Page 39 of The Art of Vanishing

Claire

“Sir, I’ve got the janitorial staff for you,” the FBI agent who had brought us up here announced.

The man who was seemingly in charge of this operation stared at us. “Just these two?” he asked.

“It’s a small museum,” Jamie answered.

“That one,” the FBI agent said as he pointed at Linda, “does the ground floor and the other one”—he pointed at me—“does all this up here.” Linda was clearly offended by being called “that one,” and I didn’t blame her.

I tried to make eye contact with her, to establish some form of camaraderie, but she refused to look at me.

I could tell she was shaken from the night’s events.

Then again, so was I. I’d been acting weird even before the alarms went off.

Always with the worst timing, Jeremy had called twice as I was on my way to work.

I sent both calls to voicemail. Once I was parked, I deleted both of his messages without listening and fired off a quick text telling him if he wasn’t going to show up for Luna when he promised, he wouldn’t get a second chance.

I told him to never call us again. I wasn’t sure he was going to listen to that, but it had shut him up at least for the time being.

I looked down at the skin around my nails.

It had reached a startling state of redness; I had shredded my cuticles, and I couldn’t stop myself from picking them raw.

I had to stop. I was going to make myself look guilty.

And I wasn’t guilty, at least not of what they might have thought.

Unless they knew what I’d really done. They’d been up here for a really long time.

Was it possible they already knew? Had they seen something on the camera footage?

I scanned the room for the cameras I knew were located in the corners of the ceiling.

I didn’t think they could see where I had climbed out of the painting, but I couldn’t be sure.

The cameras must have caught me leaving the gallery afterward.

I needed to come up with a good explanation, I thought as I chewed my nails again.

“Hi,” the lead investigator said, “I’m Mark Smith. I work for the FBI in the art theft department.”

Linda thrust her right hand at Mark. “I’m Linda, head of the janitorial staff.” She shook his hand like she was closing a business deal.

“Claire,” I said quietly, afraid to extend my hand for fear of him seeing my nails.

“I’m sure this has been an overwhelming, even scary, evening for both of you.

I’m going to want to talk to each of you individually.

Are you okay to wait around for a bit more?

” He phrased it as a question, but I couldn’t imagine we had a choice.

Any attempt to leave right now would certainly not be welcome, though I had considered faking some emergency. But, of course, this was the emergency.

The flurry of commotion in the gallery was simmering down.

The crime scene photographers were reviewing their shots and the plastic bags of evidence were sealed and stored in large black bins, their latches clicking into place.

The teams shuffled off, heading back to what I assumed was some kind of office to review the facts of the case or the security camera footage.

I recognized that everything I thought I knew about nights like these came from TV dramas.

Already, I could tell it was much quieter, less frantic than Hollywood made it out to be.

Soon, the room felt practically empty again, just us, Mark, Jamie, and a few others.

“Claire, I’d like to start with you. Linda, why don’t you go back to the break room with Leon?

You’ll be more comfortable there.” Leon led Linda from the gallery, Jamie and the others trailing behind them.

I wondered if Mark thought we were alone, when I knew we were far from it in here.

It made me nervous, knowing Jean would hear all of this.

I was too afraid to look at him, worried Mark might be able to see something on my face that he would read as guilt.

“Do you mind if I record our conversation?” Mark asked as he pulled a small tape recorder from his pocket.

Once again, it was a question that didn’t really feel like a question.

I nodded, wanting to seem accommodating.

Hopefully, a few more hours would pass and I’d be out of there, free to go home, free to hug my little girl and never let her go.

I had to get out of there, for Luna. “It’s just for my own memory,” he explained.

“And I want to remind you that at any time, you can say stop and we’ll stop, and start again when you have a lawyer or whatever you need. ”

“I don’t have anything to hide,” I said, hoping he couldn’t hear the lie in my voice.

“Okay,” Mark said. “What happened here tonight?”

“I don’t fully know,” I admitted. That was true. I’d witnessed as much as anyone could, and even I didn’t know who those thieves were and what they wanted with the journal.

“Tell me anything you saw,” he said. “Please.”

“Well, I was cleaning the room as normal,” I said.

Thank god I wasn’t hooked up to some kind of lie detector.

Did they even use those things in real life or was that just in the movies?

I hoped I wouldn’t have to find out. “And I heard some people coming, voices I didn’t recognize.

I just had this moment of, like, panic. I could just feel something was wrong. So I hid.”

“Where did you hide?” he asked.

“I hid behind the closest thing I could find.” I pointed to the journal plinth.

I’d thought it over while we’d been waiting, what I would say in this moment.

I thought this was the only thing that might be believable whenever they watched the security footage.

