Page 88 of Disarming Caine

Samantha shook her head. “Those are his words. We had a very personable consult with her.”

I asked, “Did he say anything else? About the Constable?”

Her hands tightened their grip on each other. “He said someone was trying to recruit you.”

“Scusi? Recruit me for what? For their company?” That made no… Another of Cristian’s warnings echoed in my brain. Someone was moving in on Zio Giovanni’s business, and Cristian said they might approach me for help.

“I don’t know. But you won’t believe the craziest part.”

Janelle said, “I’m all ears.”

“The passenger.” Samantha straightened, brow furrowing. “It was Cam-ron Parker.”

“The copyist who made the Chagall?” What was going on? Was there a link between the two men?

“Parker Johnson’s his dad. He uses his father’s name as his artist's pseudonym.”

Janelle looked from Samantha to me, and back again. “What am I missing here?”

Samantha took in a rough breath, and I squeezed her shoulder. Her eyes remained locked with mine. Something was going through her brain. Something important. The blinking started, her eyes narrowing and flicking back and forth.

“What’s your theory?” asked Janelle.

Samantha dragged a hand down her face, exhaling sharply. Her lips tightened, and she stared at me for a long moment, as though debating. One slow blink, signaling a decision, and she was on her feet. “We’ve got four shootings in Brenton in the last week. I expect that’s a record around here.”

Janelle nodded as Samantha rounded my desk and retrieved a blank sheet of paper and a pen.

She wrote the numbers one through four, adding words connected with lines. “NIBIN hasn’t provided us with any useful results from their analysis of the bullets yet. However, your team identified that shootings one and three were the same gun and my review says the same about shootings one and two.”

“If the evidence from your hotel shooting is really lost, you’ll need to give me what you found there,” Janelle added.

“Sure. But for now, let’s say the shootings at Mason’s, my place, and the gym—” She paused and looked at me.

No words passed between us, but her request was clear. As she continued, I pulled out my phone and texted Lucy that we’d been distracted, everything was alright, and we’d be back soon.

“—were all committed with the same gun. All three of us, Cam-ron, Lucy, and me, were involved in finding out what Olivia did. She thought she’d gotten away with a million-dollar crime. My theory was that she’s out for revenge.”

Samantha added Olivia and David to the diagram. “Until today, that theory makes sense. Lucy and I met with them, and they know Cam-ron provided the invoice we used to prove intent to defraud.”

“I proved the painting was a forgery,” I said. “So they come here. Everything still makes sense, except that it was Parker, not David or Olivia?”

“It doesn’t, though.” Samantha circled her hand to indicate the three of us. “Weknow you worked on the painting. I mentioned at the press conference that Ferraro’s did the work, but I didn’t use your name.”

I took the pen and wrotePress conferenceunder number four. “But this makes sense. He came here and shot up the studio.”

“But this wasn’t about Ferraro’s as a company. He said…” Samantha bit down on her bottom lip, barely able to look at me. “Antonio was the target. So the theory still ends today.”

“Alright.” I maintained my calm, thinking to infuse her with it, and stood next to Janelle. “You said Cam-ron was in the car? If he were party to this, why would he or his father shoot up his painting?”

“Parker said he wanted ‘the bitch’ to lie low and that I sicced the police on him. That has to mean the shooting at Mason’s.” She took the pen back and tapped it on the paper a few times. “Although Cam-ron fought with Parker after the first few shots today, so maybe he was in the car for some other reason? Didn’t know what was going to happen?”

“Back up.” Janelle leaned her hands on the desk, twisting the sheet of paper to face us. “You saw the suspect in the car and chased him down, so we’re certain the driver of that car is responsible for this shooting. That’s the only thing we know for sure.”

“True.” Samantha deflated. “But I’m pretty sure he’s the shooter from Tuesday night, too. He told me—” Samantha wroteParkerunder headings four and two. “—he should have killed me when he had the chance.”

My stomach fell. It hadn’t been an accident or a one-off. He tried to take her. I placed my hand on top of the one she balanced on, leaning over the table.

I love you, bella. You’re safe.