�Right on time,� Herb Fisher said.

One of the Woodman & Weld associates carried an ice bucket with a bottle of Dom P�rignon into Herb�s office, followed by another associate holding four champagne flutes.

�I take it you were confident about the outcome,� Stone Barrington said. He was a partner at the law firm, and was standing with Herb in front of Herb�s desk.

�Weren�t you?�

�You�ve haven�t failed me yet.�

That afternoon, they�d won a suit for a client to the tune of thirty-two million dollars. Stone had asked Herb to handle the trial and his friend had done a masterful job.

After toasts were made and congratulations shared, the two associates returned to their desks, leaving Stone and Herb alone.

�Did you notice the way Winston Petry looked at you after the verdict?� Herb asked.

�It was hard to miss.�

�For a second there, I thought he was going to charge across the courtroom and attack you.�

�I wouldn�t have been surprised. Petry and I have a history.�

�You never mentioned that before.�

�It wasn�t relevant to the case.�

�From his reaction, I�d say it was relevant to him.�

Stone shrugged. �That�s his problem, not ours.�

�Can you tell me now?�

�Back when I was of counsel to Woodman & Weld, one of the firm�s clients was sued by Petry for breach of contract. I turned up evidence that he�d falsified his financials to get our client�s business, and thus proved the contract had been legally terminated.�

�That�s a long time to hold a grudge for losing one contract.�

With a grin, Stone said, �Because of what I turned up, financial regulators swooped in. My understanding is that Petry barely escaped going to jail and had to close his business. It took him several years to rebound and build up his new company.�

�Now I get it, though it doesn�t seem to have hurt him too much. He�s worth a few hundred million.�

�Slippery as an eel, as they say.�

�He�s going to appeal,� Herb said.

�And he�ll fail again. Your case is airtight.�

Carly Riggs poked her head into the office. �Hello, you two. I heard the good news.�

Carly was a fast-rising star at Woodman & Weld. She and Stone had had a passionate but short-lived relationship, ended by mutual consent, as working together and playing together was not a good idea, especially for a promising lawyer just starting her career.

�Herb did the heavy lifting,� Stone said.

�Congratulations.�

�Care to join us for a glass of champagne?� Herb asked.

�Can�t. I�m heading out to an off-site meeting.�

�Don�t forget dinner at P. J. Clarke�s tonight, seven-thirty,� Stone said.

Carly grimaced. �Better make it eight-thirty.�

�That�s going to be one long meeting.�

�Two meetings, back-to-back. Invite Dino. He can keep you company until I arrive. See you later.� She hurried off.

�Why do I have the feeling she�s going to be running this place someday?� Herb asked.

�By someday, I assume you mean next week.�

�I wouldn�t be surprised.�

They clinked glasses.

Benji Madigan eyed the Zurn estate through his binoculars. Decorative exterior lights spread throughout the property, illuminating pathways and entrances, while interior lights glowed from several of the mansion�s windows.

On his right, Devin Barnes scanned the property while Lenny �Sticks� Martin, settled on the other side of him, picked at his teeth with the sharpened end of a match.

�Looks the same to me,� Benji said. This was their fourth night in a row checking the place out. Like the other nights they�d cased the place, there was no sign of security guards.

Devin lowered his binoculars and nodded. �Good to go as far as I�m concerned.�

The mansion was located outside Aspen, Colorado, and was the vacation home of financier Gordon Zurn and his family. The Zurns used it mainly for winter ski trips and the occasional summer getaway, usually around the Fourth of July. The latter had been more than a month ago, and from the info Benji had obtained from a reliable source, they weren�t expected back for months.

When the family wasn�t in residence, the lodge was occupied by a middle-aged married couple who acted as the caretakers.

As for security, the property was woefully underprotected. While their alarm system was top-notch, given what was inside the house, Zurn really should have sprung for several full-time guards.

Sometimes rich people could be so stupid about what they did and didn�t spend their money on.

Benji glanced at the two other members of his crew. �Let�s do this.�

They returned to their Chevy Malibu. They�d stolen it in Denver and covered the outside in a preprinted vinyl wrap that made it look like it belonged to the local sheriff�s department. They�d even mounted an emergency light bar on the roof. To complete the charade, they wore uniforms similar to those worn by actual local sheriff�s deputies.

�Okay, Sticks, you�re up,� Benji said.

Grinning like a child on Christmas morning, Sticks put his phone on speaker and made a call. When it connected, three high-pitched tones sounded over the speaker. He tapped in a four-digit code, then the triple tone played again, triggering his devices to go off, and the line cut out.

Sticks looked up. �Done.�

Devin fired up a remote control and flew their drone high into the sky. Benji and Sticks leaned in on either side of him, so they both could see the drone�s camera feed on the screen.

The craft was high enough for the camera to take in the entirety of the Zurns� property and much of the dark slope behind it. Everyone�s attention was on the latter.

After several seconds, Devin voiced what Benji was thinking, �They�re not working.�

�Relax,� Sticks said. �Just needs a little time.�

�It�s usually faster than this.�

�You saying I don�t know what I�m doing?�

�Relax,� Benji said. �That�s not what he meant.�

The last thing he wanted was to upset Sticks. The man was not right in the head even on the best of days.

Before anyone could say anything else, the yellow light of a flame flickered to life on the hillside. A beat later, two more appeared several feet away. Sticks�s igniters had indeed worked.

�See,� Sticks said. �What did I tell you?�

�Sorry,� Devin muttered.

Sticks grunted but let it go.

They watched the fire spread through the underbrush. When it began climbing up a few trees, Benji said, �All right, that looks good enough. Let�s get moving.�

They hopped into their faux sheriff�s car, with Benji behind the wheel. He waited until they reached the gate across the Zurns� driveway before turning on the emergency lights and bathing the area in flickering red and blue light. Leaning out the window, Benji pressed the button on the intercom box over and over until the speaker finally crackled to life.

�Can I help you?� The man sounded sleepy yet surprisingly calm for someone woken in the middle of the night.

�Pitkin County Sheriff�s Department,� Benji said, sounding urgent. �There�s a wildfire nearby. We need you to open the gate for emergency services, then you need to evacuate immediately.�

�Fire? How close?�

�Too close to get into a conversation about it. Please open the gate, and then get everyone out of the house.�

�Oh, of course, of course.�

The gate swung open and Sticks laughed in delight.

�Quiet,� Benji hissed, hoping the man on the intercom hadn�t heard the outburst.

As soon as the gate was opened wide enough, Benji sped to the house.

�Radios on,� he said.

He activated the one in his ear, then jumped out and ran to the front door.

It only took a few knocks with his fist before it flew open. Both caretakers were there, eyes wide and hair disheveled. The woman was loaded with several shopping bags stuffed with who knew what, while the man carried a soft leather briefcase and a half-zipped duffel bag.

Benji put an arm across the door like he was holding it open for them and motioned for them to move. �Get in your car and head into town. Go, go!�

They rushed outside, then stumbled to a stop when they caught sight of the blaze. It had grown to cover a large portion of the slope at the back of the property.

The wife grabbed her husband�s arm. �Come on. We need to go!�

He blinked, then nodded. They raced toward the garage and, a few moments later, sped away in a Range Rover.

Once they were out of sight, Benji spoke into his radio, �Sticks, you know what to do. Devin, with me.�

He and Devin hurried through the open door and into a large living room. Benji scanned the walls for their target, but it wasn�t there.

�I�ll take the first floor,� he said, then nodded toward the stairs. �You take the second.�

Devin nodded and took off.

Benji ran into the dining room and searched the walls. No dice. He made a quick pass through the kitchen, doubtful it would be there, but checking just in case. It wasn�t.

As he rushed to the hallway that led to the other side of the house, he clicked on his mic. �Devin, anything?�

�Not yet.�

�Sticks, how�s it going?� He was outside, placing the devices that would set the house�s exterior on fire.

�I�m busy. Don�t bother me.�

If Sticks wasn�t so damn good at setting fires, Benji would have cut him from his crew a long time ago. �We�ve talked about this. Answer the question.�

Sticks huffed, then said, �Everything�s fine. Okay?�

�That�s all I wanted to know.�

The first room Benji reached was a bedroom. On its walls were several expensive-looking illustrations, but none was the piece he wanted.

The damn thing wasn�t in the next bedroom, either.

Frustrated, he moved to the third room and shoved the door open so hard it bounced against the wall and closed again. Swearing under his breath, he opened it with a little less force and moved inside.

Instead of a bedroom, he found himself in a well-appointed home office. And there it was, the painting he was hunting, hanging on the wall behind the desk. The artist was Andrew something. Wyatt? Wayland?

Wyeth. That was it.

He compared it to a photo he had of it on his phone so that there was no mistake, then grinned.

�Found it,� he said. �First floor. Office.�

�On my way,� Devin said.

Benji lifted the painting off the wall and set it on the floor, picture side down. A quick examination revealed how the frame was attached.

�Devin, I need the pliers!�

Feet pounded down the hallway. �Where are you?� Devin called.

�In here.�

Devin rushed in huffing and puffing and set the small canvas bag that held their tools next to Benji. Benji set to work and soon removed the brackets holding the picture to the frame.

�Sticks, if you�re done out there, we need you here now.�

�Two minutes,� Sticks said.

Benji lifted the painting out of the frame and placed it against the wall, out of the way. He then leaned the frame against the desk and held out a hand.

�Ashes.�

Devin handed Benji a Ziploc bag filled with the ashes of a similarly sized canvas that had been created during the same era as the painting.

Benji spilled the contents on the floor, directly below where the painting had hung. He then moved the frame to the same area and laid it on the floor. The empty Ziploc went back into the duffel.

�Sticks, where are you?�

�Chill out. I�ll be right there.�

�How�s the fire?�

�Gorgeous.�

�I meant, how close is it to the house?�

�We have maybe five minutes.�

Devin shot a wide-eyed look at Benji. Benji maintained his neutral expression, but he shared Devin�s surprise. Five minutes away was cutting it a lot closer than they usually did.

By the time Sticks arrived, Benji was standing at the doorway, holding the painting. �Do what you need to do, and let�s get out of here.�

Sticks stepped over to the window and fingered the curtains. �These�ll do.�

Using a long-necked, barbecue lighter, he first set the empty picture frame ablaze, moved to the curtains next, then made his way around the room, lighting up whatever else would burn.

When he reached the door, he smiled at his creation. �So pretty.�

�Back to the car,� Benji said.

They hurried outside and stowed the painting inside the protective box in the trunk.

Once they were all in the car and the engine was running, Benji said to Sticks, �Set the rest off.� Then he put the car in drive and whipped around toward the gate.

Using the same phone-call method as earlier, Sticks set off the additional four igniters that he�d placed strategically around the house and garage while Benji and Devin had been searching for the painting.

If the brushfire that now dominated the slope didn�t reach the mansion, the house would still burn down. And everyone would believe that the Andrew Wyeth painting had been lost in the fire.

The perfect crime.

The next morning, Stone�s phone woke him from a deep sleep. He groaned and blindly grabbed for it.

�Hello,� he croaked.

�So, you are still alive,� his secretary, Joan, said.

He blinked, then sat up, and immediately regretted it. His head throbbed from one too many Knob Creeks the night before.

�Dino called and said you might need a little help getting started today,� Joan said. �Don�t worry. I shifted your schedule around. You have nothing pressing until this afternoon.�

�Thank God for small favors.�

�Small? Do you think I just snapped my fingers and your schedule rearranged itself?�

�Forgive me. For large favors.�

�That�s more like it. I hear Carly has flown the coop.�

�Dino has a big mouth.�

�That was from Fred. You told him on the ride home last night.�

Flashes of the previous evening played in his head, including snippets of a diatribe about how Carly was making the biggest mistake in her life.

�Then Fred has the big mouth.�

�You told him to tell me.�

Stone didn�t recall that, but if Fred said it happened, then it had to be true.

�Shall I have Helene send up your breakfast?�

�Just toast and coffee.�

�Poor baby,� she said and hung up.

Stone dragged himself into the bathroom, and after downing a couple of aspirin, took a hot shower. By the time he reentered his bedroom, he was feeling much better.

His light breakfast was waiting in the dumbwaiter. He ate a single piece of toast and drank a full cup of coffee before making his way to his office downstairs.

�You don�t look nearly as bad as I thought you would,� Joan said when he arrived.

�Your compliments need some work.�

�That wasn�t a compliment. It was an observation.�

�Would it be too much to ask for some coffee?�

�I thought you already had one.�

�More coffee.�

�I�ll bring it right in.�

Stone spent the next few hours working through several e-mails and reviewing a contract for a client.

It was closing in on one in the afternoon when Joan buzzed him. �Herb Fisher on line one.�

Stone picked up the phone. �Hello, Herb. What can I do for you?�

�Are you free today at four?�

�Let me check.� Stone placed a hand over the phone and called out to Joan, �What�s my afternoon look like?�

She appeared in his doorway. �Only a conference call with Steele Insurance in thirty minutes. I moved everything else to later in the week.�

To Herb, Stone said, �I�m free. What�s up?�

�Arrington Hotel business. I need to meet with you and Mike Freeman about the Phoenix property.�

The property was the proposed location for a new Arrington Resort. Stone, his son, Peter, and Strategic Services, which Mike Freeman ran, controlled the majority of stock in Arrington�s U.S. operations.

�I�ll be there,� Stone said. �But I�m not sure about Mike�s schedule.�

�I�ve already talked to him. He�s free.�

�I�ll see you at four.�

Petry stewed in the back seat of his Mercedes as he was driven to his apartment.

How dare Barrington humiliate him like that and make Petry lose his cool. And that Fred guy? He was lucky Petry had been focused on his boss. No way the tiny man would have gotten the drop on him otherwise.

Admittedly, it was probably a good thing the pip-squeak had stopped him from throwing the punch. If any of the federal investigators who�d taken Petry�s first business down caught wind of yesterday�s trial�s outcome, they�d likely be all over him again, thinking he was up to his old tricks. Earning an assault charge would only make that outcome more likely.

Petry growled in frustration, startling his driver. �You all right, Mr. Petry?�

�Just drive,� Petry said, then punched the button that raised the divider between them.

�Yes, sir. Sorry�� The driver�s voice was cut off as the barrier closed.

Petry stared out the window, seeing nothing through his rage.

It was only Wednesday, and this was already the second worst week of his career. And wouldn�t you know, both this and the first time had been caused by the same son of a bitch: Stone Barrington.

There was no way he would let the lawyer get a chance to do it a third time. There had to be a way to make Barrington suffer for his offenses without it being traced back to Petry. And the sooner that could happen, the better.

He pulled out his cell phone and called Nico Savage.

�Hey, boss,� said Petry�s personal lawyer and fixer.

�I got something that needs taking care of.�

�That�s what I�m here for. Lay it on me.�

�Find out everything you can about a lawyer named Stone Barrington.�

�The guy from the Baker case?�

�That�s the one.� Petry told him what had just happened, then said, �Find a weakness, something we can hit hard without it blowing back on us.�

�On it. Give me twenty-four hours.�

On Monday, Stone sat in his office, feeling restless. Though it had been less than a week since Carly left, it felt closer to a month. He had come to count on her perspective and her keen legal mind.

It�s just temporary, he told himself. She�ll be back.

Probably.

�Are you still moping?� Joan said from his office doorway.

�I�m not moping.�

�You are, and it�s upsetting Tracy.� Tracy West was Stone�s new associate.

�I�m sure she�s not upset.�

�Let�s ask.� Before Stone could stop her, Joan called out, �Tracy, can you come here for a moment.�

�Leave her alone,� Stone said.

Still looking down the hall, Joan said, �Ah, there you are. Come, come.�

A moment later, Tracy appeared beside her, holding a legal pad. She was a slip of a girl, with dark hair pulled back into a ponytail and wide round eyes that, at the moment, appeared nervous.

�Yes?� she said, her voice just above a whisper.

�Stone has a question for you.�

Tracy looked into the office. �Yes, Mr. Barrington?�

�Don�t pay attention to her, Tracy,� Stone said. �You can go back to your office.�

�Just a moment,� Joan said. �Tracy, you know how Stone has been moping around all week?�

�Um, well, I guess.�

�You did ask me about it, didn�t you?�

Tracy looked mortified. �I... I... I didn�t mean...�

Joan glanced at Stone. �She asked me if this is the way you always are.�

Tracy covered her face with the pad. �Oh, God. I�m sorry. I, um...�

�It�s okay, dear,� Joan said. �You have excellent observation skills. And you are right to be upset. He has been moping.�

Tracy stared at Joan, appalled. �You told him I was upset?�

�It�s fine. He needs to hear those kinds of things now and then.� To Stone, Joan said, �What you need is to get out of town. You have the Centurion Pictures board meeting coming up soon, you should head out now. Take in some sun.�

�I can get plenty of sun here, thank you very much.�

�Says the man who hasn�t left the house since last Wednesday.�

He smiled at Tracy. �I appreciate your concern. Thank you. You can return to your office.� His gaze moved to Joan. �As for you, I�m sure there�s something you can busy yourself with.�

The phone began to ring.

�Like that,� he said.

Joan disappeared and the ringing stopped.

�Dino on one,� she yelled.

Stone picked up the line. �What do you want?�

�Just as I suspected,� Dino said. �You�re moping, aren�t you?�

�Have you been talking to Joan?�

�Is this a trick question? She answered the phone.�

�It�s a coordinated attack.�

�Now you�re sounding paranoid. Maybe you should get out of town for a while.�

Stone dropped his forehead into his hand.

�Are you still there?� Dino asked.

�I guess a trip might not be that bad of an idea,� Stone admitted.

�When have I ever steered you wrong?�

�Do you want a complete list or just the highlights?�

�I�ll pretend you didn�t ask that.�

�If I do go somewhere, do you want to join me?�

�Do you think I have unlimited vacation?�

�Based on past history, I�d say yes.�

�That�s where you�re wrong. Plus, even if I did, I have too much going on here right now. And don�t forget Viv and I are joining you in L.A. for the board meeting soon, so I�ll be taking time off for that. Any travel before then, you�ll have to do solo.�

�Fine.�

�Dinner tonight?�

�Patroon at seven?�

�Done.�

Stone spent the next hour attempting to review the draft of a contract for a client, but he kept getting distracted by trying to figure out where he should go. He finally gave up and put his computer to sleep.

Maine was out. Memories of the last visit to his house on Islesboro when elements of the Russian mob had tried to kill him were still too fresh. Key West? Possibly. Though he didn�t like the idea of going there alone.

Maybe Joan was right, and he should simply head to L.A. early. He could spend time with Peter and Hattie, and work remotely until the board meeting.

He was reaching for his desk phone to call Peter to make sure he�d be around when his cell phone rang. The caller ID read No Caller ID.

He scowled. It had to be Lance, calling to brag about how well Carly was doing. Stone almost let it go to voicemail, but ignoring Lance�s calls, no matter how unwanted, was never a good idea.

He hit the accept button.

�Scramble,� a voice said too quickly to be recognized.

�Scramble,� Stone said, confirming his phone was using its CIA-installed encryption. �How can I help you, Lance?�

�I�ve been called many things in my life, but Lance is not one of them.�

Stone instantly relaxed. �Holly. How are you?�

Holly Barker was the president of the United States, Stone�s sometime paramour, and the only woman since Arrington with whom Stone would consider settling down.

�If you�re expecting a call from Lance, we can talk later.�

�Even if I was, he would be the one who would have to wait. Not you.�

�How sweet.�

�You haven�t answered my question. How are you?�

�Feeling like I�m being pulled in a million directions at the same time.�

�So, situation normal.�

�Sadly, yes. I miss you.�

�The feeling is mutual. Say, I�ve been thinking about getting out of the city. How about I come down to D.C. for a few days?�

�That would be lovely, but I won�t be there.�

�Oh.�

�Don�t tell anyone, but I�m sneaking away for some R & R myself, and I thought perhaps you�d like to join me.�

�Very much. Where and when?�

�As far as the press and public will know, I�ll be at Camp David, but really, I�ll be staying at Kate and Will�s in Santa Fe.� Kate and Will Lee were her two immediate predecessors as president. �They�ll be there tomorrow night, then they�re leaving for Hawaii the following day. The place would be all ours. Well, ours and the Secret Service.�

�When will you arrive?�

�I should be there in time for dinner.�

�Then so will I.�

Once they�d said their goodbyes, Stone buzzed Joan. �Call Faith. Tell her we�ll be flying to Santa Fe tomorrow. I�d like wheels up at ten a.m.�

�Taking my advice, I see.�

�Accepting an offer I have no desire to refuse.�

�You say potato.�

�No. I believe I said, �Call Faith.� �

That night, Stone was sound asleep when the alarm control panel on his bedroom wall began beeping.

His house was equipped with a state-of-the-art security system that included bulletproof windows, steel-reinforced doors, motion sensors, cameras, and the most advanced door locks available. Beeping in the night wasn�t common, but with such an advanced system, small glitches weren�t unheard of.

He went to the panel. On the screen was the message INPUT CODE, and below this a countdown that had just changed from 17 to 16. This particular message only appeared when the security system was armed and an exterior door had been opened, giving a person thirty seconds to turn it off after entering the house.

Stone switched on the camera feed that covered the area around the downstairs control panel.

A dark shape huddled in front of the panel, with three other figures standing a few feet away, shining flashlights on the keypad.

