opened her purse and pulled out her makeup bag. "Then let's get started."
* * *
Flynn stood at the end of the conference table, a large board behind him displaying the photos of potential suspects. He'd just finished a long briefing at his office with Detectives Gage and Palmer from the LAPD, Damon and two other agents from the LA Field Office, and his team: Savannah, Lucas, Wyatt, and Bree. They'd compared notes, gone over witness statements, and discussed every possible angle and connection currently being explored.
They'd ended just after one, everyone going off to tackle their particular assignment.
The LAPD would continue to focus on Judge Corbyn's work circle: attorneys, clerks, court cases, convictions—anything that would provide a motive for murder. They were also now investigating the homicide at the Wickham hotel. Damon's team was conducting additional, more in-depth interviews with Arthur's neighbors, associates, people who worked at his house, the staff members at his foundation, anyone who had any kind of relationship with the judge. Wyatt and Bree were working with agents from Art Crime to trace the stolen paintings found in Arthur's home, and Lucas was focused on finding the cyber trail. Which left the key art players to Savannah and himself.
As the group dispersed, he glanced back at the board, at the faces on the top of their suspect list: Layana Vazquez, Arthur's alleged mistress and someone he'd left money to in his trust. Gretchen Vale, who had possibly brokered the stolen art purchase, and her husband Stephen. He didn't have Gerard Bissette on the list, although he was still curious about what had transpired between Gerard and Stephen and why they'd had an intense discussion in a car down the street from the gallery. He'd put Marcus Vitelli on the list, because he'd exchanged numerous calls with Arthur and had been under pressure from Arthur to finish a painting or lose a purchase. Because Marcus was on the list, he'd also added Imogene Rocca, the other young artist Arthur had been interested in.
Juliette was next. He hadn't wanted to put her there, but he'd had no choice. They'd gone over the video of her fight with Arthur in the museum again and had also caught her on a security camera heading toward a stairwell moments before the cameras went out. Hopefully, Callie would get some better information from her mother today.
There was one suspect not on the board, someone he'd left off while the LAPD was in the room.
Now, he reached into a file folder on the table and pulled out his father's photo from fifteen years ago, the one the FBI had had on file ever since he disappeared. He tacked it to the board and stared long and hard at his dad's face, at the blue eyes so similar to his own. A range of extreme emotions ran through him. He honestly didn't know what to think.
"I was wondering if you were going to put him on the list," Damon said, joining him by the board. "That's your father, isn't it? He looks like you, especially in the eyes. You don't really think he's involved, do you?"
"His name has come up several times, but I didn't want to distract the police detectives with his name."
"Understood. Maybe his name has come up because people are talking to you—his son. They might want to rattle you, get you thinking about someone else other than themselves."
"That might be true, but I can't deny that there's a possibility he's involved. He's an art thief. He lives in the shadows, but he has to be funding his survival in some way. Finding him, however, has been impossible to date. He has managed to hide himself away for a very long time."
"You sure you don’t want to step back from this, Flynn?"