Page 15

CHAPTER 15

“The van? With Mrs. Arundel’s art?” Maarja’s mind clicked away from Dante, the office, the hovering lure of security, and snapped into her guard mode. Ignoring Nate’s menacing advance, she jumped off the chair and hurried to Saint Rees. “You’ve heard nothing from Alex? From Serene?”

With her peripheral vision, she saw Dante wave Nate to a halt.

“No communication, but the van has been found along 303 Bartlett Springs Road.” Saint Rees took her hands. “Blood everywhere, no Alex, no Serene, no art—”

“Whose blood?” Maarja’s voice rose. “Is it Alex’s?”

Saint Rees nodded. “Alex’s.”

“What about Serene?”

“None of her blood.”

“Unlikely,” Maarja said crisply.

Serene. Maarja had worked with her for over a year and still didn’t know her at all. Beneath that meditative facade, there could be depths of ruthlessness and cruelty. Yes. She could take a commission to steal the finest art and hurt the finest person, plan and execute it flawlessly, and never flinch.

“It looks as if she was waiting for just such a circumstance as this tragedy.” For the first time, Saint Rees acknowledged Dante with a nod. “Mr. Arundel, my teams are scouring the area. We’ve got copters in the air, men on the ground. Experts and trackers. The art will be found.” His eyes, big and richly lashed, shifted to Maarja. “Alex is our first priority.”

Maarja’s gaze clung to his. “Alex…” Her sister of the heart. They’d spent so many hours of their lives together, being dysfunctional teens (were there any other kind?) and brave adults as they ventured into the world and left their torn pasts behind. Then logic took over from emotion. “Serene could be that kind of opportunist, I agree, but it’s more likely she’s been hired by the bastards who killed Mrs. Arundel. The coincidence is too unlikely.” She turned to Dante, expecting agreement and concern.

Instead he stood, arms loose, fingers flexed, his face blank, cool, unreadable.

Yet she could read it; the lover who talked of a fateful union had vanished, leaving Dante Arundel of the vengeful and aristocratic Arundels. His lips barely moved as he spoke. “The unbelievable coincidence is that you , Maarja, packed la Bouteille de Flamme and now it has been stolen.”

She felt like she’d been slapped by a lover. By her first lover, her only lover. Her knee-jerk reaction was to punch back. “And I gave up my virginity to distract you. Right. Logical. How could I ever have been such a dolt as to imagine that I could fool you, the magnificent Dante Arundel?” By the time she finished, she was on tiptoe, in his face and shouting.

“Maarja. My God!” Saint Rees grabbed her elbow and pulled her back, and put her behind him. “Mr. Arundel, I know you’re upset, and rightfully so, and I apologize for the loss of your belongings. They will be retrieved. But Maarja is of sterling character, has been in my employ longer than any of my movers, and if she were going to be involved in a theft, there have been other better opportunities. I beg you, believe me. Please don’t hurt her.”

She realized he was afraid Dante would put out a hit on her. If she were intelligent, she’d be afraid, too. She would be, if she wasn’t so angry. “Asshole,” she muttered.

“Miss Daire does not need to worry about any life--threatening accidents that originate from me.” Each word had been chipped from Arundel ice. “However, we have discussed she might be in danger from other quarters. She should take care what she says, and to whom.”

“She will be,” Maarja snapped. “I need a phone. I’ve got to call our mother.”

Dante walked to his desk, picked up an iPhone, stepped around Saint Rees, and handed it to her. “It’s new. It’s yours. It’s set to your number, opens with your fingerprint, and includes your apps.”

She looked him right in those brown eyes, and noted the heated gold still moved beneath the surface. She had somehow equated that to passion…for her. Now she knew it meant nothing, it was simply who he was. In a voice kept carefully neutral, she said, “Thank you. Is it set so you can track me when I carry it?”

“What kind of a fool do you think I am? Of course it is.”

“I can always change phones.”

He nodded. “You can.”

She heard what he didn’t say; changing phones would make no difference. He would always know where she was.

Saint Rees pulled a large white handkerchief from his pocket, wiped the sweat off his long forehead, and spoke to Dante. “As I said, we’re searching by every means possible to find the thieves and your art. This has only happened one other time; within twenty-four hours we recovered everything intact.”

Maarja swiped the phone open. The home screen looked exactly like her old phone, and she didn’t waste time wondering how he’d managed that. Instead she took a breath and texted Octavia. Mom, phone ASAP .

It wouldn’t do Maarja any good to call now; every week at this time Octavia held meetings for the Oakland Golden Neighborhood Community Festival in person and on camera. She expected everyone to attend and give it their whole attention, and she by God followed her own rules.

Saint Rees rumbled a distraction toward Dante. “Because of the uniqueness of your possessions, the thieves will be hard-pressed to sell them without attracting notice. I cultivate my channels of communication most assiduously—”

That was an understatement. The man knew everybody, had contacts everywhere, and today and every day, that counted for a lot.

“—and I will receive notice when the objects surface. If you hear anything, please let me know right away.”

Maarja’s phone rang, and as soon as she answered, Octavia’s frantic voice sounded in her ear. “What’s wrong with Alex? Ever since last night, I’ve been thinking about her, so I called her, and called her, and called her… She’s not answering!”

Maarja realized she didn’t even know what to say. She had to swallow around a sudden lump of tears before blurting, “The van was stolen. Alex’s missing. The art’s missing. There’s blood…” She found herself squatting on her heels, resting her elbows on her knees and holding the phone in both hands. “Mama, do you think she’s dead?”

“No, honey. No, I don’t think that. I can’t. Somewhere she’s hanging on by a thread. Saint Rees is searching for her?”

Maarja rocked back and forth. She nodded, then cleared her throat. “Yes, on ground and in air.” No sobs, but she was dripping tears off her chin.

Dante’s hands lifted her by her elbows while someone slid a chair under her behind. He pressed her down into the seat, then gestured her attention toward Saint Rees, who was on his phone talking and barking instructions. Mid-sentence, he looked at Maarja. “We’ve found Alex. She’s alive, critical condition, received treatment at the Colusa Medical Center. They’re medevacing her to UC Davis Sacramento.”

“Did you hear that, Mom?”

“All I heard was alive .” Octavia’s voice grew strong and hopeful.

Maarja gave a wobbly laugh. “Yes. But critical condition. We’ll come and get you, take you to her.”

“I’ll get myself ready.” Octavia hung up before she finished the last word.

Maarja shook away Dante’s grip and rose to join Saint Rees as he strode toward the door. “Where was she?”

“Colusa Wildlife Refuge on CA-20. Those bastards beat her and flung her out into the marsh, figured she’d drown or worse. She crawled back to the road. A farmer spotted her, thank God, because the guy had experience with injured animals and after he called 9-1-1, he worked on her. Medical personnel said he saved her life, but, Maarja—” Saint Rees stopped walking “—it’s not good. She might not make it, and if she does, she might never recover from her injuries.”

She nodded, dripping tears again, but without the sobs because she couldn’t spare the energy. “I’ll see if Mom can wrangle one of our neighbors to meet me just across the bridge, and we’ll drive in from there.”

“We’ll pick her up in the helicopter.” Dante’s words stopped them in their tracks.

Maarja didn’t even turn back. “No. I—”

“You don’t like me. I know.” Dante’s voice dripped ice. “You don’t want any favors. But if there’s a chance Alex won’t survive, I can get your mother to Alex’s side in time.”