Stone jammed the button that would immediately set off the alarm, then retrieved his pistol from the nightstand and rushed out of the room to the top of the stairs.

The whoop-whoop-whoop of the alarm filled the house, and from below he heard someone swear.

He hurried down until he was on the landing above the floor the intruders were on.

�We should split,� one of them said.

�If we do, none of us makes a dime,� another argued.

�Look,� a more authoritative voice said. �We have at least three minutes until the police show up. Let�s do as much as we can before we go.�

�You go ahead,� the first voice said. �I�m out.�

�Me, too,� a new voice said.

Stone heard the front door fly open and then slam shut again, and for a beat thought all four men had left.

But then the authoritative voice said, �Come on. What we�re looking for is upstairs.�

Stone pointed his gun at the lower landing, hoping the sight of it would be enough to scare the remaining intruders into giving up.

The beam of a flashlight hit the bottom step, then one of the remaining black-clad men stepped into view, followed immediately by the other.

�Freeze,� Stone barked, channeling his NYPD days.

Both men�s heads snapped up. One of their flashlights mirrored the motion, and its beam hit Stone in the eyes.

�Gun!� one of them yelled.

�Oh, shit,� the other said.

Nearly half blind, Stone almost missed the guy closest to him starting to raise his own weapon. Stone pulled his trigger.

The shot thundered down the stairs, and the light jerked sideways. Stone couldn�t see much, but he could hear steps running, followed by the front door opening again, and then more steps that soon faded to nothing.

He slapped the wall until he found the switch and flipped on the light.

A body lay on the floor at the bottom of the stairs, a gun on the floor nearby.

Stone crept down to him, alert for anything that would signal that the other intruder was still around, but the house was silent.

There was another light switch near the bottom of the stairs. He flipped it on and lit up the area beyond. Carefully, he peeked around the corner.

He could see all the way to the open front door, and there wasn�t a soul in sight.

He crouched next to the body. The man�s shirt was drenched in blood. Though he was sure it was too late, Stone checked the man for a pulse. There was none.

Stepping lightly, he moved toward the entrance, clearing each space he passed to ensure no one was lying in wait. When he reached the door, he peered outside and confirmed that the immediate area was clear.

From a few blocks away, he could hear a siren heading in his direction. He ducked back inside, shut the door, and went to the nearest phone.

�Why are you calling me in the middle of the night?� Dino answered. �Did someone die?�

�So says the corpse in my hallway.�

�No joke?�

�No joke.�

�How did he die?�

�Painfully, I would think.� As briefly as possible, Stone told him what happened.

�You actually hit him?�

Stone was deadly with a rifle, not so much with handguns.

�I�ve been practicing.�

�Have you called nine-one-one?�

�There�s a siren pulling up out front, so I�d say the NYPD has responded to my alarm.�

�Try not to kill anyone else before I get there.�

�You�re sure there were four of them?� Detective Morris asked.

They were in Stone�s kitchen, out of the way of the crime scene techs. This was the third time Stone was going through what happened.

�I only saw four. There could have been more.�

Morris frowned, unconvinced. He was young and, based on his aggressive questioning, newly promoted.

�And you�re still saying the dead guy intended to shoot you, so you shot first?�

�I can�t tell you what was going on in his head, but when someone points a weapon at you, Detective, what do you do?�

�This isn�t about me, Mr. Barrington. This is about��

�He would have done exactly what you did,� Detective Brennan said calmly. He was Morris�s partner and a veteran detective Stone knew. �I think we�ve heard enough, don�t you, Jimmy?�

�I think he�s hiding something,� Morris said.

Brennan snorted. �You think everyone�s hiding something.�

Dino walked into the room. �Who�s hiding something?�

�Morning, Commissioner,� Brennan said.

Morris�s eyes widened in surprise. �Commissioner Bacchetti.�

�I was beginning to wonder if you fell back asleep,� Stone said. It had been more than thirty minutes since Stone had called him.

�Trust me. I thought about it. What�s going on here?�

�I�ve been explaining what happened to Detectives Brennan and Morris.�

Dino jutted his chin toward Morris. �How many times has he made you go through it?�

�Two and a half so far.�

�Not too bad. I remember you making suspects go through their story five or six times, when you were still green.�

�Yes, but they were all guilty.�

�And you�re not? Correct me if I�m wrong, but you did shoot that guy I saw the coroner wheeling out.�

�True. But as I was explaining��

�For the third time,� Dino clarified.

�For the third time, I shot him in self-defense.�

�I buy it.� Dino looked at the two detectives. �Any reason to think otherwise?�

�Nope,� Brennan said.

�Sir, I would like to question Mr. Barrington further,� Morris said.

�You mean retired NYPD Detective Barrington?� Dino said.

�Detective?� Morris shot a look at Brennan. �You didn�t tell me that.�

Brennan put a hand on his partner�s back and said, �That�ll be all, Stone. Thank you for your cooperation.�

He guided Morris out of the kitchen.

�What does a guy have to do to get some coffee around here?� Dino asked.

�Allow me, Commissioner.� Stone made Dino a coffee, then asked, �I don�t suppose there�s any news on the ones who got away?�

�I put out an APB after I talked to you, but you didn�t give me much to go on.�

�So that�s a no.�

�Perceptive as always.�

Stone motioned toward the hallway where the techs were working. �You�re not going to need me to stay in town because of all this, are you?�

�I don�t know. Could be fun to let Detective Morris spend a little more time with you.�

�I�m supposed to meet Holly in Santa Fe tomorrow night.� Stone checked his watch. It was almost three a.m. �Make that tonight.�

�Far be it from me to stand in the way of the president and her boy toy.�

�Promise me you�ll never say that again.�

�I don�t know. I kind of like it. Hey, maybe the Secret Service can use it as your code name.�

�Don�t even think about suggesting it.�

�Would I do you dirty like that?�

�In a heartbeat.�

�If going to Santa Fe will keep you from being so cranky, go with my blessing. I�ll let you know if we need you back here.�

�Thanks, Dino.�

�Dinner�s on you when Viv and I see you in Los Angeles.�

�It will be my pleasure.�

The last of the police left as Joan arrived in the morning.

�What did I miss?� she asked Stone.

�A few unexpected visitors. I�m surprised they didn�t wake you.�

Stone owned the house next door, which had been divided into apartments, one of which Joan called home.

�I didn�t hear a thing,� she said.

�What is the name of that service that specializes in cleaning up crime scenes?�

�JN Associates?�

�That�s the one. See if they can come this morning and take care of the blood at the bottom of the stairs. I�d rather Helene didn�t have to deal with it.�

Joan arched an eyebrow.

�One of the intruders took a bullet to the chest,� he explained.

�You shot someone without me?�

�Sorry. There wasn�t time to call you first.�

�Likely story.�

�Get ahold of Mike Freeman, too. I doubt whoever they were will be back, but it wouldn�t hurt to have Strategic Services watch the place for a few days.�

�What about your trip?�

�What about it?�

�Are you still going?�

�I�ve been given permission to leave by the commissioner himself. You�ll have to carry on without me.�

�Thank God.�

Nico arrived at work around the same time Stone�s jet left Teterboro that morning.

Angry and wound up about the failed mission at Barrington�s house, he�d managed only a couple of hours of sleep. His mood was not improved when he woke up to several missed calls from Petry. Nico hadn�t called back. As much as he wasn�t looking forward to it, informing his boss what had happened would best be done in person, where he might be able to direct his boss�s ire somewhere other than at Nico himself.

Petry�s assistant was waiting for him when he stepped off the elevator on the fourteenth floor.

�I know,� he said. �He wants to see me.�

The assistant nodded. �He said you are to go straight to his office.�

Nico motioned toward the hallway. �After you.�

Petry Innovations occupied the entire floor, and Petry�s office was in a corner, far from the elevators. When they arrived, the assistant pulled the door open and said, �Mr. Savage is here.�

Petry grunted from somewhere inside, and the woman stepped out of the way so that Nico could enter.

Petry was standing at the floor-to-ceiling window behind his desk, looking out at the city. As soon as the door closed, he whipped around.

�Why didn�t you answer my calls?�

�I was gathering information.� This was true to a point. Nico had talked to a contact at the police station to get details of what had gone down, but that had happened before Petry had tried to reach him.

�I didn�t see anything on the news. Did it happen or not?�

�There was a... complication.�

�What the hell does that mean?�

�Barrington�s security system was better than expected.� This Nico�d learned from his friend with the NYPD, something he wished he�d known prior to the job.

�And?�

�And the people we sent must have set off an alarm that woke up Barrington.�

Petry�s face began to flush. �Are you saying they didn�t do anything?�

�Barrington was waiting for them with a gun. He killed one of them, and the others got away.�

Petry stared at him, slack-jawed. �Are you shitting me?�

�I wish I were.�

Petry grabbed a tablet computer off his desk and hurled it at the wall. �It was a simple job and you fucked it up!�

It was not a simple job, nor did Nico fuck it up, but he wasn�t going to say that.

�There�d better be no way my name gets dragged into this!� Petry said, his tone harsh and threatening.

�The only person on the team I had direct contact with is the man who was killed.�

�Well, that�s a small miracle. You�re sure none of the others knew about us?�

�I�m sure. I set it up that way on purpose.�

�Can the police find us through your contact?�

Nico shook his head. �I never met him in person, and for all calls, I used a burner that�s already been destroyed.�

Petry turned back to the window. �When are you going to try again?�

�Again? I don�t think that�s a good idea. Getting through his security isn�t going to get any easier. I�m told even the officers on scene were impressed by it. And I wouldn�t be surprised if, after this, Barrington beefs up what he already has.�

�Do you think I care about any of that? Figure out a way to get this done or start praying you can find a new job after I nuke your reputation. Or worse.�

�Yes, sir.�

Nico made a hasty exit and hoofed it to his own office at the opposite end of the floor.

His assistant, who always introduced herself as �Karol with a K,� shot out of her seat the second she saw him, a look of worry on her face. �M-M-Mr. Petry has been looking for you all morning.�

�I just saw him.�

�Oh.� She glanced past Nico, as if expecting to see Petry heading this way. �Is everything okay?�

�Couldn�t be better. Get me some coffee.�

�Coffee. Sure.�

He entered his office and shut the door behind him.

Petry was out of his mind. There was no way Nico would send anyone back to Barrington�s house. Doing so would only end in another disaster, making connecting the job back to them even more likely.

The very definition of a fixer�s job was to never let who he was working for get caught. But Nico was sure Petry would not let this go. There was more to his boss�s desire to hurt Barrington than mere retaliation for the trial�s outcome. Nico didn�t know what it was, nor did he want to. What he needed to concentrate on was finding a compromise that would sate his boss, or he could kiss his highly paid career goodbye. Or, as Petry had so eloquently put it, worse.

Karol brought him his coffee and left again as quickly as she came. He sipped it as he went back through the reports about Barrington that his contacts had given him, trying to come up with a solution that would satisfy Petry.

The paintings were such an obvious answer. Damn Toby for messing that up!

A page near the back of one of the reports caught his eye. It was a photo of a document found at a gallery that Barrington had asked to be on the lookout for more of his mother�s work.

While Barrington had apparently made it clear he was interested in any of her pieces, he had also provided a list of the paintings he was most keen on acquiring.

Nico had only glanced at it before as it had no relevance to his plan to break into the lawyer�s house. Now, however, he realized the paintings were the answer, and a new plan formed in his mind.

Implementing it would require a resource he didn�t have direct access to, but he knew someone who could point him to the right people.

Grinning, he called Eddie Benitez, the man who�d gotten Nico into the fixer business.

Holly�s plane landed right on time. Unlike the imposing 747 bearing the presidential seal that usually shepherded her around, this aircraft was an unadorned Gulfstream G-800.

The aircraft taxied to an open hangar, where it was then towed inside. Everyone remained on board until the hangar doors were closed.

Stone had tagged along with the Secret Service detail assigned to pick her up. When Holly deplaned, she walked right into his open arms.

�Welcome to Santa Fe,� he said and gave her a long kiss.

�I didn�t expect to see you until I reached the house.�

�And why would I waste a minute of valuable time?�

�I�ve always liked the way you think.� She kissed him again.

They left the hangar in a black Suburban with tinted windows, flanked by identical vehicles, and were at the Lees� in no time.

The front door swung open as they walked up. Kate stood just inside, holding a margarita in each hand.

�Thirsty?�

Holly smiled. �It�s like you were reading my mind.�

Kate handed one to her and the other to Stone, then leaned in and hugged Holly.

�Where�s Will?� Holly asked.

�Giving Billy a bath. We won�t be eating until seven, so why don�t you settle in. I�m sure Stone wouldn�t mind showing you where you�re staying.�

He smiled. �It would be my pleasure.�

Less than a minute after they were alone, Stone and Holly were under the sheets, their clothes scattered across the floor.

Having been lovers for years, they instinctively knew what the other wanted. Their kisses and caresses and nibbles building each other�s pleasure to a shared crescendo, leaving them both gasping.

�God, I miss that,� Holly said as she rolled onto her back. �Maybe we should reconsider you moving into the White House. You wouldn�t mind being confined to the bedroom, would you? I could probably trot you out for a state dinner now and then.�

�You make it sound so attractive.�

�It would mean unlimited sex.�

�Sold!�

Holly nuzzled his shoulder. �Or we could just stay here.�

�Something tells me your absence would be noticed.�

She nudged his chest. �I have enough devil�s advocates in Washington. Your job is to agree with whatever I say.�

�My mistake. Let�s stay here.�

�That�s more like it.� She tilted her head so she could see him. �I have another idea, too.�

�You do?�

�This one I know you�ll like.�

She pulled him on top of her.

She was right. He did like it.

In New York City, earlier that day, Winston Petry�s intercom beeped. �Yeah?�

�Mr. Savage to see you,� his assistant said.

�Send him in.�

Nico entered and approached Petry�s desk.

Without looking up, Petry said, �So, what�s it to be? Did you bring me your resignation letter, or do you have a new plan?�

�A plan.�

Petry leaned back in his chair and looked at Nico for the first time. �Let�s hear it.�

�We go after his mother�s artwork.�

Petry cocked his head. �Excuse me if I�m wrong, but I distinctly remember you saying that getting back into the house was not an option?�

�I�m not talking about the paintings at his house.�

�Then what the hell are you talking about?�

�Barrington has several art dealers on the lookout for any Matilda Stone paintings that might come up for sale. Apparently, he�s dead set on acquiring most of them.�

�Yeah, you told me that, too. How does that help us?�

�What if we get our hands on some of them before he can?�

�What? Like outbid him? Why would I waste money doing that? And even if I did, who knows when any of her stuff might come up for sale? It could take years. I�m not waiting that long.�

�Not a bidding war. And not years. There are alternative ways of obtaining art besides through legitimate dealers.�

Petry stared at him for a moment, then leaned back. �Go on.�

�I�ve made some inquiries and have identified someone who specializes in obtaining art from private sources for a fraction of the cost compared to the open market.�

�By obtaining, you mean...�

�Stealing.�

The corner of Petry�s mouth ticked upward. �And your plan?�

�We hire this guy to steal a few Matilda Stones, then record them being ripped apart, and send the video to Barrington. Not only would his mother�s work be destroyed, her legacy will be tarnished. Any time her work is brought up in print, online, or is shown at an exhibit, what was done to her paintings will come up, keeping the wound fresh. And the cherry on top: Stone will have to live with the knowledge that these were paintings of hers that can never be his. You want to demoralize Barrington? That should do the trick.�

Petry thought for a moment and nodded. �Okay. This is good. Really good.� He chuckled. �I�m not going to lie, you�ve surprised me. I was convinced you were going to crawl in here and tell me there was nothing we could do. But this? This is the kind of creative thinking I hired you for.�

�I�m glad you like it. It will require more cash than we�d originally allocated.�

�How much more?�

�I�m guessing it could be up to a few hundred grand.�

Petry thought about it for a second. It was more than he originally planned, but if he could humiliate Stone, break him, it would be worth every penny. �I�ll okay you up to half a million but try to keep it under that.�

�That should be plenty.�

�No mistakes this time. I�m not putting up that much cash for you to blow it again.�

�No mistakes. I promise.�

Petry held Nico�s gaze for a moment, then said, �Get moving. I don�t want to wait forever.�

�Five minutes.�

Stone stirred at the sound of Holly�s voice and mumbled, �Five minutes until what?�

When she didn�t answer, he reached over to pull her close, but he couldn�t find her. He cracked open an eye. Her side of the bed was empty.

�Holly?�

He turned to find her exiting the bathroom, dressed in one of her trademark presidential business suits and with a phone to her ear.

�Yes. That will be fine.� She hung up and gave Stone an apologetic smile. �Sorry, I didn�t mean to wake you. Go back to sleep.�

Stone pushed up on his elbows. �What time is it?�

�Six.�

�You look awfully formal for breakfast.�

She sat beside him and took his hand. �An hour ago, North Korea performed an unannounced missile test. The missile came down within fifty kilometers of a joint naval exercise we�re participating in with South Korea and Japan. No one was hurt, and it should all blow over, but...�

�But you�re the president of the United States.�

She nodded. �And it wouldn�t look good if I suddenly started making statements from somewhere I�m not supposed to be.� She leaned down and kissed him. �I�ll make it up to you. I�m just not sure when.�

�When are you leaving?�

�Now, I�m afraid. I�m catching a ride with Kate and Will to the airport.�

�Let me see you out, at least.�

He pulled on some clothes and walked her to the front door.

A half dozen suitcases were lined up in the entryway.

�I didn�t realize you�d brought so much.�

�Those would be ours,� Kate said, walking up behind them.

Will was with her, carrying their still sleeping son.

The front door opened, and a Secret Service agent stepped in. �Madame President, Madame President, Mr. President, whenever you�re ready.�

Stone walked them to the Suburban while several agents carried the Lees� luggage to another vehicle.

�We�ll be gone the rest of the month,� Will said to Stone, following Kate into the SUV. �Stay as long as you want.�

�Thanks and have a great trip,� Stone said.

Holly wrapped her arms around him. �I was so looking forward to this.�

�Me, too.�

They kissed until Will rolled down his window and said, �I don�t mean to be an asshole, but there�s a beach in the Pacific calling my name.�

Stone and Holly reluctantly parted.

�Don�t have too much fun without me,� she said.

�Me? Never.�

She snorted. �Right.� She entered the car, and the motorcade departed.

Stone was waiting on a couch outside Ed�s office when the door opened. Ed stepped out in the company of a man and two women, all in their forties or fifties.

From the trio�s similar facial features, Stone guessed they were related, and from their grim expressions, he was sure the topic they�d been discussing had not been a happy one.

The older of the women shook Ed�s hand. �Thank you, Ed. We know you�re doing what you can. We�ll discuss everything and decide how we want to proceed.�

The other two also shook hands with Ed, then Ed�s secretary escorted them out.

Once they were alone, Ed clapped Stone on the back. �I don�t know about you, but I�m starved.�

Later that afternoon, Simon Duchamp locked himself inside the small office at the back of Duchamp Gallery Santa Fe and used a new burner phone to call Dalton Conroy.

Conroy was his inside man at Vitale Insurance. The company offered a wide variety of specialized plans, including policies for valuable works of art. Conroy oversaw fraud investigations, had access to who had what art pieces, where the pieces were kept, and any security that was used to protect said pieces.

It took four rings before the insurance exec picked up. �Yes?�

�Is this a bad time?�

�Oh, it�s you. Call you back in five.�

The line went dead.

Simon looked at his phone, eyebrow raised.

Conroy had a higher opinion of his status than was warranted, both in his importance to Simon and at his day job. Simon knew for a fact the man often took credit for work done by subordinates. For a long time, Simon had been able to overlook the man�s arrogance thanks to the quality of information passed on, but recently, Conroy had begun acting as if Simon couldn�t operate without him.

While it was true that the information he sourced was useful to each job, Conroy was not irreplaceable. There were plenty of other well-placed people who could do what he did. All it took was identifying a person�s weakness, applying pressure where needed, and then offering a suitable amount of money to �solve the problem.� The classic stick and carrot.

It was almost ten minutes before Conroy called back.

�What do you want?� Conroy said.

�If I�m troubling you, I�ll find what I need elsewhere.�

Conroy laughed. �Like you could do that.�

�I could. Easily.�

The line went quiet for a moment.

�Sorry,� Conroy mumbled. �Things are a little busy here. I�ve been looking for a replacement for that person I had to fire last week, while making sure the cases she�d been working on are covered.�

�Finding the right people for a job is always difficult.� Simon could care less about Conroy�s personnel problems, but as the saying went, you catch more flies with honey.

�You can say that again. Anyway, what are you looking for?�

�The artist�s name is Matilda Stone, active second half of the last century.�

�Title of the picture?�

�I just need to know the location of as many of her paintings as you can find. And I need the info asap.� While Simon had the list from Nico, there was no need to share it with Dalton.

�Sounds like a big job.�

�The size of the job is not your concern.�

�All right, all right. I didn�t mean anything by it. I should have something for you in three or four days.�

�Two days tops. One would be better.�

�I can�t promise you that.�

�Then your services are no longer needed. Goodbye, Mr.��

�Hold on. I didn�t say I couldn�t do it.�

�It sounded that way to me.�

�I�ll have it for you in two days.�

�That�s better.�

�But I want...�

�You want what?�

�I... I want double my usual fee.�

Simon narrowed his eyes. �Standard fee, per our agreement.�

�I�m updating our agreement.�

Simon didn�t respond.