Otherwise, how else would I explain where I’d popped up?

But as soon as I’d said it, I realized it didn’t make sense.

Wouldn’t I have set the alarm off? It was too late, I’d committed.

Maybe it would be a blurry timeline, confusing enough for them to not know which one of us set off the alarm. I forged ahead.

“All of a sudden, I heard them on the other side of the stand, arguing. I heard them run out and I crept around. I could see the journal was gone and, I don’t know why, my first instinct was to run after them.

Like my brain couldn’t believe what my eyes were staring at. But sure enough, the journal was gone.”

“Did you ever see either of the thieves?”

“No.” I shook my head, even though I had stared right at them through the frame with Jean. It didn’t make any difference. I still had no clue who they were.

“What happened then?” he asked.

“The alarm was still ringing like crazy. I could hear them running out of the museum, and figured I had to go find Linda or Tony or one of the other guards, and that the police would be here soon.”

“And you took your cleaning cart with you?”

“Honestly, it was habit. That’s what I always do.”

“What did you find when you got downstairs?”

I shuddered at the memory. “Linda was gagged and tied to a bench. I guess she hadn’t had time to hide.

I helped her get free and then we ran to find Tony.

And Tony was…he was unconscious next to the back entrance we all use.

It was awful. I thought he was dead.” I felt tears pricking at the corners of my eyes.

“He’s going to be fine,” Mark told me. “The thieves didn’t do any permanent damage.”

“They’re good people,” I said, “Linda and Tony and everyone who works here. They did right by us as soon as the lockdown ended.”

“How long have you been working for the foundation?”

“Almost a year now,” I told him. “Minus those four months we were closed.”

“Did you get another job during that time?” he asked. I didn’t see what that had to do with anything that happened here tonight.

“No,” I said, “I was at home with my family.”

“And who does that family consist of?”

“My grandmother. And my daughter, Luna. She’s four.”

“That’s it?”

“Her father walked out on us.”

I couldn’t help it; I looked at Jean. All these months and all of a sudden the truth was out in the open, just like that.

He was staring right at me, still as a statue, just as he was all day long.

I studied him for any sign of a reaction, but he gave me nothing.

Marguerite, on the other hand, let her jaw drop.

It was so subtle and she caught herself almost immediately, but I saw it.

“He’s not in the picture anymore,” I repeated. I didn’t want any implication that Jeremy was anywhere near this place.

Mark hummed. “Thank you, Claire,” he said as he stood up and offered his hand to shake. This time, I took it. “I’m sure we’ll have more questions.”

“Well, you know where to find me, it appears.”

“Yes,” Mark confirmed. “We have your contact information. But if there’s anything else we should know about reaching you, be sure to let us know. If you don’t pick up when we call, things get more complicated on my end.”

“I’ll be there,” I promised. For the first time, I was beginning to let myself believe I was going to get to go home. The FBI hadn’t figured it all out. I held it together just a little bit longer. “Am I good to go home now?” I asked.

“I don’t think they’ve lifted the hold on the museum yet, so I think you’ll need to sit tight while we talk to Linda.

” So close and yet so far. “We’re grateful for your patience,” Mark said as he gestured to the doorway that led back to the museum.

“I’ll walk you back; I’ve got to go get your co-worker. ”

As much as I wanted to get out of there in one piece, I didn’t want to leave Jean. A part of me considered running toward his frame, jumping in before anyone could stop me, and curling up in his arms.

Instead, I followed Mark silently out of the room. He traded me for Linda and left me in our locker room with Leon. A few minutes later, Leon’s cellphone rang and he looked up at me.

“You can take it,” I said. “I’m just going to change out of my uniform, if that’s okay. Mark said we’d get to leave soon.” Leon nodded and stepped out to take the call.

I jumped into action, grateful I’d brought an oversized sweatshirt to wear home that night.

I reached into my trash can and grabbed the bundle of rags, pulling the journal out from the bundle I’d hidden it in and stuffing it into my waistband.

It was risky, but I couldn’t see any other way of getting it out of there.

When Leon reentered the room, I was dressed in my street clothes and emptying my trash can into the larger bin. Leon ignored me and went back to scrolling on his phone. Soon enough, Linda was returned to us, still looking incredibly shaken.

“Hey,” I said, touching her arm. “You okay?” It was hard to do this with masks on.

I could only see her eyes. She didn’t say anything, just pulled her arm away from me.

Leon waited for her to get changed and then walked us through the caution tape to our cars.

I nearly collapsed with fear as we walked out through the metal detectors, but, of course, the journal did not set anything off.

Soon enough, I was back in my car, heading home. I couldn’t believe what I had done, but I had to find out how her story ended.