�Or I guess I could let the authorities know about your operation.�

�You seem to forget that if I go down, you go down with me.�

�Mutually assured destruction. But then again, you�re the bigger fish, which means it should be easy to get immunity in exchange for my testimony.�

Simon definitely needed to start looking for a new source. This wasn�t just boring, it was getting on his nerves.

�All right, Mr. Conroy. Double fee on this job. But this is a onetime thing. Do not expect it to happen again in the future.�

�Whatever you say.�

Simon stabbed the disconnect button and then called Phillip, his bodyguard.

�Yes, Mr. Duchamp?�

�I�m in the back office.�

�I�ll be right there.�

Phillip entered a few moments later. He was a big, bald slab of muscle shoved into a black suit and tie. Because of this, he was often assumed to be lacking intelligence. That was far from the case.

�I�m growing concerned about Dalton Conroy,� Simon said.

�I see.�

�I don�t want you to do anything yet, but I have a feeling our relationship with him will soon need to be terminated.�

�I�ll await your word.�

�Thank you, Phillip. How are we doing on the other matter?�

�I should have the problem dealt with soon.�

�Have you figured out who it is?�

�I�ll know by tomorrow evening.�

There was a leak somewhere in Simon�s operation. Ironically, he would not have known about it if not for Dalton. The leaker had apparently contacted an investigator who worked under him. Unfortunately, Dalton didn�t know the leaker�s identity.

�Very good. The sooner we can put this behind us, the better.�

�Understood.�

The following evening, Stone and the Eagles enjoyed an excellent steak dinner, then headed to the exhibit at Duchamp Gallery.

The place was packed with people dressed in everything from Prada dresses and Armani suits to ripped Levi�s and BlackPink T-shirts. Stone spotted three well-known actors who had vacation homes in the area, and an aging pop star now famous for judging TV singing shows.

�The artist is local,� Susannah said. �Ivonne Cervantes. Have you heard of her?�

�I haven�t,� Stone admitted.

�Then you�re in for a treat.�

There were more than thirty paintings on display, most of them mounted to the walls, with a few scattered throughout the space, hanging from the ceiling on wires.

Susannah guided them to the nearest piece, a stunning photo-realistic portrait of an older Hispanic woman defiantly staring forward, over an abstract background of multicolored rays.

Susannah was right. Cervantes�s work was stunning.

A woman approached, smiling broadly. She had long salt-and-pepper hair that fell well below her shoulders and looked like a younger version of the woman in the painting.

�Ed, Susannah, I�m so glad you could make it.�

She gave them each a kiss on the cheek.

�Wouldn�t have missed it for the world,� Susannah said. �Stone, I�d like to introduce you to Ivonne Cervantes. Ivonne, this is our friend Stone Barrington.�

�A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Barrington.�

�Please, call me Stone. And the pleasure is all mine, Ms. Cervantes. Your work is exquisite.�

�You are too kind. And if I�m to call you Stone, then you must call me Ivonne.�

�Ivonne, then.� He gestured to the painting �I take it she�s a relative.�

She smiled. �My mother.�

�Speaking of mothers,� Susannah said. �You may be familiar with Stone�s.�

�Oh? And who is she?�

�Matilda Stone,� Stone said.

�My God. I love her work.�

�As do I.�

�I attended an exhibit in New York that included several pieces of hers. They drew me in instantly.�

�She would have appreciated that. For me, each is more than just the painting itself. They�re memories of her and my father and our lives together. Which makes them priceless as far as I�m concerned.�

�Do you own many yourself?�

�Not nearly as many as I�d like.� He looked back at the painting on the wall near them. �I must say, your work shares the same qualities as hers.�

Ivonne tucked her arm through his. �For that, you get a guided tour. And, please, don�t feel the need to hold back on compliments.�

She took Stone and the Eagles around the gallery, giving insights into each painting they passed.

They were about halfway through the exhibit when a man approached, smiling broadly. �And who do we have here?�

He couldn�t have been more than five and a half feet tall, and was dressed in a vibrant blue suit, matching blue tie, and black shirt. His thick-framed glasses were also blue, and his spiked graying hair seemed glued in place.

�These are my good friends Susannah and Ed Eagle, and their friend Stone Barrington,� Ivonne said. She motioned to the man. �This is Simon Duchamp, owner of the gallery.�

Simon flashed a set of bright white teeth. �Isn�t Ivonne�s work marvelous?� Without waiting for an answer, he leaned forward and stage-whispered, �We�ve already sold six. So, if there�s one you�re interested in, I wouldn�t wait too long.�

�Oh, Simon, stop with the hard sell,� Ivonne said, though the news clearly pleased her.

�Are you collectors?� Simon asked.

�We have several works by local artists in our home,� Ed said. �Including two by Ivonne.�

�I love hearing that. And you, Mr. Barrington?�

�I am.�

�His mother was Matilda Stone,� Ivonne says.

Simon�s expression seemed to momentarily freeze, then his eyes brightened as if he were impressed. �My, my. That�s wonderful. Such a talent. Do you have any of her paintings?�

�Over a dozen.�

�How remarkable. Would you ever consider selling any? If so, I know I wouldn�t have any problem finding a buyer.�

�Not even if I was down to my last penny. But if you ever hear of one coming on the market, I would be very interested. I take pleasure in finding them and adding to my collection.� Stone pulled out a business card and handed it to Simon.

�If that happens, you�ll be my first call.� Simon slipped the card into his pocket. �Now, if you�ll excuse us. Ivonne, there�s someone you should meet.�

�Do you mind continuing on your own?� Ivonne asked.

�We�ve already monopolized you more than we should have,� Stone said.

�Nonsense. I enjoyed every second.�

�Lunch next week?� Susannah asked her.

�Absolutely.� Ivonne gave them a quick wave and followed Simon into the crowd.

Ed excused himself to use the restroom, and Stone and Susannah moved to the next painting, joining two women who were already admiring it. Both had dark hair, one with hers cut just above her shoulders, and the other with hers falling halfway down her back. The former looked familiar to Stone, but he couldn�t place where he�d seen her.

�Donna?� Susannah said.

The woman with shorter hair looked over. �Susannah.�

They hugged.

�It�s good to see you out,� Susannah said.

She introduced her to Stone as Donna Otero, and upon hearing the name, he realized she was one of the people who�d left Ed�s office the day before.

Donna introduced the other woman with her as her cousin, Monica Reyes.

Monica�s dark eyes lingered on Stone�s as she said, �Nice to meet you.�

�And I you,� he said, his gaze lingering in the same way.

�Do you live in Santa Fe, Stone?� Donna asked.

�I used to have a house here, but my home has always been in New York.�

�What do you do there?�

�He�s a partner at one of the most prestigious law firms in the city,� Susannah said.

�We like to think the most,� Stone said.

Donna�s face brightened. �You�re the one interested in my father�s property, aren�t you?�

�Well...�

�Sorry. I didn�t mean to blindside you. Ed told my brother that he�d shown the property to someone he knew from New York who might be interested in buying it. He never mentioned a name.�

�Interested, yes, but no promises an offer will be forthcoming.�

�I understand. But you should know we are... What�s the term?�

�Motivated sellers?� Monica offered.

�That�s it.�

�Don�t let Ed know you told me that, or he�ll give you a stern talking to,� Stone said.

�Don�t let Ed know what?� Ed said, rejoining them.

Donna mimed sealing her lips, then whispered to Stone, �Remember, motivated.�

�Tell me a little bit about you,� Stone said to Monica, handing her a glass of champagne.

They�d become separated from the others and had been making their way through the gallery at their own pace.

�Me?� Monica said. �Well, let�s see. I�m from a little town in��

�Don�t tell me. Georgia, and the town�s name is Delano.�

�That�s oddly specific.�

�Let�s just say I�ve met a few people from there.�

�Sorry to disappoint, but I�ve never been to Georgia in my life.�

�Oh.�

�I�m from a little town called Fillmore in California. Have you heard of it?�

�I don�t think so.�

�It�s in Ventura County, north of Los Angeles. Farm country.�

�And were you a farmer?�

�My father was a supervisor at an avocado farm, but we lived in town. No farm work for me, I�m afraid. I was a barista on weekends and can still make a mean latte.�

�Is that so? I might have to test you.�

�Careful. You�ll never want one from anyone else.�

After they�d seen everything, Stone led her back to a painting of a young woman riding a horse over a similar background as the one in the portrait of Ivonne�s mother. The rider looked a lot like Arrington. On the info card beside the painting was written the title Escape.

�I take it this one�s caught your eye,� Monica said.

�It has.�

�It�s stunning.�

Stone motioned for a gallery employee to come over.

�How may I help you?� the man asked.

�Has this one been sold yet?�

�One moment, I�ll check.� The man disappeared into the crowd.

�Are you thinking of buying that for yourself?� Monica asked.

�For my son.�

Peter often mentioned having loved watching his mother ride when they lived in Virginia.

�How old is your son?�

�Old enough to have won an Academy Award.�

Monica looked confused, then her eyebrows shot upward. �Peter Barrington? The director?�

�That�s him.�

�I�ve seen all of his films. I love his work.�

�I�ll tell him you said so.�

The employee returned. �Good news. It�s still available.�

�Not anymore.�

The paperwork was quickly dealt with and arrangements were made to have the painting shipped to Peter in L.A. after the exhibit closed.

�You�re very decisive,� Monica said.

�In most things.�

�Is that so?�

�Would you like to come back to my place for a nightcap?�

�I see what you mean.�

He offered her his arm. �Shall we, then?�

She took it. �Lead the way.�

Stone woke to the brush of Monica�s lips traveling down his chest.

�Good morning,� he said.

She moved her lips several inches south. �Only good?�

�Is that what I said? I meant great.�

He drifted into a half-dream state as she worked him to the edge of endurance, then backed off to prolong his agony. Finally, she rolled onto her back and pulled him on top of her, then gently guided him home.

She held him close as his rhythm rocked her into the mattress. With one hand, she guided his pace, sometimes urging him faster and other times slower, teasing the most out of every moment.

Sensing he could hold out no longer, she clutched him even tighter, and as he finished, she shuddered below him. When the world finally came back into focus, they kissed soft and deep and long.

Stone had been with more physical lovers, but seldom had there been one so sensuous. She was, in a word, intoxicating.

While Monica showered, Stone found Martha in the kitchen and discussed breakfast. After he was clean and dressed, they ate eggs, chorizo, and skillet-fried potatoes poolside.

�I could get used to this,� Monica said.

�Then what do you say to breakfast again tomorrow?�

�Just breakfast?�

�Naturally, we�ll have dinner together this evening first. Unless you have other plans.�

�I do have some work to do today, but I could make myself available later.�

�Pick you up at seven?�

�You haven�t even dropped me off yet.�

�Technicalities.�

She smirked. �Seven is perfect.�

After they finished, Stone drove her to her cousin�s house, then headed to the airport.

Having arrived a bit early, he stopped by to check on his G-500 and found Faith there.

�Morning. Didn�t expect to see you here. Everything all right?�

�One of the tires needed changing. Had the FBO do it this morning. Just checking their work.� FBO was short for fixed-base operator, companies that provide aviation services to private and chartered aircraft, among others.

�All good now?�

�Aces,� she said. �I was thinking about taking a road trip to Roswell. My boyfriend�s son is into UFOs lately, and I�d like to get him a few souvenirs.�

�Boyfriend?�

This was news to Stone. He and Faith had had a short-lived relationship before she had started working for him, which was when he learned about her rule of never sleeping with anyone more than three times. Not wanting to be controlled by what he considered a random number, he had ended things after two.

�I know, I know,� she said. �I�m just as surprised as you.�

�Is he good to you?�

�Very.�

�Then I�m happy for you.�

�Thanks. And my side trip?�

�Go. I�ll call you if I need you to come back.�

The rumble of an approaching jet drew their attention to the sky.

�Another G-500,� Faith said. She squinted. �Is that the Strategic Services jet?�

Stone checked his watch. �I believe it is.�

The plane landed without issue and taxied to the area in front of the hanger Stone�s plane was using.

�Try not to get abducted by aliens,� Stone said to Faith, then walked over to the newly arrived jet.

Mike exited first, followed by Herb Fisher, and three people Stone didn�t know.

�Good flight?� Stone asked.

�Textbook,� Mike said.

He introduced the rest of the team. Architect Eliza Dinh and project manager Cory Aldridge were representing the architectural firm Athey & Li, and engineer Ellen Herlin, Black/Ross Engineering.

Mike and Herb rode with Stone, while the others took a rental van.

As they neared the site Herb said, �This place is gorgeous.�

�I second that,� Mike said.

�Hold your reviews until you see the actual site,� Stone told them.

They soon arrived and made their way to the same vista point Ed had taken Stone.

�The property goes to just beyond those trees,� Stone said, pointing across the shallow valley. �And spreads in both directions about the same distance.�

The others took in the view, no one saying a word.

Finally, Mike asked, �Is this ridge part of the property?�

�It is. The property line abuts the road we came in on.�

�And is that the only access?� Eliza asked.

�Yes, but Ed Eagle said there�s a good place on the west side for a road that could connect to the main highway.�

She made a note on her tablet computer. After a few more questions were asked and answered, the three experts hiked farther along the ridge, leaving Stone, Mike, and Herb behind.

�What do you think?� Stone asked.

�I think I�m glad Phoenix fell through. Barring technical issues, this place is perfect.�

�I agree.� Stone turned to Herb. �Meet with Ed Eagle and work up a purchase agreement. Make sure he understands it�s contingent on our final decision.�

�You got it,� Herb said.

Mike checked his watch. �I need to get back to the plane. Herb, you have your hotel information?�

�All set.�

�I feel good about this,� Mike said.

�So do I,� Stone said.

He dropped Mike back at the airport and was heading back to the Lees� when Monica called.

�Are you free for lunch?� she asked.

�I thought you had work to do.�

�I thought I did, too, but the person I�m supposed to meet with isn�t getting back to me.�

�In that case, I would love to have lunch with you. Shall I pick you up?�

Stone ordered the broiled salmon, while Monica opted for the southwest chicken salad. For drinks, Stone chose the Kellerei Cantina Terlano Pinot Grigio.

�I have to admit, I�m pleasantly surprised,� Monica said, after they�d each taken a drink.

�By the wine?�

�By you.�

�Me? What did I do?�

�It�s more what you didn�t do.�

�Which is?�

�Disappear on me. In my experience, men have the habit of making themselves scarce after a night together.�

�Has this happened often?�

�Often enough to be a pattern.�

�The thought never crossed my mind.�

�I�m glad for that.� She put a hand over his and gave it a squeeze. �You never told me what part of New York you live in.�

�Turtle Bay.�

�I�m not sure where that is.�

�You know where the UN is?�

�Yes.�

�Turtle Bay.�

�That�s a nice neighborhood. You have an apartment?�

�A full townhouse.�

�Lucky you,� she said.

�You don�t know how right you are. I inherited it from my great-aunt when I was still on the police force.�

�You were a cop?�

�A homicide detective.�

�How does a homicide detective with an inherited house from a great-aunt become a high-powered attorney who is friends with presidents?�

�By means of a bullet to the knee, police department politics, and a lawyer friend who lent me a hand when I needed it most. The rest is just details.�

�I�m not sure where to start unpacking all of that.�

�How about you? Where do you live?�

�I should probably lie and say I live on the Upper East Side, but the truth is I missed out on the rich great-aunts. The biggest place I was shown in Manhattan that I could afford was barely larger than the closets in my parents� house back in Fillmore. Which is why I live in a one-bedroom in Brooklyn.� She smirked. �I�m sorry. Does that mean you are going to disappear on me now?�

�Hardly. Besides, I�ve known people who lived in Brooklyn.�

�Name two. And I don�t count.�

�Ah, here comes our lunch.�

The waiter arrived and set plates in front of each of them. �Is there anything else I can help you with?�

�I think we�re good for now,� Stone said, shooting a glance at Monica for confirmation.

She nodded, and the waiter left.

�If you�re interested in moving across the river,� Stone said, �I have an empty apartment you are welcome to use. It�s in the house next door to mine. It�s been divided into several flats.�

�Is this a serious offer?�

�It could be.�

�Thank you. I�ll think about it.�

The salmon was as good as Stone had hoped, and from Monica�s look of satisfaction, her salad was equally delicious.

While they waited for their check, Stone said, �I know we have plans for dinner already, but if you don�t need to work this afternoon, can I entice you into a little outing?�

�I�m intrigued. What kind of outing?�

�Oh, no. You need to choose first.�

�One second.� She pulled out her phone, studied the screen, then set the device down. �Still no word from the person I�m supposed to meet, so it appears that I�m free. Now can you tell me?�

�Absolutely not. But I would suggest putting on something more comfortable.�

�You don�t like what I�m wearing?�

She had on a pale yellow sleeveless dress that looked stunning against her golden skin. �I like it very much, but trust me, you�ll be happier if you change.�

�Into what?�

�Pants and a comfortable shirt. Jeans would probably be best if you have them.�

�You�re not going to be putting me to work, are you?�

�You�ll find out soon enough.�

After Stone paid the bill, Monica nodded toward the restrooms. �I need to make a stop.�

�I�ll meet you in front.�

When Stone reached the lobby, the only other people present were the hostess and a man looking at his phone, waiting for a table.

Monica soon reappeared in the dining room, walking toward the front. She was almost abreast of the hostess when the waiting diner looked up.

She stopped short when she saw him, both of them staring at each other in surprise.

�What the hell are you doing here?� the man said.

Monica quickly regained her composure and started to walk past him without answering. But he grabbed her arm and stopped her.

�I asked you a question.�

One step, and Stone was standing beside him, his hand clamping down on the man�s shoulder.

�Hey!� the man said.

�Let her go.�

�Stay out of this, buddy. It isn�t any of your concern.�

As he said this, Monica twisted her arm out of the man�s grasp and took a step back.

�I�m not finished with you!� he yelled.

�You damn well are,� she said. �I don�t work for you anymore, Dalton. Remember?�

His eyes narrowed. �Wait. You�re not still trying to prove that ridiculous hunch of yours, are you?�

�We have nothing to talk about. Come on, Stone.�

She headed out the door with Stone.

Dalton followed after them. �This is so typical of you. You were always going off rogue and never listened to me. That�s why you lost your job, you know. If you�d shown even a little respect, I might have kept you around.�

She kept walking without looking back.

�See! I�m right. Still not listening.�

Stone had had enough. He turned and stepped in front of the man. �Dalton, is it?�

�I said this is none of your business.�

He tried to go around Stone, but Stone shifted so he was still in the man�s path.

�Actually, it is.� He pulled out a business card and held it out. �Allow me to introduce myself. I�m Miss Reyes�s attorney. If you continue harassing her, I�ll have a restraining order slapped on you before the day�s out, and I will inform your employer about your behavior.�

Dalton looked at the card. �This has a New York address. I doubt you�re even licensed to practice in New Mexico.�

�You don�t think that I have contacts here who would be more than happy to do it for me?�

Dalton grimaced in frustration, then balled up Stone�s card and tossed it on the ground. Glaring past Stone at Monica, he shouted, �I don�t ever want to see you again!�

�I can assure you the feeling�s mutual,� Stone said.

Dalton�s eyes settled on Stone for a second before he headed back into the restaurant.

Dalton contemplated ordering a third martini but forced himself to refrain. He needed to stay sharp.

That damn Monica Reyes.

Two months ago, she�d come to him with a theory about several recent insurance claims for high-end art that had been destroyed in various incidents. She believed they weren�t destroyed at all, but had been stolen by the same group of people. The little evidence she had was circumstantial at best, but she�d been convinced she was right. Which, of course, she was.

His first instinct had been to shut her down completely, but he worried that doing so would only strengthen her suspicions. So, instead, he�d given her a little rope, in the hope she�d hit a dead end and lose interest.

What he hadn�t counted on was Monica�s tenacity. Though unaware of it, she�d come close to foiling jobs more than once. Dalton had been forced to take a more active role in deflecting her interests, even going so far as to plant false evidence that should have derailed her investigation.

But she just kept pushing and pushing. Two weeks ago, she�d told him she�d been contacted by someone claiming to have firsthand knowledge of the thefts. He�d pressed her for the person�s name, but she said all contact was via a generic e-mail account, so she didn�t know. As proof of the source�s credibility, the e-mailer had provided several bits of info that aligned with Monica�s theories, so Monica was sure the person was on the up-and-up.

That was troubling enough, but when she asked for funds to cover a trip to Santa Fe to meet her source in person, the alarm bells in Dalton�s head really started clanging. Simon had a gallery in Santa Fe. Though Monica hadn�t mentioned the art dealer�s name, Dalton couldn�t take the chance that her source wasn�t connected in some way.

Dalton�s first act was to inform Simon of a possible leak within his organization. He said an anonymous tip had come into Vitale Insurance about the thefts, which was true, and warned Simon it must have been someone in his inner circle. He purposely didn�t mention Monica�s involvement. He didn�t want to give Simon reason to think that he couldn�t control his own staff and therefore was a liability.

Dalton ultimately altered reports that Monica had filed on several past cases, intentionally introducing errors, then used them as reasons to terminate her. He�d assumed that had stopped her meddling, but given that she was here in Santa Fe, he was clearly wrong.

Whether he should have told Simon about Monica when she�d first started sniffing around the thefts or not, he had no idea. What he did know was that if he told him now, Dalton could kiss away any chances of getting a bigger piece of the pie.

He wasn�t about to let that happen, which meant he would have to deal with Monica himself. Exactly how he�d have to figure out. But right now, it was time to see Simon to change their arrangement.

While Dalton was at lunch, stewing over his encounter with Monica, she and Stone were headed across town in silence.

Monica, who was still rattled by seeing her former boss, had been staring out the window and didn�t rouse from her stupor until she realized the vehicle had stopped in front of her cousin�s house. �What are we doing here?�

�A change of clothes. Remember?�

�Oh, right.� She sighed. �Maybe I should take a rain check.�

�Not a cloud in the sky.�

�You know what I mean.�

�Because of Dalton?�

�I can�t begin to tell you how sorry I am about all that. He�s the last person I expected to run into.�

�I got that impression, but I don�t see why you have anything to be sorry about. Nor do I think you should let him ruin your day.�

She took in his words, then smiled for the first time since lunch. �You�re right. To hell with him.�

�Seconded!�

She opened her door. �Something comfortable, you said? Like for a hike?�

�That�ll work.�

�I won�t be long.�

Ten minutes later, she was back in the car, wearing a pair of sturdy boots, blue jeans, and a green button-up shirt. �How�s this?�

�It couldn�t be more perfect.�

�What about your clothes?�

�I�ll change when we get there.�

�Ooh, do I get to watch?�

�If you do, we may not get to do the other thing I have planned.�

�I�m willing to take that chance if you are.�

He drove her to the ranch of a friend he�d made while he�d still owned the Lees� house. After retrieving a change of clothes from the trunk, he led Monica into the stables, where a ranch hand had two horses saddled and waiting.

�We�re going riding?� Monica asked, excited.

�I take it this isn�t your first time.�

�In years, yes, but not my first. My high school boyfriend was president of the FFA club.� She was referring to the Future Farmers of America. �It was one of our favorite things to do.�

�Then you won�t be joining me while I change?�

She looked torn.

�Too many good choices?�

�Something like that.� She took a breath. �Go change. We�ll have time for taking advantage of each other tonight.�

�I�ll hold you to that.� He grinned.

Once Stone changed outfits, they set off on a trail that took them into the mountains.

�I�m glad you didn�t let me back out of this. It�s exactly what I needed. And thank you for helping at the restaurant, too. I should have said that before.�

�Even if I wasn�t there, you would have held your own.�

�It�s nice to know there�s someone who would back me up like that.�

�Dalton used to be your boss?�

�Yes.�

�The same boss you talked to on the phone last night?�

She nodded.

�I can understand why you left for another job.�

Grimacing, she said, �I haven�t been completely open about my situation. Technically, I�m unemployed.�

�Left or fired?�

�The latter. And unjustly.�

�When?�

�Twelve days ago.�

Smirking, Stone said, �If his demeanor at work was anything like his behavior at the restaurant, he must have been a delight to work for.�

�Yeah, he�s quite the prick.�

�I think you�re being too kind.�

She laughed. �Probably.�

The path narrowed for a bit, forcing them to ride single file. When it widened again, Stone moved his horse to the side to make room for Monica.

�You mentioned working in finance, but you never said exactly what you did,� he said.

�Insurance, actually. I�m a fraud investigator at Vitale Insurance. Was a fraud investigator, I mean.�

�And the prick?�

�My VP.�

�Ah, a prime example of the dregs rising to the top.�

�Why does that always seem to happen?�

�Trickle-down stupidity,� Stone said. �Let me guess, all the execs there are like him.�

�It is a boys� club, so kind of. But he�s developed his special brand of assholery.�

�Why did Dalton think you�re working on something?�

�Because I am.�

�And that would be?�

�The same case I was working on at Vitale when he let me go. He thinks it�s a waste of time, but I know it isn�t. And once I crack it, I�ll present my report to his bosses and get him fired.�

�That�s what he meant by the going rogue comment?�

She nodded.

�What�s the case?�

�I specialize in art theft, and it�s my belief that there�s an organized ring operating in the States right now.�

�You have evidence of this?�

�It�s admittedly thin, but I trust my instincts, and my instincts say something�s going on.�

The path forked, and Stone guided them onto the trail on the left. �I would think that kind of theft would be easy to prove. I mean, a piece of art is either there or it�s not.�

�You would think so, but it�s not quite as clear-cut as that.�

�How so?�

�One client kept a pair of Picasso drawings on a yacht that, just over a year ago, sank in water deep enough to discourage salvage attempts. Authorities determined it to be an accident, and Vitale forked over a nice check.�

�But you don�t think the drawings went down with the boat.�

�I did at first. But then a few months later, a Matisse, worth millions, was lost in a house fire on Martha�s Vineyard. The only thing left was the corner of a frame.

�Before that a cargo truck that had been transporting a Frida Kahlo went up in flames. Then there was another boat that burned and sank on Lake Michigan with several expensive pieces on board. And I�ve found at least two other cases where insured artworks were destroyed in ways that made identification impossible. But while I saw a pattern, Dalton thought I was making something out of nothing.�

�Then Dalton�s an idiot, though I guess we�ve already established that. Do you have anything concrete that connects the cases together?�

�Not yet, but I�m close. That�s why I�m in Santa Fe actually. I was contacted by someone who claimed to have information about a couple of the destroyed paintings. Before I could set up an official meeting with him, Dalton fired me. I wasn�t going to give up, though. I kept pressing the source. Three days ago, he agreed to meet me at the Ivonne Cervantes opening last night. But right before Donna and I arrived, he texted saying that he needed to postpone until today. I haven�t heard a peep from him since.�

�Cold feet?�

�I�m hoping not.�

�What�s his name?�

�Honestly, I don�t even know if he�s a man. All our communication has been either by e-mail or text.�

�Has he given you anything you can use?�

She shook her head. �He was going to do that when we met in person. What do you think? Am I wasting my time on nothing?�

�Even with the little you�ve told me I can see it�s worth looking into.�

�Thank you, Stone. You don�t know how much I needed to hear that.�

�You know, if things don�t work out with Vitale or even if they do and you�d like to take your talents elsewhere, I can be of some assistance.�

�Does your firm employ fraud investigators?�

�Not my firm, but Steele Insurance does.�

�Steele Insurance? Do you know someone there?�

�Yes. Me. I�m on their board.�

She stared at him, wide-eyed. �You are a handy man to know.�

�Feel free to show your appreciation later tonight.�

�Why wait for tonight?� She turned her horse back the way they�d come and looked over her shoulder. �Coming?�

He brought his gelding around. �After you.�

On Monday morning at the Centurion Pictures lot in Los Angeles, a preproduction meeting was just wrapping up for Peter Barrington�s next feature. In addition to Peter, the participants included Ben Bacchetti, head of Centurion and one of the film�s main producers; Billy Barnett, the film�s other main producer; the line producer; various department heads for such things as costumes, sets, lighting, locations, and transportation; and a handful of assistants.

Billy Barnett�s real name was Teddy Fay, but only a handful of trusted people knew that. As far as most of the world knew, Teddy � a former member of the CIA � had died in a plane crash several years ago. A master of disguise, he had created his Billy Barnett identity so that he could operate freely in Hollywood.

�When do you think you can have a revised schedule?� Billy asked the line producer.

She looked over her notes. �Lunchtime tomorrow okay?�

�Good by me. Ben?�

�Me, too,� Ben said. �Anyone else have something we need to discuss?�

There were head shakes all around.

�Great. We�ll meet again next week same time.�

As everyone stood and began gathering their things, Stacy Lange � Billy�s personal assistant � leaned toward him and whispered, �Party.�

�Right.� He raised his voice and said, �Those of you who are helping with the party on Saturday following the board of directors meeting, make sure you let Stacy know if you need anything. No last-minute hitches, please.� He glanced at Stacy. �That was it, right?�

She gave him a thumbs-up and joined the line heading out the door.

�Billy, Peter and I are going to grab lunch,� Ben said. �You want to join us?�

Billy checked his watch. �No time. I need to be at my house by two.�

�That�s right,� Peter said. �Today�s the day.�

�It is, indeed.�

�The day for what?� Ben asked.

�The surprise for my dad,� Peter said.

�Oh, right. Hey, Billy, are we going to get a sneak peek?�

�Don�t even bother asking,� Peter said. �I�ve already tried. Billy says no one sees it until Dad does.�

�One hundred percent correct,� Billy said.

�You�re no fun,� Ben said.

�I�m a producer. I�m not supposed to be fun.� Billy pulled the strap of his leather briefcase over his shoulder. �Now, if you gentlemen are done wasting my time, I�ll be off.�

The delivery van driver slammed on the brakes and stared at the sight ahead.

�Oh, shit,� his coworker said from the passenger seat.

A wall of fire filled the road, a few dozen feet in front of them.

�Back up, back up!�

That snapped the driver out of his daze. He reached for the shifter, but before he could put it into reverse, someone knocked on his window.

Standing outside was a man in a uniform and face mask, just like the guy who had sent them down this road.

The man motioned for the driver to roll down his window. He did so.

�You can�t come this way,� the man said.

�I see that. I�m going to turn around.�

�Can�t go that way, either.�

�What do you mean?�

�Exactly what I said.�

Without any other warning, the man brought up a small canister and sprayed its contents into the cab.

Within seconds, both deliverymen were unconscious.

Simon arrived in Los Angeles mid-afternoon. Dalton had insisted on tagging along. That was fine by Simon. He wanted to keep Dalton close so there would be no delay in dealing with him when the time came.

Phillip had taken an earlier flight and was waiting for them at the curb outside baggage claim when they exited the terminal.

Without a word, Phillip took their bags and placed them in the trunk of the town car.

Dalton had started to get into the back with Simon, but Simon blocked his way. �You�re in front.�

�Why?�

�I have business to conduct that is of no concern to you.�

Dalton�s expression turned suspicious. �How do I know that?�

�Because I just told you.�

�We�re partners now, remember?�

�We are not partners in all of my business dealings. And in the part that we are, my decisions will be made without your input. Now, get in the front.�

Dalton grumbled but did as he was told, and soon the town car joined the mass of vehicles making the slow trek out of LAX.

Simon raised the privacy barrier and called his brother. �Well?�

�All done.�

�You got it?�

�Yeah.�

�Any issues?�

�Um, not really.�

Simon�s eyes narrowed. �What happened?�

�Nothing big. We got the painting. Everything�s fine.�

�What happened?�

�The fire we used as a distraction flared up again after we left. It�s no big deal. The fire department put it out before it could damage any homes.�

�I told you not to cause a scene.� It had been an impossible task, given the nature of what they had been doing, but drawing more attention to the theft was not something Simon wanted.

�It�s fine. The only casualties are a few trees.�

�That�s not the point! I need you to do what I tell you, no matter what.�

�I know. I�m sorry. We thought we�d put it out. I should have double-checked. Won�t happen again.�

Benji had always been a thorn in Simon�s side. They were fifteen years apart and shared the same father. Simon would have broken off all contact with him years ago if it weren�t for the fact that Benji was willing to do whatever Simon asked of him. Having someone like that in his pocket had been very handy.

�Where are you now?� Simon asked.

�A motel in the Valley. North Hollywood, I think.�

�Text me the address. I�ll come to you.�

Stone and Monica returned from a relaxing weekend in Taos to the Lees� place at lunchtime. The only hiccups in their time away were Monica not yet hearing back from Tristan Williams, and Dino reporting that the Santa Fe police still considered Joshua Paskota�s death an accident.

Stone had several messages from Joan and spent the rest of the afternoon catching up with work.

When he finally finished, the sun was setting. He could hear Monica swimming laps outside, so he donned his swimsuit and went out to join her.

�I was beginning to think you�d never show up,� she said, after he dove in.

�Won�t happen again.�

�Promise?� she asked impishly.

He turned his attention to the sky. �My, what a lovely sunset.�

She splashed him. �I thought as much.�

In retaliation, he dove under, grabbed one of her feet, and pulled her down with him. They tussled playfully before resurfacing, their bodies tight to each other.

�This would be a lot more fun without bathing suits,� she said.

�I�m game if you are. As long as you don�t mind giving the Secret Service a show.�

�Tempting, but I�ll pass.�

They kissed with the passion of lovers who truly enjoyed each other�s company, then leaned their foreheads against each other.

Nearly out of breath, she whispered, �Maybe we should put on a show.�

�If you insist.�

As he moved to kiss her again, Martha appeared poolside. �Mr. Barrington, Miss Reyes, dinner is almost ready. Would you like it inside or out here?�

�Here?� Stone said to Monica.

�Please.�

�Outside,� he told Martha.

�Very good.� She retreated into the house.

Monica sighed. �It looks like we don�t have any time for��

Stone slipped a hand under the back side of her bikini bottom. �Are you sure about that?�

As if it took every ounce of strength, she pushed him away and swam for the stairs.

They dined on a meal of chicken mole and grilled peppers paired with a bottle of Marian�s Vineyard Old Vine Zinfandel from California.

When they finished, Martha asked if they would like dessert.

�I don�t think I could eat another bite,� Monica said. �I haven�t had mole that good in years. It was just like my abuela�s.�

Martha smiled in pleasure.

�I agree with Monica,� Stone said. �Though I can�t comment on her grandmother�s version.�

Martha�s grin doubled. �May I take your plates?�

�Please.�

As she began gathering the dishes, a phone buzzed on one of the deck chairs.

�That�s me,� Monica said. She retrieved her phone and looked at the screen. �It�s Tristan Williams.� She accepted the call. �Hello?... Yes, this is she... Hi, Tristan. Thank you for calling me back.� She turned on the speaker and retook her seat.

The voice that came out of the phone was male and guarded. �What can I help you with?�

�I was given your number by someone who thought you could help me.�

�Who�s that?�

�Joshua Paskota.�

Silence on the other end, then, �He�s dead.�

�I�m aware. He was helping me with an investigation.�

�What kind of investigation?�

Monica eyed Stone before she responded, �I work for an insurance company, and am looking into several potential art thefts.�

They heard movement on the line and then three beeps.

�He hung up,� Monica said.

�Try him again.�

She did, but instead of ringing, she was sent straight to voicemail.

After the beep, she said, �This is Monica Reyes again. Please call me back. I really need to talk to you.� She hung up. �He must have turned off his phone. If he doesn�t return my call...�

�Wait here.� Stone went into the house and retrieved his phone. After retaking his seat, he said, �What�s Tristan�s number?�

Monica brought Tristan�s info up on her phone.

Stone called his friend Bob Cantor. Bob was a former NYPD officer who�d made a lucrative post-force career as a security technology expert and private investigator.

�Hello?�

�Bob, it�s Stone.�

�Hi, Stone. Long time no talk.�

�Sorry about that. I�ve been a little busy lately.�

�I heard about the mess with the Russians. Glad you came out of it okay.�

�You and me both. Listen, I need your help with a phone number. I don�t know if it�s a cell or a landline, but I�d like to know where it�s located.�

�Sure. Give it to me.�

Stone did so.

�L.A. area code,� Bob said. �Of course, that doesn�t mean that�s where he is.�

�Is this something you can look into right away?�

�I was just about to settle in with the new season of Only Murders in the Building, but that can wait.�

�I appreciate it. How long do you think this will take?�

�Depends. Could be a few minutes, could be a few hours. Also, if it�s a burner, chances are whoever you�re trying to find will have already dumped it.�

�Do what you can, Bob, and call me when you have something. Don�t worry about the time.�

�Consider me on the job.�

Stone hung up and lifted the wine bottle. �Another glass?�

�How about a shower and change of clothes first. It�s getting a little chilly.�

They relocated to the guest suite, where they did more than merely soap each other�s backs.

After toweling off, Stone checked his phone. He had a missed call and a text from Bob, the latter reading: Call me.

Stone did so.

�The number is for a cell phone that belongs to someone named Tristan Williams,� Bob said. �I have an address for him in Echo Park. That�s near downtown, next to Dodger Stadium.�

�Were you able to get a location on the actual phone?�

�The most recent location I could get was from an hour ago, on Melrose Avenue in the Fairfax District.�

Stone knew the area. It was near West Hollywood and was a fifteen-minute drive from the Arrington, depending on traffic.

�I�ll text his home address and where I got the hit,� Bob said. �The latter won�t be exact, mind you, but should be close.�

�Thanks, Bob. Please send an invoice to Joan.�

�I already have.�

Stone hung up and told Monica what he�d learned.

�Well, I guess I know where I�m heading next,� she said.

�When would you leave?�

�Too late to get a plane out tonight, so tomorrow.� She opened her phone and began scrolling for flights.

�May I make a suggestion?�

�Sure.�

�I need to be in Los Angeles in a few days, but I can just as easily leave tomorrow. Why don�t you fly with me?�

�You have a plane?�

�I do.�

�It�s not one of those little prop planes, is it? If so, thank you very much for the offer, but I�m afraid I�ll have to pass.�

�You have an issue with prop planes?�

�My first and last experience in one involved a thunderstorm and a very hard landing.�

�That sounds more like your pilot was unprepared than a problem with the plane itself.�

�True. The pilot was my boyfriend when we took off and my ex the moment my feet were back on the ground.�

�Then I understand your reluctance, but to ease your mind, my plane is a Gulfstream G-500 jet.�

She crossed her arms and reappraised him. �Have I told you how handy you are to have around?�

They deplaned in Van Nuys, and Dean transferred their luggage to a waiting Porsche Cayenne SUV. The Arrington had a fleet of them for VIP guest use.

�Good to see you again, Mr. Barrington,� the driver said as Stone and Monica climbed in. �Straight to the Arrington?�

�Please.�

Monica was in for yet another surprise when, instead of being dropped off at the front of the hotel, the Porsche stopped at the entrance to a large house behind the main building.

�What is this?� she asked.

�My L.A. home,� Stone said.

�Your home is in the middle of a hotel?�

�This property was inherited by my late wife when her first husband, Vance Calder, died.�

�The actor?�

�The very same. When Arrington passed, Peter and I decided to turn the land into a hotel, with a home built specifically for me.�

�You own the Arrington.�

�Along with Peter and a company run by my friend Mike Freeman.�

Before Stone could grab the door handle, it swung open from the inside.

Dino smiled out at them. �I thought I heard voices.�

Monica looked at Stone. �Your butler?�

�Fortunately, no. This is my friend Dino Bacchetti. Dino, this is Monica Reyes. Dino would make a lousy butler.�

�I concur,� Dino said.

�Dino Bacchetti?� Monica asked. �Why do I know that name?�

�Probably because he�s the New York City commissioner of police.�

�That right! I�ve seen you on the news. You look better in person.�

�Thank you, I think.�

Stone put a hand to the side of his mouth and stage-whispered, �We try not to compliment him too much. Goes straight to his head.�

�Are you coming in or not?� Dino asked.

�I thought you weren�t arriving until the day before the board meeting,� Stone said, walking in and proceeding into the living room.

�You can thank the king of Sweden,� Dino said.

�I don�t actually know the king of Sweden.�

�Neither do I. He was supposed to visit the city this week. Tour around, see a few shows, shake hands with the mayor, things like that. There was talk that Holly might show up, too, until that nonsense with North Korea. But the king caught the flu and canceled his plans. Suddenly, my calendar was free.�

�His misfortune was our gain.�

�Something like that.�

Stone said, �Is Viv here, too?�

�Not yet. She�s in Luxembourg, or Brussels. I can�t keep her schedule straight. She�s flies in late tonight.� He moved to the bar. �Can I get either of you a drink?�

�Thanks, but nothing for me,� Monica said. �I have somewhere I need to go.�

�Leaving already?� Stone said.

�I want to go by Tristan Williams�s place and see if he�s home. Oh, wait. I still need a car. I suppose the hotel can help with that?�

�I�ll arrange for you to use one of the hotel�s vehicles.�

�That would be wonderful. Thank you. I�d like to freshen up first. Which way is our room?�

�Follow me.�

He led her to the master suite. �Your bathroom is on that side.� He pointed at the door.

�My bathroom?�

�Mine is over there,� he said, pointing at the door on the opposite wall.

�Two bathrooms. How convenient.�

�I think so.�

He left her to do what she needed and returned to Dino, who handed him a glass of Knob Creek. Dino held up his own drink. �Welcome to Los Angeles.�

�Glad to be here.�

Dino nodded toward the back of the house where the master suite was located. �I distinctly remember you saying something about spending time with Holly.�

�I did. Twelve hours, give or take.�

�The North Korea thing?�

�The North Korea thing.�

�I applaud your speed at finding a replacement.�

�Monica�s not a replacement. We happened to hit it off.�

�Conveniently, right after your previous arrangement fell apart.�

�Not right after. There was a day and a half in between.�

�That makes it all better.�

�That reminds me.�

�What reminds you?�

Stone ignored him and went to the house phone. He was just finishing up his call to arrange a car for Monica when she reentered the living room.

�There should be a golf cart out front,� Stone said.

�I think I�ll need something more robust than that to get to Echo Park.�

�The sass is strong with this one,� Dino said. �I like her.�

�If you two are through,� Stone said. �The golf cart will take you to where a vehicle better suited for your needs will be waiting.�

She smiled and gave him a quick kiss. �I appreciate it.�

�How long will you be gone?�

�Not sure, but I should be back in time for dinner. I hope you don�t get too bored without me.�

�I�ll soldier on.�

�And I�ll make sure he doesn�t get into too much trouble,� Dino said.

�Has that worked in the past?� she asked.

�Not as often as I would hope.�

�Good luck, then. Work calls, so I�m off.� She and Stone kissed again, and she headed outside.

�What kind of business is she in?� Dino asked.

�Insurance investigator, though currently unemployed.�

�I feel like there�s a critical piece of information missing.�

�Perceptive as ever.�

Monica found Tristan Williams�s place off Echo Park Avenue, on the eastern slope of a narrow valley. The house itself sat at the midpoint of the slope, accessed by a steep set of concrete stairs.

When her first knock went unanswered, she thought no one was home, but when she knocked again, she heard movement inside.

The guy who opened the door was either half asleep or high or both. His eyes drooped, and his long, disheveled hair stuck out from his head like a halo. He stared at her without saying anything.

�I�m looking for Tristan Williams,� Monica said.

�Who?�

�Tristan Williams. I was told he lives here.�

His eyes scrunched together momentarily, then he nodded. �Right. Tristan. Yeah, he lives here.�

�Is he home?�

�No idea.� He turned around and yelled Tristan�s name. When there was no response, he shrugged. �He must be out.�

�Is he at work?�

�Might be.�

�Do you know where that is?�

�Not a clue.�

�Do you know the name of the company he works for?�

�Sorry, this is my girlfriend�s place. She and Tristan are roommates.�

�Can I talk to her?�

�She�s not here, either.�

�I see. Okay, then, sorry to have bothered you.�

�It�s cool.� He shut the door.

Monica considered leaving a note, but Tristan had already made it clear he wasn�t interested in talking to her. Seeing him face-to-face might be the only chance she had to find out what he knew.

She decided to check out the area where Stone�s contact said Tristan�s phone had last pinged. It took her forty minutes to drive to Melrose Avenue and another ten to find an open parking space.

The block was mostly filled with clothing shops. She ducked into each and asked if Tristan Williams worked there, but no one knew him.

She headed down Melrose, extending her search. A few blocks from where she started, she stopped and stared. Across the street was the Los Angeles location for Duchamp Galleries. That seemed too much of a coincidence to be mere chance. She crossed over and went inside.

A handful of customers browsed the artwork, while three gallery employees hovered nearby. At the back was a desk where a fourth employee sat, leafing through a magazine. There were no customers near him.

He looked up as she approached. He was impeccably dressed and appeared to be in his late twenties. His gaze seemed to be assessing her, like he was trying to determine if she could afford to shop there.

�Good afternoon. How may I help you?�

�I�m looking for someone.�

�Oh?� he said, his tone turning dismissive.

�Do you have someone who works here named Tristan Williams?�

He blinked. �I�m Tristan.�

She smiled and held out her hand. �I can�t believe I found you. I�m Monica.�

He hesitated before taking her hand.

�We talked yesterday.� She laid her business card on the desk.

He looked at her, seemingly having no idea what she was talking about. Then he picked up the card, sucked in a surprised breath, and whispered, �You can�t be here.�

�I just need a few minutes of your time.�

�I have nothing to say to you.�

�Please. It�s important.�

He held her card out to her. �I�m sorry. Take this and leave.�

�What time do you get off work?� she asked, not taking the card.

�It doesn�t matter. I told you I�m not talking to you.�

�I�ll be at the bar at the Hollywood Roosevelt Hotel from eight until ten. I�d appreciate it if you could join me.�

�Not going to happen.�

�I understand, but if you change your mind, remember the Roosevelt, eight until ten.� Monica turned and walked out, leaving her business card behind.

After lunch, Stone and Dino met with Ben in his office to go over the agenda for the board meeting, so it was nearing four p.m. by the time they returned to the Arrington.

They found Monica in Stone�s private pool, floating on a raft.

She shaded her eyes and smiled. �I was wondering when you were coming back.�

�We would have returned sooner if I�d known you were waiting. Can I interest anyone in a vodka gimlet?� Stone had made a pitcher before leaving for the studio that should be perfectly chilled by now.

�That sounds divine,� Monica said.

�What she said,� Dino replied.

�Coming right up.�

By the time Stone made it back with the drinks, Monica had left her raft and was sitting at the nearby umbrella-shaded table with Dino.

�Any luck with Tristan?� Stone asked.

�He wasn�t home, so I went to the last place your friend said his phone had pinged. You�re never going to believe where I found him.�

�In an art gallery?�

She looked at him, surprised. �How did you know?�

�It seemed a logical leap.�

�I�ll have to give you that one.� Her disappointment turned into a devilish sneer. �But I bet you can�t guess the name of the gallery.�

�Duchamp Gallery.� It was the first gallery name that came to mind, only because it was the last one he�d visited.

She crossed her arms. �I�m never playing this game with you again.�

�You mean I�m right?�

�You are, but don�t you dare try to rub it in.�

Dino looked back and forth between them. �I feel like I�m missing a crucial piece of information.�

�Monica and I met at the Duchamp Gallery in Santa Fe. If memory serves, she was there to meet a contact for her investigation.�

�That�s correct,� she said.

�The art theft ring you were telling me about?� Dino said.

Monica nodded.

�What happened to your contact there?� Dino asked.

�Remember that fatal car crash I asked you to look into?� Stone said.

�Yeah.�

�That�s what happened to him.�

�Now I�m starting to get it.�

�What did they say when you talked to them?� Monica asked.

�That they didn�t suspect foul play. But maybe I should suggest they take a closer look.�

�Not a bad idea,� Stone said.

�Did he work at the Santa Fe gallery?�

�No idea,� Monica said. �He only said he�d contact me at the opening night of the exhibit. I assumed he would have been just another guest, but given where Tristan works, maybe I was wrong.�

�I�ll check that, too,� Dino said.

�What happened when you found Tristan?� Stone asked.

�As soon as he realized who I was, he told me to leave.�

�Not happy to see you, no doubt.�

�More like terrified, I think. It was like he couldn�t get me out the door fast enough. I did try to make an alternative meetup.� She explained about telling Tristan she would wait for him at the Hollywood Roosevelt Hotel that evening.

�Did he agree?�

�No, but I made sure he knew I�d be there, if he changes his mind. Hopefully, he�ll show.�

�Would you mind some company?�

�He might get scared off if I�m not alone.�

�I can sit nearby. He�ll never know we�re together.�

She considered it for a moment, then nodded. �Actually, that�s a great idea.�

�Dino, you�ve never been to the Roosevelt, have you?�

�I haven�t.�

�You want to join us?�

�Let me check my social calendar.� He took a sip of his gimlet. �You�re in luck. My evening is free.�

�It�s settled, then.�

�Thank you both,� Monica said. She took a sip of her gimlet. �That was my afternoon. What kind of trouble did you two get up to while I was away?�

�We had lunch with our sons, at Centurion Pictures.�

�I bet she�d be interested in what Billy told us,� Dino said.

�Billy who?� Monica asked.

�Billy Barnett, Peter�s producer,� Stone said. �He joined us for lunch, too.�

�And what did he tell you?�

�He recently purchased a painting by my mother. It was to be delivered yesterday, but the delivery van was intercepted en route, and the painting stolen.�

�That�s horrible. But that�s not the MO of the people I�ve been investigating.�

�I haven�t told you the pertinent part yet.�

�Please, go on.�

�The thieves redirected the van onto a road that was blocked off by a wall of fire.�

�Fire?� That had her attention.

�When the van stopped, the robbers sprayed them with a knockout gas, took the painting, and left. The fire had begun to spread to the surrounding brush by the time Billy found them. If the fire department hadn�t reacted so quickly, dozens of homes could have been destroyed.�

�You said Billy Barnett is the owner of the painting?�

�Correct.�

She thought for a few moments. �I don�t think he�s insured by Vitale.�

�You know all Vitale�s customers?� Dino asked.

�The ones with expensive art pieces, I do. I�ll ask around and see what I can find out. Thanks for the tip.�

The moment Tristan stepped into the bar�s entrance, he almost turned around and left. The only thing that stopped him was that Monica had already spotted him and was waving him over to her table.

He swore under his breath and joined her.

�Thank you for coming. Please, have a seat.�

�I... I can only give you five minutes. That�s it.�

�I�ll take it.�

He reluctantly sat.

�Something to drink?� she asked. �My treat?�

�Um, thank you. Wine.�

�Any preference?�

He shook his head.

She asked the waiter to bring him a glass of chardonnay.

�How long have you worked at Duchamp Gallery?�

�Why is that important?�

�It isn�t. I�m just asking.�

�Oh. Sorry. Uh, almost two years.�

�Do you enjoy it?�

�It�s okay, I guess. I like meeting the artists and talking to them about their work.�

�What about your job don�t you like?�

Tristan was saved from answering by the return of the waiter with his wine. �Thanks,� he said, then gulped down half in one go.

�Are you all right?� Monica asked.

�I�m fine. Why?�

She looked pointedly at his glass.

�I... I was thirsty.�

She nodded as if that was an acceptable answer, then her expression softened. �I should have said this first. I�m sorry for your loss.�

�My loss?�

�Joshua Paskota. I assume he was your friend.�

�He was.�

�I was supposed to talk to him in Santa Fe, but I didn�t get the chance before the accident.�

Tristan huffed. �Accident. Right.�

�You know something about it?�

He hadn�t realized he�d said that out loud. He shook his head. �No, nothing.�

�You know, he gave me your number because he thought you could help me.�

�He actually told you that?�

She pulled a piece of paper out of her purse and showed it to him. It was a note that included Tristan�s name and number. Tristan recognized Joshua�s handwriting.

�When you called me, you said this was about an art theft?�

�Several actually. I believe they are being carried out by the same group. Anything you may know would be a great help.�

He downed the rest of his wine and glanced toward the bar�s entrance to gather his thoughts.

At first, he didn�t notice the man sitting on a chair outside the bar, but then the man shifted his position, drawing Tristan�s attention.

It was Phillip.

�Why don�t you start at the beginning?� Monica said. �When was the first time��

Tristan shot to his feet. �I�m sorry. I shouldn�t have come.�

He scanned for an alternate way out, but there was none. Head down, he walked briskly to the exit, then hurried out of the hotel.

As soon as he was outside, he broke into a run and didn�t glance back until he reached his car.

But before he could open the door, Phillip clamped down on his shoulder and whirled him around. Tristan would have opened his mouth to scream, but Phillip�s fist smashed into his face before a sound could leave his lips.

Once again attired as a sheriff�s officer, Benji pounded on the door to the house containing their newest target. �Anyone home?�

Nothing happened.

�I think they�re gone,� Devin said. He was in a uniform, too.

�What about the light?�

A light that had been shining in a second-story window had suddenly gone out twenty minutes earlier.

�Probably on a timer.�

Benji frowned, unsure.

This was the problem with doing a rush job: no time to prep. By the time they�d arrived on-site yesterday, it had been one a.m. and the house had been dark. So they were winging it instead of taking their usual few days to discover any patterns.

Benji had even called Simon that morning to beg for extra time, but his brother had insisted, �You will get it tonight and come back. There�s another job I need you for.� He hung up without letting Benji say anything else.

The house sat on ten acres of scattered groves of ponderosa pines and meadows of long brown grass. From the front stoop, Benji could see the glow of flames in the meadow from the fire Sticks had set off. It seemed larger than it should have been at this point, and he was getting nervous they might not have as much time as planned.

�Screw it,� Benji said as he stepped aside. �Open it.�

Devin swung a handheld battering ram into the door. The second the door swung open, the shrill of an alarm filled the air. It didn�t matter. By the time anyone showed up they�d be gone, and the house would be burning.

�I got this floor, you take upstairs,� Benji said.

He made a mad dash through the ground floor, searching for the Matilda Stone painting that was supposed to be there. It was the second Stone in a row they were snatching, which seemed kind of odd. But who was Benji to question his brother�s whims?

He found the painting in the library and was about to let Devin know over their walkie app when Devin�s voice came over his earbud. �We have a problem.�

�What kind of problem?�

�Who the fuck are you?� The voice that came over the radio was not Devin�s.

Someone else was in the house.

�Shit,� Benji hissed.

He retrieved his pistol and ran up to the second level.

Devin was standing in the doorway to the master bedroom, while a few feet inside stood a man in his fifties or sixties. He was tall and wore only a pair of red-and-black-checked boxers, which left his significant paunch on full display.

�I said, who the fuck are you?� he slurred. His hair was disheveled, and he was weaving slightly.

�We�re with the sheriff�s department,� Devin said. �There�s a fire heading toward your house. We�re here to evacuate you.�

�Fire? Nobody told me about any fire.�

He started walking toward a window and within two steps tripped over his own feet. When he tried to right himself, he ended up backpedaling into a dresser and toppling onto the floor.

He lay there, unmoving.

�Is he dead?� Devin asked.

�I hope not,� Benji said. No one had suffered more than a few scrapes and bruises in connection with any of their previous heists. �Check him.�

Devin knelt next to the body, put a hand on the man�s neck, then gave Benji a thumbs-up. �Still alive.�

Benji grimaced. While that was a good sign, they still had a problem. �Help me get him downstairs.�

�We�re taking him with us?�

�We can�t leave him here.�

�Why not?�

�The fire?�

Devin�s eyes widened. �Oh, shit, right. The fire.�

They propped him up between them and moved him into the hallway.

�Jeez, he�s even heavier than he looks,� Devin complained.

�Just keep moving.�

They had to switch tactics at the stairs, Devin taking the guy�s feet and going down first, Benji grabbing him under the arms.

They had just reached the ground floor and laid the guy on the carpet, so they could readjust, when Sticks threw the front door open and hurried in.

�What�s the holdup? Fire�s almost here.�

Benji twisted around. �What do you mean it�s almost here?�

�A fire�s gonna do what a fire�s gonna do.� Sticks noticed the unconscious man. �Who�s he?�

�Don�t worry about him,� Benji said. �Worry about getting your devices set up in here.�

�I�m not sure we�re gonna need them.�

�We�re not taking any chances.�

Sticks glanced at the open front door, then grimaced. �Fine.�

�Devin, with me,� Benji said.

Benji and Devin collected the painting, then returned to the foyer to find Sticks standing exactly where he�d been before.

�I told you to get everything set,� Benji said.

�I did.�

Benji nodded at the man on the floor. �Then help Devin carry him to the car.�

�No way. You�re not paying me to carry bodies.�

�He�s not dead.�

�I don�t care.�

�Fine. Then take this.� He held out the Matilda Stone.

�You don�t pay me to��

�Just take it, dammit!� Benji shoved the painting into Sticks�s chest.

Sticks grumbled but took it and headed outside.

Benji and Devin picked up the man and exited the house.

�Oh, my God!� Devin said, his gaze locked on the meadow behind the home.

Benji looked over his shoulder and sucked in a breath. The blaze couldn�t have been more than twenty yards behind the house and moving fast in their direction.

�Move it,� Benji said.

They piled into their fake sheriff�s car, Devin in back with their extra passenger, and Benji sped away as fast as possible.

Half a mile later, they left the guy from the house next to several dumpsters behind a closed restaurant, then made a beeline for the freeway, to put as many miles between them and the scene of the crime as possible.

It wasn�t until they�d been driving for a couple of hours that Benji realized he�d forgotten to call 911 to report the fire.

�Wake up.�

Dalton parted his eyelids, then slammed them closed again. Someone had turned the light on in his room. Confused, he rolled onto his back and eased his eyes open.

�Simon? What the hell?�

�Get dressed. We have somewhere to go.�

Dalton sat up. �How did you get in here?� While he was staying at the same hotel as Simon, he had not given the art dealer a key to his room.

�Quit dawdling and get up.�

Still half asleep, Dalton swung his legs off the bed, grabbed his phone off the nightstand, and checked the time. It was barely five a.m. �Where are we going at this time in the morning?�

�To find out how much your friend Monica Reyes knows.�

�Monica? What are you talking about?�

Simon headed for the door. �I�ll be in the lobby. If you�re not there in ten minutes, I�ll leave without you.�

Dalton threw on some clothes and rushed into the lobby with two minutes to spare.

He had assumed Simon had come with his driver, but it was Simon himself who got behind the wheel.

�Can you tell me where we�re going?� Dalton asked as they drove over the hill into the San Fernando Valley.

�You�ll see soon enough.�

Simon was equally unhelpful when Dalton asked what he�d meant about Monica, and he finally gave up trying to get anything out of him.

Thirty minutes later, they were in the northeast end of the San Fernando Valley, traveling on a windy road into the foothills of the San Gabriel Mountains. The houses along the road were far apart from each other, often out of sight of their neighbors.

Dalton was starting to think they were heading to the top of the mountain when Simon pulled into a driveway and stopped. Planted in the front yard was a for sale sign that looked as if it had been there for years, which made sense, given that the house appeared just as neglected.

�What are we doing here?�

�Getting our answers.�

Simon climbed out. Dalton hesitated a moment, then did the same.

The front door of the house swung open before they reached it, Phillip on the other side.

�Is he ready?� Simon asked.

Phillip nodded. �Primed and waiting.�

�Lead on.�

They passed through a dingy living room into a dark hallway, the whole place stinking of mold and rot, then stopped at a closed door at the very end.

�In here,� Phillip said.

He opened the door and stood to the side so that Simon and Dalton could enter first.

The space was lit by a single, bright light focused on a man tied to a chair in the middle of the room. He was slouched forward, his face hidden. The only sign of life was the rise and fall of his torso as he breathed.

Simon walked over, grabbed the man�s hair, and shoved him into a sitting position. The man�s face was bloodied and bruised, but there was something familiar about him to Dalton.

He was still trying to figure it out when Simon slapped the man�s face, and the man�s eyes opened.

Simon grinned. �Hello, Tristan.�

Realization hit Dalton. �That�s the guy from your gallery.�

�The very same,� Simon said. �Thank you for pointing him out to us.�

Dalton felt his throat constrict. Whatever he�d thought joining an art theft ring would involve, it hadn�t been something like this.

�You�re looking a little peaked,� Simon said. �Are you feeling all right?�

�I... it�s just... can�t you just talk to him.�

�I am going to talk to him.�

�I mean without...� He waved a hand at Tristan.

�Does a little violence make you feel uneasy?�

�I...�

�Sometimes a heavy hand is needed. You�re a partner now, remember? If you can�t take it, we can cancel our agreement and go back to a per job fee.�

Dalton almost said yes, but the thought of giving up all that cash was enough to stop him. �No. I was a little surprised, that�s all. It�s my first time. Sorry.�

�May I continue?�

�Of course. Sorry.�

Simon turned back to Tristan. �I understand you�ve been giving away my secrets.�

�No. I didn�t... say anything.� He spoke as if he had to push each word out.

�Phillip saw you with the woman.�

�I only went there... to tell her I didn�t... know anything... because... because I don�t.�

Tristan�s head started to droop. Simon grabbed his ear and pulled it back up, causing the kid to yelp in pain.

�I�m telling the truth. I didn�t... I didn�t... I��

His eyes fluttered and his whole body fell forward, the rope the only thing keeping him from tumbling to the floor.

�Tristan,� Simon said.

When he didn�t respond, Simon pushed him up so that he flopped against the back of the chair.

�Tristan.� Simon slapped his face. �Tristan.� He did it again, but Tristan remained unconscious. Simon looked at Phillip, who stood near the door. �Did he tell you anything of use?�

�He gave me the same story he gave you.�

�Do you believe him?�

�He wasn�t with her very long, so he couldn�t have said much.�

�That�s not what I asked you.�

Phillip shrugged. �Yeah, I believe.�

�I do, too.� Simon stood.

�What are you going to do with him?� Dalton asked.

�First off, he�s fired,� Simon said.

Phillip snorted.

�You�re going to let him go, though, right?� Dalton asked.

Simon looked at him with pity. �Do you think that would be a good idea?�

Dalton tried to swallow, but his mouth was too dry. �Probably not.�

�Then you have your answer.� He glanced at Phillip. �It�s time to deal with that other matter.�

�Understood.�

�What other matter?� Dalton asked.

Phillip�s pistol smacked into the back of Dalton�s head, dropping him to the floor.

He groaned as someone toed his ribs.

�Do you think you�re the only dirty insurance executive out there?� Simon asked. �Let me answer that for you. You are not. The only thing you are is a nuisance. And I�m afraid I can�t abide nuisances.�

A boot slammed into Dalton�s head.

As darkness began to close in, Dalton heard Phillip say, �The woman�s still going to be a problem.�

�Not for long,� Simon replied.

�You have a plan?�

�I do. One that our two friends here can help with.�

Whatever that plan was, Dalton didn�t remain conscious long enough to hear it.

Monica woke Stone in the most delicious way, after which he returned the favor. One thing led to another and by the time they made it downstairs, it was nearly ten a.m.

They found Dino poolside, sipping on a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice, and his wife, Viv, lying on a nearby lounge, clad in a black bikini.

When Dino saw them, he looked at his watch. �Viv, you owe me a twenty.� To Stone and Monica, he stage-whispered, �I said you wouldn�t be down until ten. She said nine.�

�Put it on my tab,� Viv said.

�Viv, let me introduce you to Monica Reyes,� Stone said. �Monica, this is Dino�s wife, Vivian Bacchetti.�

�A pleasure to meet you,� Viv said. �And please call me Viv. Dino tells me you�ve been keeping Stone in line.�

�It�s a burden, but someone has to do it,� Monica said.

Viv grinned. �We�re going to get along just fine.�

�I think we�re in trouble,� Dino said to Stone.

�You�re just now figuring that out?� Stone said.

�I blame jet lag.�

To Viv, Stone said, �When did you get in?�

�Around three a.m.�

�You must be exhausted,� Monica said.

�I slept most of the flight, so I�m not too tired yet.�

�Have you two eaten?� Stone asked.

�Two hours ago,� Dino said.

�Then I guess it�s just you and me,� Stone said to Monica. �What would you like?�

�What are my choices?�

�Room service can whip up pretty much anything you might want.�

�I keep forgetting we�re in the middle of a hotel.�

�Think of it as a fancy resort,� Dino said.

�It is a fancy resort.�

�See? You�ve already adapted.�

�Breakfast?� Stone reminded her.

�Right. Eggs Benedict?�

�One of my favorites. Anything else?�

�Some strawberries, if they have any.�

�Done.�

Stone called in their order, and they joined Dino at the table.

Monica checked her phone, then frowned and set it down.

�Still no word?� Stone asked.

�No.� She had sent Tristan several texts since the premature end to their meeting the previous evening, but he had yet to respond. �The gallery opens at eleven. I�ll call him there.�

�Tell him you�re planning on coming by again. I have a feeling he�ll agree to an alternate location to keep you from showing up.�

�That�s devious. I like it.�

�Unfortunately, in my line of work not all the people I come in contact with are on the up-and-up.�

�I thought you�d have a better clientele than that.�

�Not my clients. More the people with whom my clients have issues.�

�Ah, so you are a bastion of truth and justice.�

�I try my best.�

To Monica, Dino said, �It�s not my nature to poke my nose in something without being invited��

�Since when?� Stone and Viv said in unison.

Ignoring them, Dino continued where he left off. �But remember, Stone is a lawyer, which makes him a professional liar.�

�Don�t listen to him,� Stone said. �He�s law enforcement and making lawyers out as less than truthful is a stereotype his ilk likes to perpetuate.�

�Says the former police detective, who I recall on several occasions saying something similar.�

�The key word there is former.�

�Careful, Monica,� Viv said. �If you wind them up too much, they�ll be like this all day.�

Breakfast soon arrived. Monica checked her phone several more times as she ate, but still no word from Tristan. By the time she and Stone finished their meals, it was twenty to eleven.

�Someone has to be at the gallery by now, don�t you think?� she said.

�Seems reasonable,� Stone said.

She made the call.

After two rings, a female voice answered, �Duchamp Gallery, Los Angeles. How may I help you?�

�I�m looking for Tristan Williams.�

For a moment, Monica thought they�d been disconnected, then the woman said, �I�m sorry. Tristan Williams doesn�t work here any longer.�

�I saw him there yesterday. He didn�t mention anything about leaving.�

�Perhaps I could assist you?�

�Did he get a new job or give any reason why he left?�

�I don�t know any more details than what I�ve already told you, and even if I did, I wouldn�t give them out to someone over the phone.�

�If I came down there, would you be able to��

�Ma�am, as I�m sure you�re aware, all employment information is a matter of personal privacy. Is there something else I can help you with?�

�No. Thank you for your time.�

�Have a good day,� the woman said and hung up.

Monica stared at her phone, brow furrowed.

�I take it from what you were saying that Tristan is no longer an employee of the gallery?� Stone said.

�That�s what she said,� Monica said.

�Do you know if he quit or was fired?� Viv asked.

�She didn�t give a reason,� Monica said. �But last night, when I asked how long he�d worked there, he didn�t act like he�d lost his job.�

�What about the man who chased him last night?� Stone said. �Maybe he caught Tristan and did a number on him.�

�Do you think so?� Monica asked, concerned.

�I have no idea, but it�s another possibility. Though I don�t know why he�d quit or be fired because of that.�

�Could be as simple as he was skimming from the register and they finally found out.�

�For the most part, transactions at galleries would either be by credit card, bank transfer, or check.�

�Please tell me you�ve heard of credit-card skimmers.�

�Right. I hadn�t thought of that.�

�I can think of one other reason,� Stone said. �What if he told someone about his conversation with you, and they weren�t happy.�

�But why fire him for that? He didn�t tell me anything.�

�Perhaps they thought he did.�

�However he lost his job, he probably hasn�t responded because he�s not in the mood to talk to anyone,� Viv said.

�How about this?� Stone said. �Let�s give him a few more hours. If he hasn�t gotten back to you by then, you and I will drive out to his house.�

�That�s a great idea,� Monica said, her tension easing. �Thank you.�

�In the meantime, how about we take a drive along the beach? It�ll take your mind off all this.�

�I�d love that.�

�Viv, Dino, you are welcome to join us. I was thinking we could have lunch in Malibu.�

�Sounds great to me,� Dino said. �But I defer to my beautiful bride.�

�We�d be delighted.�

Stone dropped off Monica at the Arrington, then he, Dino, and Viv continued to Strategic Services� L.A. offices.

The company�s West Coast presence had expanded considerably over the last few years. To accommodate this, they had moved into a new, larger location. This was the first time Stone was visiting it.

While not as grand as Strategic Services� main headquarters in New York, the new three-story facility in Koreatown did take up an entire block.

Mike met them in the lobby. After shaking Stone�s and Dino�s hands, he raised an eyebrow and scowled at Viv. �If I�m not mistaken, you�re supposed to be taking a few days off.�

�I am.�

�Your presence says otherwise.�

�Pretend like you don�t see me.�

�A day off means not coming in.�

�When has that ever stopped me?� She grinned, then slipped an arm into Dino�s and led him to the stairs.

Mike shook his head. �I�d ban her from all our facilities when she�s off, but I doubt that would work.�

�What do you do on your days off?� Stone asked.

�Days off? What�s that?�

They went to a conference room on the third floor that had windows overlooking the rear third of the building, the space open from the ground to the ceiling.

�Our training area,� Mike explained.

There were ropes attached to the rafters for climbing, exercise equipment, and a basketball court.

�First floor has locker rooms and showers. It�s also where our equipment and firearm storage are located. We�ve taken a page out of your playbook and have a shooting range in the basement.�

�More than one lane, though, I�m guessing.�

�Twelve.�

�Impressive.�

�I�m very happy with how this place has turned out.�

The conference room door opened again, and Herb walked in followed by Eliza Dinh, Cory Aldridge, and Ellen Herlin, the experts who had helped him with the Santa Fe assessment.

Greetings were exchanged and then they sat.

�I take it you�ve made a determination on the site,� Stone said.

�There are a few small issues that still need to be answered, but otherwise, we�ve compiled what I believe to be a comprehensive assessment.�

�How about we start with your determination?� Stone said. �We can go over the details after.�

�You�re taking all the fun out of it. But okay. My recommendation is to authorize me to finalize the deal immediately, then sign it as soon as it�s ready.�

Stone turned to the experts. �You all concur?�

�Absolutely,� Eliza said.

The other two nodded.

Fifteen minutes earlier, Simon paced the gallery�s office, waiting for a call from Phillip.

When his cell finally rang, he snatched it up and said, �Is it set?�

�Mr. Duchamp?� said a voice that did not belong to Phillip.

�Who is this?�

�Nico Savage.�

�My apologies, Mr. Savage. I thought you were someone else.�

�Mr. Petry would like an update.�

�You can tell him the second Matilda Stone will be in my possession within the hour.�

�And the third?�

�By Friday, as promised,� Simon said, more confident than he felt.

Simon heard muffled voices on the other end, then Savage came back on and said, �Mr. Petry asked me to express his appreciation for your efforts.�

�Pleasing my clients is always a priority. Now, if there�s nothing else, I have a rather busy afternoon.�

�We understand you�re in Los Angeles.�

�Well, um, yes.� Simon hadn�t told them that, but it wasn�t like his presence in the city was a secret.

�So, today�s delivery will be happening in L.A.�

�It will.�

�Excellent. Mr. Petry and I arrived a few hours ago and would like to be there when the painting arrives.�

�Well... that... um... I don�t think��

�Didn�t you just say pleasing your clients is a priority?�

�Yes, of course, but��

�Mr. Petry insists we be there.�

�That was never part of our agreement.�

�It is now.�

�You can�t simply change the terms on the fly.�

�One moment.�

More muffled voices, then Nico said to Simon, �Mr. Petry says that he understands the inconvenience, but if you refuse, the deal is off, and he expects our deposit to be returned immediately.�

Simon wasn�t about to refund a half million dollars even if Petry wanted to call the deal off.

But before he could say anything, Nico continued, �And Mr. Petry wants to make sure you understand that if you don�t refund the money, he will honor you with a lovely wreath at your funeral.�

Simon had resources, but he had no doubt Petry had even more. �There�s no need for threats. I would be happy to have you both join me for the delivery.�

�I thought you might. Where shall we meet you?�

�I have a gallery in town.�

�On Melrose. Coincidentally, we�re parked in front. Would it be all right if we come in now?�

�No,� Simon blurted out. �I mean, not through the front. There�s a parking lot in back. Pull in there and I�ll meet you at the rear door.�

As soon as they hung up, Simon called Phillip. �Well?�

�I don�t think we need to worry about the Monica Reyes problem anymore.�

�When can you get back here?�

�An hour, hour and a half. Why? You need me?�

�Petry and Nico will be here in a minute.�

�If I leave right now, I might make it in forty-five.�

�That will probably be too late. Wait until they arrest her, then come back.�

�Will do.�

Thanks to a call from Dino to his LAPD counterpart, an officer was waiting for Stone and him as they walked into the department�s Pacific Division Station, and they were immediately escorted to the lead detective�s office. A placard on his desk identified him as Kelvin Eldridge.

�Which of you is Bacchetti?� the detective asked.

�He�s Commissioner Bacchetti,� Stone said.

Eldridge didn�t look particularly pleased to be reminded of Dino�s rank. �I don�t want there to be any misunderstandings. I couldn�t give a rat�s ass if you�re friends with the chief or the damn president, for that matter. We do things by the book here. So, who you know isn�t going to get you any special treatment.�

�We aren�t asking for special treatment,� Stone said.

The detective looked at him over the top of his glasses. �And you are?�

�Stone Barrington.�

�Mr. Barrington, the fact that you and Commissioner Bacchetti are standing in my office right now says otherwise.�

Dino said, �Detective Eldridge, we�re not here to cause you any problems. In fact, we�re here to help.�

�Yeah, I heard our person of interest is a friend of yours.�

�Good,� Stone said, �that�ll save us some time. I�d like to speak with her.�

�She�s in the interview room, so that�s not happening.�

�You�re saying she�s being questioned without a lawyer present?�

�Why? Are you her lawyer?�

�I am.�

�Of course you are.� He looked past them. �Kwan!�

A female detective named Kwan entered the office. �Yes, sir?�

�Is the Reyes woman still being questioned?�

�No. She asked for her lawyer.�

�Did she give you a name?�

�Stone Barrington. I was just about to call him.�

Eldridge closed his eyes for a moment. �No need. Detective, meet Stone Barrington.�

Kwan looked at Stone, surprised.

�Are you planning on arresting my client, Detective?� Stone asked.

�That�ll depend on what we learn when we question her.�

�Let me save you the trouble. Even if that conversation happens, you won�t be arresting her.�

�And you know this why?�

�First, she arrived on the scene a few minutes before the police did. You can talk to her Uber driver to confirm that.� Monica had told him as much as she could before the police barged in.

�She could have gone and come back,� Eldridge countered.

�Actually, she couldn�t have. Before she went to the motel, she was at the Arrington, getting a massage. And before that, she was with the commissioner and me.�

�For how long?� Kwan asked.

�With both of us since breakfast. With me since before we both saw Tristan last night, when he was still alive.�

�You saw this Tristan guy last night?�

�I saw him, too,� Dino said.

�Maybe we should be interviewing you two.�

�We�d be happy to oblige, but the conclusion will be the same.�

�You�ll give sworn statements about all this?� Eldridge asked.

�We will.�

Simon poured the martini into his glass, then took a seat on the couch in his suite at the Verdugo Royale Hotel. He downed a few aspirins with his first sip. If the combo didn�t alleviate the headache he�d had since Petry�s surprise visit to the gallery, nothing would.

He was more convinced than ever that hiring Rudy to create the forgeries was the right move. There was no question in Simon�s mind that Petry had something monstrous in mind for the Stones. He just couldn�t figure out what it was. But unless Petry did something to change his mind, the paintings the asshole would be taking with him would be the forgeries from Rudy Morgan.

He sat up, a smile creeping onto his face. That meant the originals would be staying with him. And what better way to rid himself of his headache than priming the pump for their sale to someone who would appreciate them.

He hunted through his suitcase until he found the business card he�d received in New Mexico and dialed the provided cell number.

�Stone Barrington.�

�Mr. Barrington, this is Simon Duchamp. We met at Ivonne Cervantes�s opening at my gallery in Santa Fe.�

�Yes, Mr. Duchamp. I remember you.�

�Please, call me Simon.�

�Only if you call me Stone. What can I do for you, Simon?�

�You asked me to call if I heard of any of your mother�s work coming up for sale. I don�t want to get your hopes up yet, but there is the possibility that some will soon be available.�

�Some? How many are we talking about?�

�It�s my understanding perhaps as many as three.�

�That�s marvelous. Who�s the seller?�

�I�m afraid that�s all I know at the moment. It�s more rumor than anything, at this point. But if you are interested, I would be happy to investigate it further.�

�I would like that very much.�

�Then I will make inquiries and get back to you when I know something more.�

�I look forward to hearing from you.�

Teddy drove from the Arrington to his office at Centurion Pictures, as it was more convenient than his home in the Hollywood Hills.

A year earlier, he had personally installed a floor safe, hiding it under the credenza behind his desk. With the touch of a button, the credenza slid out of the way. He tapped in the code and swung the safe�s door open.

From inside, he retrieved a laptop that was loaded with the CIA�s latest black ops digital tools. He�d obtained them via a back door into the Agency�s system that he�d created himself.

One of the apps contained links into restricted record databases throughout the world. Teddy used it to get into the property records for the state of California, where he conducted searches for Simon Duchamp and the Duchamp Gallery. There were no hits for either.

Another link led him to a very handy, aggregate database that combined hotel booking records from the major chains in the U.S. This proved more fruitful.

Three rooms at the Verdugo Royale Hotel in Beverly Hills were currently booked by Duchamp Gallery. Two standard rooms and a suite. Teddy was sure Simon Duchamp would be in the latter.

He exchanged the laptop for a few items he thought he might need from the safe, then returned his office to its normal state.

At the studio�s costume department, he picked up a pair of gray coveralls and black work shoes, and at props, a length of rope, all of which went into a duffel. He then returned to his Porsche and headed out.

His next stop was a parking garage at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center. At this time of night, there were several open spots and almost no one walking around. With the help of the makeup kit he kept in his car and a wig from his safe, he turned himself into a middle-aged everyman, with a face not even a mother would remember. He then donned the coveralls and shoes to complete his transformation. Sporting a new identity, he drove to Beverly Hills and parked a few blocks from the Verdugo Royale Hotel.

Ten minutes later, he was rappelling from a balcony of an unoccupied suite onto the one belonging to Duchamp�s room. He landed without a sound, untied himself, and crept to the windows.

Inside, a man sat at a dining table, working on a laptop. He was angled so that Teddy could only see a portion of his face, but it was enough to determine he fit the description of Duchamp.

Teddy pulled out a listening device designed specifically to pick up voices through glass and stuck it to the lower corner of the windowed wall. He then climbed back to the balcony above.

On his way out of the hotel, he hid a relay in a maintenance supply closet. The device would upload to the cloud everything the bugs picked up, allowing Teddy to access the data whenever and wherever he wanted.

The first thing Teddy did when he woke up Thursday morning was check the recording from the audio tap on Simon�s hotel room.

The device was voice activated and had only gone off once, at 12:13 a.m., when Simon received a phone call. Teddy could hear only his side of the conversation, but it was more than enough to confirm Simon was dirty.

�You got the painting,� Simon had said on the recording. �That�s what matters.�

Simon wasn�t tangentially connected to the thefts. He was directly involved. He also revealed that the painting was to be delivered to him at his gallery in just a few hours.

That sounded like an event Teddy should attend, too.

By 8:15, he was parked a few blocks from the gallery. Dressed as an elderly retiree, he shuffled to a spot where he had a view of the gallery�s parking lot.

Twenty minutes later, a dark gray BMW 530i pulled into the lot, carrying two passengers. The engine shut off, but the men didn�t get out.

Whether they were the art thieves or not, Teddy had a strong feeling they had an interest in the upcoming delivery.

He snapped several pictures.

Stone finished his last lap and climbed out of the pool.

�Please tell me this means we can order breakfast now,� Monica said.

When he�d come down for a swim, he�d been alone. Now, Monica was sitting at the poolside table with Viv and Dino. Viv was typing on a laptop while Dino was working his way through the New York Times.

Stone grabbed his towel off the nearby lounge and started drying off. �You didn�t have to wait for me.�

Dino folded down the paper. �That�s what I told her.�

�Nonsense,� Monica said. �I wasn�t going to eat without you.�

�Looks like she�s not tired of you yet,� Dino said.

�I don�t plan on there being a yet,� she said.

�None of them ever do.�

Stone walked over to Monica and kissed her. �Don�t listen to Dino. He doesn�t understand romance.�

�I understand it fine. Viv, tell them.�

Viv looked up. �Tell them what?�

�That I know all about romance.�

Her eyes narrowed. �Not sure you want me to answer that question.�

�On second thought, I believe someone said something about breakfast?� Dino said.

Viv closed her computer. �None for me, thank you. I need to get to the office. I was there until almost midnight working out logistics with our team in Jakarta, and there�s still more to do.�

�I thought you were taking a few days off,� Stone said.

�This is her taking a few days off,� Dino said. �Look, the sun�s already up and she�s only now talking about going to work.�

Viv stood and kissed Dino on the cheek. �Try to stay out of trouble today.�

�I take it Dino mentioned our travails yesterday,� Stone said.

�In detail.�

�I also told you I wasn�t the one found at the scene of a murder yesterday.�

�Today�s a new day, so you never know.�

�Again, don�t look at me,� Dino said, gesturing at Monica.

�In fairness, that was the first time that�s happened to me, too,� Monica said.

�You came close in New Mexico,� Stone said.

�Not the same thing.�

�If you say so.�

�See you all later.� Viv headed into the house.

�Before I forget,� Dino said. �Ben sent over some documents he said we should look through before the first board meeting tomorrow. I left your set on the dining table.�

Monica�s phone began vibrating. She checked the screen, then said, �It�s my friend Patricia. Excuse me for a minute.�

She got up and took the call out of earshot. When she returned, she said, �They messed up.�

�Who messed up?� Stone asked.

�My art thieves. They went after another painting last night, this time in Del Mar. And before you ask, yes, it was another one of your mother�s.�

�Were they caught?�

�Not exactly. Two of them escaped with the painting. The other was shot by the homeowner.�

�Please tell us it wasn�t fatal and the police were able to question him?�

�I wish I could. The house was on fire when the homeowner caught them in the act. He shot the one guy and tried to follow the other two. By the time he got back to the house, the fire had spread, and he couldn�t get inside to pull the guy out.�

�I�m guessing it�s too soon for the police to have IDed the body,� Dino said.

She nodded. �The good thing is, since the owner saw the other two run off with the painting, the higher-ups at Vitale are starting to wonder if the other fires might have been distractions as well. My friend showed them the reports I�d been giving to Dalton. Turns out he hadn�t passed any of them on.�

�Maybe they�ll give you your job back.�

�I don�t want my job back. If I return, I want Dalton�s.�

�Tell them that,� Stone said.

�I will.�

They ordered food, and it arrived with an unexpected visitor.

�Morning, Billy,� Stone said. �If I�d known you were coming by, I would have ordered something for you, too.�

Billy waved him off. �Ate before I left the house this morning.�

Dino motioned to an empty seat. �Take a load off.�

Billy did so. �Where�s Viv?�

�One guess,� Dino said.

�Ah. At least one of your family actually works for their salary.�

�Not true,� Stone said. �Ben and Tessa also work for theirs.�

�I sit corrected,� Billy said.

�I�ll have you know I earn every penny I make,� Dino said.

�Whatever helps you sleep at night.�

�I take it this visit means your contact has learned something,� Stone said.

Billy nodded. �Last night, my friend happened to overhear Simon Duchamp on a phone call, during which he arranged for the delivery of a painting this morning.�

�A stolen painting?� Monica asked.

�He didn�t come right out and say that, but that�s what it sounded like. He also said that the painting had been obtained last night, and that there was some sort of problem with the job.�

�Monica, I think you should tell Billy what your friend told you,� Stone said.

She did so.

�Do you know the dimensions of the stolen painting?�

�I can find out.� She sent Patricia a text and received an immediate reply. �She says it�s two and a half feet by three and a half.�

�Something like this?� Billy turned his phone so everyone could see the screen. On it was a photo of a sedan in a parking lot. One man was climbing out of the front passenger seat, while a second was next to the open trunk, holding a rectangular package.

�Looks like the right size to me,� Stone said. �Do we know who the men are?�

�Not yet, but my friend�s convinced one of them is the person Simon had talked to on the phone.�

�Two people here and two people missing from the crime scene in Del Mar,� Monica said.

�That�s what I was thinking,� Stone said.

�Does anyone recognize them?� Billy asked.

�I don�t.�

Monica studied the picture a few seconds longer, then shook her head. �Sorry, no.�

�Apparently there were two other people present this morning, beside those two and Duchamp. It�s possible they�re the buyers.� Billy flipped through his photos until he came to the best one of the men from the BMW, then showed it to the others.

�I�ve never seen them,� Monica said.

Stone gestured to the phone. �May I?�

Billy handed it to him.

Stone pinched the image to magnify the men�s faces. �I�ll be damned.�

�You know them?� Monica asked.

�Not this one.� Stone pointed at the younger man, then moved his finger to the older one. �But him I do.�

�Who is he?�

�Winston Petry.�

�That name sounds familiar,� Dino said.

�It should. He was the defendant in the lawsuit that Herb won for my client.�

�Wait, now that rings a bell. Was he the guy that confronted you in front of the Seagram�s building?�

�The very same.�

�Let me see that.�

Stone passed Dino the phone.

Dino checked out the picture. �He looks like an asshole.�

�He is,� Stone said.

�Is he an art collector?� Monica asked.

Stone shrugged. �I have no personal knowledge of it, but if he is, my guess would be that his tastes run more toward Dogs Playing Poker than my mother�s work.�

�Then why was he there?�

�Revenge would be my guess.�

�For losing a lawsuit?�

�A thirty-two-million-dollar lawsuit.�

�Oof.�

�But Petry�s anger doesn�t stem solely from losing the suit. Our paths have crossed before.�

�What happened then?�

�He lost his business and was a hair�s breadth away from federal prison time.�

�Because of you?�

�Because of me.�

�So he�s twice burned.�

�I�m sure he sees it that way.�

�Then you think he hired Simon to steal your mother�s paintings to... what? Keep you from obtaining them yourself?�

�I�m sure that�s part of it. But something tells me that wouldn�t be enough for him.�

�Then what?�

�I�m not sure, but whatever it is, it can�t be good.�

�You don�t think he�d harm them, do you?�

�I feel certain he�d have no problem doing that.�

�That�s what I�m thinking, too,� Billy said.

�Because he broke the law, and you called him on it?� Monica said. �Talk about petty.�

�You haven�t known Stone long enough yet, my dear,� Dino said. �He�s a revenge magnet.�

�This has happened before?�

�Variations on a theme,� Stone said.

�The good news is that it appears your life isn�t in danger this time,� Dino said.

�Yet,� Billy said.

Monica�s eyes widened. �Someone has tried to kill you?�

Dino shook his head. �Not one person. Many.�

�How many?�

�We stopped counting a few years ago.�

�Dino, you�re scaring her,� Stone said. �It�s not as bad as he�s making it out.�

�Have you ever been shot at?� she asked.

�Well, yes.�

�More than once?�

�Also, yes.�

�How many times?�

�At the risk of repeating myself, we stopped counting a few years ago,� Dino said.

�Would Petry try to kill you?�

�I have no doubt he�d like nothing better than to see me take my last breath. But until that happens, I�m sure he�ll be content with hurting me in other ways.�

�Like possibly doing something to your mother�s paintings?�

�It�s no secret how important they are to me. It�s one of the places he could hurt me the most.�

She stared at Stone. �Exactly what kind of law do you practice?�

�Only the good kind,� he said.

�Excuse me for butting in,� Billy said. �But I need to know how you�d like to proceed.�

�We should go to the police,� Monica said.

�Okay,� Stone said, �let�s say we do. With what we have right now, we could probably convince them to open an investigation into Simon Duchamp. And they might even turn up enough evidence to arrest him and shut down his operation.�

�Call me crazy, but isn�t that what we want?� she asked.

�It is, but it�s not all we want.�

She chewed on her lip, thinking, then said, �You�re worried that Petry will get away?�

�I am, but again not my largest concern.�

�That would be your mother�s paintings,� Dino said.

Stone nodded. �If Simon begins receiving attention from the police, Petry might act sooner than he�s currently planning.�

�And we still don�t know when that is or what he�s going to do,� Monica said.

�Correct. But we might be able to find out. Do that, and we can put them all in prison and save my mother�s paintings in the process.�

�You make it sound so easy,� Dino said.

Monica turned to him, confused. �Isn�t this one of those conversations you shouldn�t be here for?�

�In the future, if anyone asks, I was inside taking a nap,� Dino said.

Stone rubbed his chin. �I think I know of a way to learn what Simon�s been up to without tipping off that we�re onto him. As far as Petry goes, though, it would probably be best if he thinks I don�t know he�s in town. Billy, do you think your friend can deal with finding out his plan?�

�I�ll ask, but I�m sure he can.�

�What about me?� Monica asked.

�Assuming Simon was involved in setting you up and knows who you are, you can�t be anywhere near him.�

�Do you have any reason to believe Petry knows about Monica?� Billy asked.

�That doesn�t seem like the kind of business Simon would share with a client, so I doubt it.�

To Monica, Billy said, �I�ll let my friend know you�re available if he needs help.�

�Thank you.�

Stone and Dino arrived at Duchamp Gallery at noon and approached one of the gallery employees.

�Welcome, gentlemen. My name is Mindy. How can I help you?�

�Is Mr. Duchamp in?� Stone asked. �I have something I�d like to discuss with him.�

�He was here earlier. Let me check if he�s still around. Can I give him your name?�

�Stone Barrington.�

�One moment, Mr. Barrington.�

She disappeared behind a wall at the back of the room and returned a minute later.

�You�re in luck. He�s in his office and asked me to bring you back.�

She led them through a gap between offset walls and into the back room of the gallery.

As they neared the office door, Stone said, �Would it be okay if my friend waited out here?�

�That shouldn�t be a problem.� The woman gestured toward a couple of couches in the corner and said to Dino, �You can have a seat over there, if you�d like, and feel free to make yourself a coffee.�

�Thanks,� Dino said, and veered off.

The woman knocked on the door, then opened it. �Mr. Barrington is here.�

She moved out of the way and Stone entered.

Simon jumped up and came around his desk, smiling broadly. �Stone, what a pleasure to see you again.� He thrust out a hand.

Stone shook it. �Good to see you, Simon.�

The art dealer returned to his seat and gestured to the guest chair. �I had no idea you were in Los Angeles.�

�Here for a business meeting.�

As Stone sat, he noticed a package wrapped in brown paper leaning against the wall behind Simon that looked exactly like the one in the photo Teddy had showed them.

�Of course, of course. A busy man such as yourself, you must constantly be on the move. May I ask, how did you know I was here?�

�I didn�t. I was in the neighborhood, saw your gallery sign, and took a chance.�

�I�m so glad you did. Did you enjoy the Cervantes exhibit in Santa Fe?�

�So much so that I bought one of her pieces.�

�Is that right? I didn�t realize. Which one?�

�Escape.�

Simon put a hand on his heart. �One of my favorites. You have a very good eye.�

�I just know what I like.�

�That�s the approach more collectors should take. I don�t mean to rush you, but I am a bit busy today. May I assume you�re here to discuss your mother�s paintings?�

�I am.�

�I see. Unfortunately, I don�t have much I can tell you at the moment, but I do anticipate news by tomorrow or possibly Saturday.�

�The good kind?�

�If I say anything more, you might get your hopes up.�

�Not even a hint?�

�Well, maybe a hint.� Simon leaned forward and lowered his voice. �I�m hearing that the paintings may be available very soon.�

�How soon is very?�

�You can�t hold me to this.�

�Of course not.�

�It�s possible they could be in your possession before the end of the weekend.�

�That�s fabulous news. How many are we talking about?�

Simon smiled excitedly. �Three.�

Stone had to force himself not to look at the package behind the art dealer. �Titles?�

Duchamp wagged his palm in the air. �I�ve said too much already.�

�I understand.�

�The minute I know more, I will contact you.�

�I�ll be in meetings for the next two days, so if you need me during that time, text me, and I�ll slip out and call you back.�

�Very good.� Simon hesitated, then said, �There is one matter we need to discuss.�

�Price?�

Simon smiled and shook his head. �You of all people are aware of the value of your mother�s work. I won�t even attempt to gouge you.�

�Glad to hear it. Then what do we need to discuss?�

�Any sale has to remain between the two of us.�

�I don�t follow.�

�The sellers are experiencing financial issues and have no choice but to sell to raise funds. If anyone they deal with finds out, that could cause problems for them.�

�You mean no publicizing the sale.�

�Precisely.�

�What I spend my money on is my business and no one else�s.�

�I�m so glad you understand.�

�Is there anything else I should know?�

�I believe that�s it.�

They stood.

�Thank you for taking time to see me,� Stone said.

�It was my pleasure. Here, let me see you out.�

Stone waved him off. �Don�t bother. I remember the way.� He opened the door, then looked back as if he�d just thought of something. �You can�t give me even a hint of which paintings they are?�

Simon mimed zipping his mouth closed.

�Thought I�d give it a shot. I�ll let you get back to work.�

Stone met up with Dino in the back room, and they returned to their SUV, neither saying a word until they were on their way to the Centurion lot.

�Anything?� Stone asked.

Dino shook his head. �No sign of them.� He�d spent the time hunting the back area for the stolen paintings.

�It would have been nice if he�d made this easy for us.�

�Since when does anyone make things easy for us? How did your conversation go?�

Stone recounted what he and Simon had talked about.

�So, he�s offering you the exact number of your mother�s paintings that are confirmed as missing. What a coincidence.�

�It is, indeed.�

�What I don�t get is: If he�s been stealing them for Petry, why is he selling them to you?�

�If you come up with an answer, let me know.�

Stone and Dino were meeting with Constance Mueller, Centurion Pictures� CFO, when Teddy called.

�When you finish up with Connie,� Teddy said, �I thought we could go for a drive.�

�Hold on.� Stone put a hand over the receiver. �How much longer do you think we�ll be here?�

�Ten minutes at most,� Constance said.

�Ten minutes and we�re yours,� he told Teddy.

Teddy was waiting for them when they stepped out of the administration building, a duffel bag in one hand. �Unless you�re okay with Dino sitting on your lap, we�d better take your car.�

Stone tossed him the key fob. �You drive.�

Soon they were heading east, toward downtown.

�First stop, Taylor Foods Packinghouse,� Teddy said.

�First stop?� Stone asked.

�I�ve had a busy day.�

�How so?�

�I put trackers on Duchamp�s and Petry�s cars, and on the one used by the potential art thieves. After meeting with Duchamp, Petry went to Du-par�s Restaurant, then the Four Seasons, where I confirmed he�s staying. The vehicle remained there for fifteen minutes, then headed north, all the way to Simi Valley. That�s northwest of San Fernando Valley. The car remained there for approximately a half hour and then headed back to the hotel.�

�What was Petry doing all the way out there?� Stone asked.

�I don�t know if it was Petry or not, but hopefully we�ll find out.�

�That�s where this packinghouse is?�

�No. Simi Valley is our second stop. The packinghouse is in downtown L.A. It was converted into townhouses years ago. At lunchtime, your friend Simon Duchamp went there.�

�Lunchtime? I met with him around noon.�

�I know. I saw you.�

Stone raised an eyebrow.

Billy told them about Simon leaving soon after they had, with a package that looked exactly like the one brought to him earlier. Billy had followed him to a townhouse at the packinghouse owned by someone named Rudy Morgan.

�Who�s he?� Dino asked.

�That�s what we�re going to find out,� Teddy said.

�You said you put trackers on all three cars,� Stone said. �Where did the last one go?�

�It made a stop at a Home Depot, then went to a motel in North Hollywood. It hasn�t moved since.�

They soon arrived at Taylor Foods Packinghouse. Stone and Dino went to Rudy Morgan�s front door and waited for Teddy�s signal.

When the text came, Stone rang the doorbell, but no one responded. He pushed it again, and still no one came.

�Maybe Rudy�s not home,� Dino suggested.

Stone called Teddy. �Either he�s out or he�s avoiding visitors.�

�Got it. You guys hang tight. I�m going in.�

Stone hung up, and he and Dino took a walk down the block, so they didn�t look so suspicious. They were almost to the corner when Teddy sent a text.

They returned and after Stone knocked, Teddy let them in, a finger to his lips.

They followed him down a set of stairs to a dimly lit lower level that appeared to be a single open space. The sounds of deep breathing drew Stone�s attention to a sofa against a wall upon which a person lay, dead asleep.

Teddy led them to a pair of easels deeper in the room and turned on his phone�s flashlight.

On each easel was a version of Stone�s mother�s painting entitled Twilight on the Water, which featured a view of the Williamsburg Bridge from the East River Park. If it weren�t for the fact that one still glistened from fresh paint, the two paintings would have been near identical. Stone had lived with his mother�s work his entire life, though, and it didn�t take new paint for it to be obvious to him which was the original and which a fake.

Teddy guided them to the side of the room, where Summer at Sheep Meadow leaned against the wall with a look-alike painting. The fake was even better than that of Twilight, but even though the forgery had been aged to match the original, Stone could also tell them apart right away.

This painting was special, a snapshot of his life, and for a moment, he was taken back to that carefree day and the picnic he�d had with his parents. While that might have choked him up when he was younger, now it brought a smile to his face.

He forced himself to look away. There would be time to study it later. He held up three fingers, silently asking Billy if the last missing painting was here.

Teddy took them to a table. On it was a paper-and-Bubble-Wrapped package that matched the one Stone had seen in Simon�s office. Stone peeled back a loose corner for a peek.

Inside was the third piece, Morning on the Avenue.

They returned upstairs and found a place far from the stairs, where they could talk.

�What do you want to do next?� Teddy asked Stone.

�Is it too simple to just walk out with the paintings now and get on our way?� Dino asked.

�That depends on our goal,� Teddy said. �If we just grab and go, you might be able to still snag Simon, but what if Rudy calls and warns him before the police get to him?�

�He could get away,� Stone said.

Teddy nodded. �Another option is to call the cops and wait for them here. Then we�ll get the forger and likely Simon and his people.�

�But not Petry,� Stone said.

�Probably not.�

�I want to take them all down.�

Teddy smiled. �I was hoping you�d say that.�

It took a single slap to wake Rudy. He gasped and looked around, then tensed at the sight of Stone, Dino, and Teddy sitting on chairs next to the couch.

�Have a good nap?� Stone asked.

The forger tried to get to his feet but was quickly thwarted by the duct tape binding his wrists and ankles.

�Who are you? What are you doing in my place?�

�My friends and I have been debating what we should do with you.�

�What do you mean �do with� me?�

�We could call the police and show them around your studio. That would be awkward for you. How are you going to explain why there are at least three stolen paintings here? That alone will get you a nice chunk of prison time.�

�T-t-they�re not mine.�

�Which, I believe, is the definition of stolen,� Dino said.

�I didn�t steal them, I swear.�

�Possession of stolen items is still a crime.�

�And then there are the forgeries...� Stone said.

Rudy started hyperventilating. �But... bu... but��

�You�re very good, by the way. You�ve only had them for a couple days at most, and while they might not be perfect copies, they�re close.�

�Um, thank you?�

�You�re welcome. Now, where was I?�

�You were going through his choices,� Dino said.

�Ah, that�s right. You could decide to cooperate with us, and by that I mean do everything we tell you to do. If you do that, when this is over, we�ll put in a good word for you with the DA.�

�That should knock a few years off your sentence.�

Rudy stared at them, waiting for more. When it was clear nothing else was coming, he said, �Is there an option that doesn�t involve me going to jail?�

�You could try to run, I guess, but you won�t get far.� Stone turned his head toward the stairs. �Lewis!�

The basement lights came on and revealed five unsmiling Strategic Services security officers standing near the stairs.

�Rudy, let me introduce you to my friend Lewis. He�s in charge of your minders.�

A man on one end stepped forward, nodded his head, and stepped back.

�My minders?�

�The day shift, anyway. Another crew will relieve them later.�

Rudy looked from the Strategic Services crew to Teddy and Dino and then to Stone. The realization of how truly screwed he was was written all over his face.

�W-what do you need me to do?�

At eight p.m., Stone, Monica, and Dino met Viv at Spago in Beverly Hills.

Viv ran a finger down the menu. �None of you will look at me funny if I order one of everything, will you?�

�That depends on who�s paying,� Dino said.

�Stone and I have a bit of business to talk about, so I think we can put this on the Strategic Services tab,� she said.

�In that case, order as much as you want.�

She patted his hand. �Always the supportive husband.�

�No time to eat today?� Stone asked.

�Not a second. Dealing with Jakarta took up the first half of the day, and you the second.�

�The aforementioned business we need to discuss, I presume.�

�One and the same.�

A waiter appeared and took their order.

Once they were alone again, Stone asked, �Can I assume you�ve been able to arrange everything?�

�I wouldn�t be here if I hadn�t yet. Surveillance teams are in place, and my people have bolstered our normal security at both the Arrington and the Centurion lot.� Strategic Services oversaw security at both facilities.

�And you, my dear, how was your day?� Stone asked Monica.

�Nerve-racking,� she said. �I spent most of it at the pool, waiting to hear from you.�

�How horrible.�

�Well, I was able to finish the massage I�d left in the middle of before.�

�Always a silver lining.�

Their food arrived, and after the waiters had gone, Monica said, �Quit stalling. I want to hear what you found out.�

Stone and Dino filled Monica and Viv in on their afternoon adventures as they ate.

�Who do you think the blood at the car wash belongs to?� Monica asked.

�Not a clue,� Dino said.

�We can�t even be sure whatever went down there had anything to do with Petry,� Stone said. �Though I for one think it does.�

�I for two,� Dino said.

�Count me in that camp,� Monica said.

�Ditto,� Viv said.

After they finished eating, Stone excused himself to use the bathroom. He was washing his hands when Dino came in.

�You shouldn�t go out there yet.�

�Why not?�

�Viv got a call from her team, telling her Petry just pulled up to the valet out front. He�s in the bar now.�

�By himself?�

�No, that Savage guy is with him.�

�Maybe I should buy him a drink. Get him talking. He might show his hand.�

�I suggested that. But Viv and Monica argued that now might not be a good time to agitate him. They came up with a plan that doesn�t involve us. And before you ask, you�re not going to like it.�

As soon as Stone, Dino, Monica, and Viv were all back in the Cayenne and headed to the Arrington, Dino asked, �So?�

Monica smirked. �If Viv ever gets tired of you, she�s not going to have a problem finding a replacement.�

�Tell me something I don�t know.�

�Don�t worry, honey,� Viv said. �I�ll give you plenty of warning before that happens.�

�That�s supposed to make me feel better?�

�The fragile male ego,� Viv said to Monica. �Nothing to be done about it.�

�If it�s not too much trouble,� Stone said, �I�d like to know if you learned anything from Petry.�

Monica huffed. �I�m a trained investigator and Viv is COO of a global security organization. What do you think?�

�Do you mind sharing what you learned with the class?�

�Let�s see. Where should we start?�

�How about with how full of himself he is?� Viv said.

�Already well aware of that,� Stone said.

�Maybe we should start with how he�s planning on attending a party Saturday night?� Monica said.

�A Hollywood party, I believe he called it,� Viv added.

�He did. Which just happens to be the same night as Billy�s party.�

�Quite a coincidence.�

�It is, isn�t it?� Monica tapped her cheek in thought. �There was something else Petry said. What was it?�

�That he�s going more as an observer than a participant.�

�That was it. That seems odd.�

�Very odd.�

�You two sound pretty proud of yourselves,� Stone said.

Viv grinned. �We do, don�t we?�

�Yes, we do,� Monica agreed.

�Are you done patting yourselves on the back?�

Monica shrugged. �For now, I guess.�

�Then, Viv, I think you should extend the extra security to cover Billy�s house.�

�I�ll do that. Maybe I should also have some of my people dressed as partygoers on Saturday night as well.�

�That�s a great idea.�

Stone�s phone rang. On the screen was the name Simon Duchamp.

�Everyone stay quiet,� Stone said, then answered. �Hello?�

�Stone, it�s Simon. I apologize for calling so late, but do you have a moment? If this is a bad time...�

�Not at all. What can I do for you?�

�I have excellent news. The owner has agreed to sell you all three.�

Stone exchanged a glance with Monica. �That is excellent news. What is he asking?�

�Given your relationship to the artist, he is willing to part with them for eight hundred thousand apiece, which I�m sure you realize is less than he would get if he let them go to auction.�

�That�s quite generous. Can you tell me which ones they are now?�

�I can. Twilight on the Water, Morning on the Avenue, and Summer at Sheep Meadow.�

Stone shared a look with Monica.

�There are a few conditions, however,� Simon said.

�I�m listening.�

�In addition to the prohibition on publicity we already discussed, he would like the sale completed by midnight Saturday.�

�Saturday�s a bit tough for me. I�ll be in a board meeting most of the day and then at an event that evening.�

�I�m sorry, Stone, but I�ve been told the deadline is non-negotiable.�

�What about tomorrow?�

Simon was silent for a few seconds. �I�m afraid that won�t work, either. The paintings won�t be here until Saturday morning.�

�Let me see if I can make some time in my schedule. Give me a few minutes, and I�ll get back to you.�

�I�ll await your call.�

As soon as Stone hung up, Monica said, �Someone�s anxious.�

�But not anxious enough to part with the paintings before Petry�s had the fakes for a day.�

�Simon probably wants the originals at hand, just in case Petry realizes he�s been stiffed,� Dino said.

�But why the midnight deadline?� Viv asked.

�Only one answer I can think of,� Stone said. �He wants to cut and run.�

They discussed options, then Stone called Simon back.

�You have a solution, I hope?� Simon said.

�I do, as long as you don�t mind meeting late.�

�What time do you have in mind?�

�How about eleven p.m., Saturday, at your gallery? I should be able to break free from my event by then.�

�I think that will work. And payment?�

�Once the paintings are authenticated, I�ll make the transfer.�

�Authenticated?� Simon sounded surprised, but then seemed to realize his mistake. �Of course, that�s perfectly reasonable. Whoever you bring in will have to agree to keep the transaction confidential.�

�Lucky for both of us, I don�t need to bring anyone as I�m the foremost authority on my mother�s work.�

Early the next morning, Monica exited her bathroom and eyed Stone as he pulled on the jacket of his dark gray Armani suit.

�My, you do clean up nice. Just one little thing.� She walked over and adjusted his blue-patterned tie. �That�s better.�

�Thank you, dear.� He motioned to the door. �Shall we?�

Viv was already in the back of an Arrington golf cart when they stepped outside. They joined her and the driver took them to the front of the hotel, where an Audi A6 sedan with a driver awaited them.

�Good morning,� Teddy Fay said from the driver�s seat after they�d climbed in. He�d changed his appearance to that of a fit, middle-aged man, with dark brown hair going gray.

�You must be Billy�s friend,� Monica said.

�Call me John.�

�I�m Monica.�

�Pleasure,� Teddy said.

She narrowed her eyes, studying him. �You and Billy wouldn�t happen to be related, would you?�

�Not that I�m aware of. Why?�

�Something about your eyes.� She sat back. �Sorry. Hazard of working with fine art. I tend to pick out details that others don�t.�

�Maybe you and Billy should take DNA tests,� Stone suggested. �You might be long-lost brothers.�

�I�ll suggest it to him.�

They made it downtown before the morning rush hour kicked into high gear, and were at Rudy�s door a few minutes before six a.m.

The door was opened by a member of the Strategic Services security team. As Stone and the others entered, they could hear hammering coming from deeper inside the townhouse.

�I take it he�s awake,� Stone said.

The woman nodded. �He hasn�t slept since you spoke to him yesterday.�

�That doesn�t sound like painting.�

�He�s building a box to hold the pictures.�

Downstairs, they found Rudy crouched at the open end of a large crate, examining the inside. Leaning against the wall beyond him were three paintings.

�Rudy?� Stone said.

The man jumped at the sound of his name and whirled around. �You�re... you�re back.�

�As we said we would be.�

�What�s with the women?�

�The ladies could be the difference between you serving a five- or twenty-year sentence.�

�They aren�t cops, are they?�

�Not anymore,� Viv said.

Rudy swallowed hard.

Monica�s brow furrowed. �Hold on.�

She walked past Rudy to the canvases leaning against the wall and brushed the tip of a finger against one of them.

Rushing over, Rudy yelled, �Careful!�

He pushed her away and leaned in for a closer look. The spot she�d touched now sported a tiny smudge.

�Dammit.�

He went over to one of his worktables, grabbed a few items, and returned to the damaged painting, then set to work fixing it.

�What tipped you off these were the fakes?� Stone asked Monica.

�I�ve been studying up on your mother�s work, and I knew something was off.�

�And here I thought I was the only one who could tell that quickly.�

�Is that another way of saying I continue to impress you?�

�One could interpret it that way.�

Rudy took a step back and studied his patch job, then faced the others. �Please, do not touch any of the paintings.�

�If they can be ruined so easily, no one�s going to believe they�re real,� Monica said.

�The other two are fine. This one will be dry enough by pickup time. Well, except for that spot, thank you very much.�

�The box is for them?� Stone asked.

Rudy nodded once.

�Simon�s still coming at noon?�

�As far as I know.�

�Where are the originals?� Monica asked.

While Teddy hung back and examined the box, Rudy led Stone, Monica, and Viv to the other end of the studio, where dozens of canvases were stacked like books on a shelf. The Matilda Stones were hidden among them.

Monica sighed. �These are the real ones.� She glanced at Stone, her eyes sparkling. �She was an amazing talent.�

�She was.�

�I�m sure she would be very happy that you found these.�

�Thank you.� Stone looked at Rudy. �Do you know yet if Simon�s taking these with him when he picks up the fakes?�

�The reproductions,� Rudy corrected him. �I do and he�s not. He texted me last evening that he wants me to hold on to them until tomorrow.�

�I believe we told you to let us know if he contacted you again.�

�You try creating one of these overnight and tell me how much free time you have.�

Teddy caught Stone�s eye and tapped his watch. If Stone was going to get to the Centurion lot on time, they needed to leave soon.

�Here�s how it�s going to go, Rudy,� Stone said. �I�m leaving, but my friends Monica and Viv are going to stay for a while, and you�re going to tell them everything you know.�

�Not just about these,� Monica said, indicating Stone�s mother�s paintings. �About everything you�ve been involved with, from your first forgery until now.�

�Are you trying to get me killed?�

�Would you rather spend the rest of your life in jail?�

Rudy looked unsure as to what would be the worse fate, but after a few seconds, he groaned. �Like I have a choice.�

�Good call,� Stone said.

As he and Teddy headed for the stairs, Monica pulled out her phone.

�You don�t mind if I record our conversation, do you?�

Rudy groaned again.

After dropping Stone off at the Centurion lot, Teddy drove to the Duchamp Gallery and used his well-honed skills to break in and disable the alarm.

Thanks to the audio bug in Simon�s suite, he�d learned that something was happening at the gallery at two. The obvious assumption being that it would be the time Petry picked up the forgeries.

Teddy spent ten minutes installing microcameras in the gallery�s back room, Simon�s office, and the showroom. Then, on his way back to the Audi, he placed four more cameras around the parking lot.

Once he�d checked that all the feeds were working, he drove to his house and transformed into Billy Barnett.

Thirty minutes later, he was on the Centurion lot, where he spent the rest of the morning huddled with his assistant, Stacy, going over preparations for tomorrow night�s party.

On Saturday morning, Stone lay in bed, attempting to read through the agenda for the final day of board meetings. The problem was his mind had other ideas and kept trying to poke holes in the plan to take down Petry.

Beside him, Monica groaned and nuzzled against him. She tilted her head back, peeking at him through half-closed eyes. �Hi.�

�Hello, yourself. Did I wake you?�

Her hand traveled down his stomach, her lips following close behind. �Does it matter?�

He tossed the papers on the nightstand. �Not in the slightest.�

A half hour later, they lay in each other�s arms, worries of the coming day temporarily banished from Stone�s thoughts.

�I believe that�s what�s referred to as an excellent start to the morning,� Stone said. �Here�s hoping it�s a harbinger for the day ahead.�

Monica propped herself up on an elbow. �Tell you what. If everything goes as planned, tomorrow I�ll treat you to a repeat performance.�

�And if it doesn�t?�

She grinned. �Then you�ll treat me.�

�Deal.�

They sealed it with a kiss.

�What time is it?� she asked.

�Five-thirty.�

�Too early to get out of bed and too late to go back to sleep. Whatever will we do to fill the time?�

�Perhaps I should practice for tomorrow, in case things go awry.�

She lay back on her pillow. �What an excellent idea.�

Practice went so well that if this were any other day, they would have never left the bed.

Reluctantly, they showered and dressed, then joined Dino and Viv for breakfast.

�Everyone ready for the big day?� Viv asked.

�As ready as we can be,� Stone said.

�Are you carrying?� Dino asked.

�I doubt the board meeting will get heated enough that I�ll need a weapon.�

�Maybe not, but the party will be a different story.�

�I�m already concerned enough about tonight. I don�t need to add a gun to my worries.�

�What could possibly go wrong?� Dino said.

�Do you want a list? Or...?�

�Now you�ve both gone and jinxed us,� Monica said. �We might as well go back to the room and crawl into bed.�

�I hadn�t realized that was an option. I�m game if you are.�

�Don�t tempt me.�

�It was your idea.�

�That�s not an excuse.�

�I�m serious about the gun,� Dino said.

Stone sighed. �Yes, Mother.�

After they finished eating, a golf cart took them to the hotel entrance, where two of the Arrington�s vehicles awaited them.

Stone kissed Monica. �See you back here at five.�

�If you hear anything more from Billy, let me know.�

�I will.�

Dino and Viv shared their own goodbye, then the women headed to Strategic Services� L.A. headquarters in one Cayenne and the men to the board meeting in the other.

Twenty-five minutes earlier in a house still under construction, sixty miles north, the rope securing Phillip�s left hand finally gave way. He caught it before it flopped onto the floor, then glanced at the guy sleeping in a chair next to the room�s only door. The man didn�t stir.

While it had taken most of the night to cut through the one rope, it only took a minute to remove the ones around his other hand and his ankles.

He stretched to get the blood flowing and rose to his feet. He hurt everywhere, but he could deal with that later.

He silently moved to the sleeping man and snapped the guy�s neck so quickly, the guard hadn�t had time to wake.

A search of the body turned up a seven-inch knife and a Smith & Wesson .45-caliber pistol.

He listened at the door but heard nothing, so he eased it open and slipped through.

Seven minutes later, he stood in front of the door to the master bedroom. Scattered throughout the house behind him were the lifeless bodies of the assholes who�d kidnapped him. The only one missing was their boss. And Nico and Petry, of course. But he didn�t expect them to be here.

Phillip shoved the door open, startling the naked couple lying on a mattress in the middle of the room.

�What the fuck?� the boss said. Then he realized who it was and dove toward a pistol on the floor.

Phillip pulled the Smith & Wesson�s trigger and the concrete just in front of the boss�s fingers shattered into dozens of shards.

The man jerked back.

Phillip gestured to the pistol on the floor. �Ma�am, kick that over to me, will you.�

The woman looked at the boss.

�Don�t you dare,� he said.

�I wouldn�t worry about what he says if I were you,� Phillip said.

The woman hesitated for only a moment before getting up.

The boss tried to lunge for her, so Phillip shot him in the shoulder, knocking him back.

The woman circled around the boss and scooted the gun to Phillip.

�Thanks. You might want to use the bathroom.�

�I�It�s not hooked up yet.�

�Please.�

�Oh. Um, sure.�

She hurried into the bathroom and closed the door.

Face roiling in pain, the boss yelled, �Jared! Mick! Get your asses in here!�

�Sorry, but they won�t be coming,� Phillip said.

The man�s eyes widened. �Wait. You can just go. I�ll��

Phillip put a bullet through the center of the man�s forehead. �Damn right I can just go.�

He opened the bathroom door.

The woman shrieked.

�Relax, lady. I�m not going to hurt you. I just have a couple questions.�

�Questions?�

�First, do you know where they put my phone?�

�Uh, I think there were a couple in the kitchen.�

�Cool. Last question, where are we?�

�What?�

�Our location. I wasn�t exactly conscious when they brought me here.�

�Right. Uh, this is Palmdale.�

�Is that part of L.A.?�

She shook her head. �It�s in the desert, about an hour north.�

�Thank you. You�ve been a big help. Probably best if you stay in here for a while. Can you do that for me?�

She nodded.

He smiled. �You have a nice day.�

When the board meeting broke for lunch, Stone and Dino took over Ben�s office and initiated a conference call with Monica, Teddy, and Viv.

�So, where are we?� Stone asked.

�Simon�s all lined up,� Viv said, then played them a recording of Rudy�s call with the art dealer.

�Billy, how are things on your end?�

�Petry�s vehicle is still at the Four Seasons. I hacked into the hotel�s CCTV system to see if he sneaked out, but he hasn�t left his room since arriving last night. I�ve got eyes on the garage where the cube truck is. No sign of Sticks or his buddy yet. Simon, on the other hand, has been very busy. A couple hours ago he drove out to Palmdale. That�s in the Mojave Desert, about an hour from downtown.�

�What was he doing out there?�

�Whatever it was, it didn�t take him long. He stopped at a strip mall parking lot for a minute, then turned around and headed back here.�

�And where is he now?�

�Driving around the Valley. I think he�s killing time.�

�More like he�s afraid Petry found out about the fakes and is staying on the move, so he won�t be found,� Dino said.

�Viv, anything from your people at the party?� Stone asked.

�No sign of trouble yet. I�ve added a team who will be stationed around the surrounding area.�

After they covered a few more items, Stone said, �I think that�s it. See everyone in a few hours.� He hung up and called the studio�s transportation department.

�This is Stone Barrington.�

�Good afternoon, Mr. Barrington. The car and driver you requested should be outside the admin building now.�

�That�s what I wanted to know. Thank you.� He disconnected the call.

Dino jumped to his feet. �I guess that�s my cue.�

�You could act a little heartbroken about missing the end of the board meeting.�

Dino put a hand on his chest. �It�s with a heavy heart that I must miss more mind-numbing hours of talking. Is that better?�

�Don�t count on getting a part in any of Peter�s movies.�

�You just don�t recognize true talent.�

�Keep telling yourself that.�

Dino gave him an exaggerated bow, then left for a trip to the LAPD headquarters downtown, where he had an appointment to meet with the top brass of L.A.�s police and fire departments.

Simon parked in front of Rudy�s townhouse ten minutes before seven. The idea of holding off until the top of the hour didn�t even cross his mind. He�d waited long enough.

Rudy�s girlfriend answered again, and once more he had the sense he�d seen her somewhere other than at Rudy�s.

�Oh, hey, you�re back. He�s in his studio.�

Simon mumbled his thanks and headed downstairs.

Rudy was at the far end of the room, looking through several paintings piled against the wall. He didn�t look up as Simon entered the room.

�I�m here for the paintings,� Simon said.

Rudy looked over his shoulder, then motioned to a small group of paintings covered by a drop cloth, leaning against a wall. �Have at it.�

Simon strode over. �I could use your help carrying them.�

�I�m busy.�

Simon glared at him, then huffed and shook his head. He retrieved the painting at the front of the stack � Summer at Sheep Meadow � turned toward the stairs, and immediately stopped in his tracks.

Standing between him and the way out were Stone Barrington, Rudy�s girlfriend, and a man who looked familiar.

�Stone, what are you doing here?� He tried to sound casual but failed miserably.

�You first.�

�Me? Well, you see... these... these are the paintings you�re buying. My friend Rudy was kind enough to store them for me. You can take them with you now and save me the trip back to the gallery.�

�Thank you, Simon. I�ll do that. After which I�ll be returning them to the people you stole them from. Well, except the one you�re holding. That one is actually mine.�

�Stole? Why, I would never. How � how could you even think such a thing?�

�Allow me to introduce you to my friend Monica Reyes.� He smiled at the woman Simon had thought was Rudy�s girlfriend. �You�ve probably heard her name before. She was a fraud investigator at Vitale Insurance, working for your late friend Dalton Conroy. You remember him. He�s the one you had killed along with Tristan Williams.�

The blood drained from Simon�s face. �K-k-killed? That�s pr-pr-preposterous!�

�Don�t forget Joshua Paskota,� Monica said.

�That�s right,� Stone said. �And Joshua Paskota in Santa Fe.�

�Joshua died in an accident.�

�That was the preliminary determination. But at the urging of my good friend Dino Bacchetti, commissioner of police for New York City� � Stone indicated the man next to Monica � �the Santa Fe Police Department has taken a closer look. Dino, you want to tell Simon about the conversation you had with Detective Eldridge on our way over here?�

�Happy to,� Dino said.

Simon realized where he recognized the man from. He had never met him before, but he had seen him multiple times on the news.

�Turns out it wasn�t an accident at all, but sabotage. When the detectives realized that, they went back and looked at CCTV video and found video of a man tampering with Joshua�s car just prior to the accident. They even uncovered his name. Hold on a second...� Dino consulted a notepad. �Phillip. Phillip Pierce. That�s the same Phillip Pierce who works for you.�

�You�re also tied to the death of Randall Vernon,� Stone said.

�Who?� Simon asked. He didn�t know anyone by that name.

�He was the owner of the home your people hit the other night. He died in the fire. That�s four homicides on top of the thefts.�

�I don�t know where you�re getting your information, but I didn�t have anything to do with any of it!�

�Just like you have nothing to do with the stolen painting in your hands?�

�Or the ones leaning against the wall behind you,� Dino said.

�Or the one supposedly destroyed in a house fire on Martha�s Vineyard, or the one from a sunken boat in Lake Michigan,� Monica said. �If you�d like, I could go on.�

�How...?� Simon hadn�t meant to say that, but he couldn�t stop himself.

�You�re not quite as clever as you thought you were.�

�Rudy,� Stone said, �if you don�t mind, please take my painting from Simon.�

Simon barely registered Rudy relieving him of his burden.

This couldn�t be happening. A few more hours and he�d have been on a jet heading south. He was so close. There must be a way out of this. Maybe if he made a run for it, he could get by them.

�I wouldn�t do that if I were you,� Stone said, as if reading Simon�s mind. �Besides, we have some friends who are very interested in talking to you.�

Dino called up the stairs, �Come on down.�

Several police officers, some in uniforms and some in suits, descended the stairs.

Simon stared at them, mouth slack, as any hope that he could escape went up in smoke.

One of the uniformed officers cuffed Simon�s hands behind his back, while a detective read him his rights.

�I didn�t do anything. It was... it was my brother and his friends. They stole everything! They�re the thieves!�

�We look forward to hearing everything you have to say, Mr. Duchamp,� a detective said.

Four of the officers escorted him up the stairs.

Billy Barnett smiled warmly as the first of his guests arrived. �Charlie! So glad you could make it. And, Janice, nice to see you again.�

�We wouldn�t miss it for the world,� Charlie said. He�d been a film producer for more than forty years, and his wife, Janice, was an award-winning production designer.

Behind them came a group of veteran actors, each of whom Billy greeted by name. It wasn�t long before the trickle of guests became a steady stream.

As Billy was saying hello to Logan Chase, an actor in Peter�s last film, one of the agents from Strategic Services signaled that he wanted a word.

�Grab yourself a drink,� Billy told Logan. �I�ll catch up to you later.�

Billy made his way over to the agent.

�Our two friends are on the east slope and watching the party through binoculars.�

�No sign of anyone else?�

�Not yet.�

�Thank you.� Billy returned his attention to a group of new arrivals. �Gretchen, you look stunning as always.�

That afternoon, Phillip broke into a house not far from where Simon had dropped him off. He washed away the dirt and blood, patched himself up, and donned some clothes he found that fit him well enough. The one thing the place didn�t have was a vehicle he could steal.

He checked several more homes in the area and finally found something that was even better than a car. The Yamaha Supersport motorcycle allowed him to zip through traffic and reach the Four Seasons Hotel in plenty of time to see Petry and his son-of-a-bitch lawyer leave for dinner.

Phillip�s plan was simple: make the two men pay for ordering his death.

He was surprised, but not particularly shocked, that when the two men left Crustacean, an SUV began following them. Obviously, Phillip wasn�t the only one interested in the pair.

The unofficial motorcade made its way into West Hollywood and then into the hills. When they reached the crest, they turned onto Mulholland Drive and traveled west for several minutes before veering onto a side street.

At an intersection a quarter mile on, Petry and Nico turned right, while the SUV unexpectedly turned left.

Phillip checked his mirrors, in case another car had taken up the chase, but the road behind him was empty. He glanced at the sky, wondering if there might be a drone keeping an eye on Petry. If there was, he didn�t see it.

The SUV was intriguing, but Petry was his prey, so Phillip went right.

Less than fifty yards in, the road curved and Petry�s sedan moved out of sight. Immediately, brake lights spilled onto the road.

Phillip pulled onto the shoulder and cut his engine. He could hear the sedan idling just around the curve along with what sounded like voices.

He propped the motorcycle on its stand and sneaked through the brush until he could see Petry�s vehicle. Someone was leaning against the driver�s window on the other side.

When the man stood, Phillip huffed in amusement.

It was Sticks.

Simon had told him of the arsonist�s defection and that he was doing something �unsavory� for Petry with the paintings. Given Sticks�s presence, Phillip figured whatever that was must be about to go down.

Sticks pointed ahead and said loudly enough for Phillip to hear, �You�ll be fine there.�

After the sedan parked, Petry and Nico joined Sticks and headed into the woods on the other side of the road.

Phillip moved the Yamaha to a less visible spot, then followed the trio on foot.

Stone ducked as a gunshot echoed past Billy�s house. He glanced at his friends. No one appeared to have been hit.

Another shot went off.

�It�s coming from where Sticks and Petry are set up,� Billy said. He listened to something on his radio. �One of Viv�s teams is moving in.�

�They weren�t the ones doing the shooting?� Stone asked.

�No.�

Stone glanced at Dino. �LAPD?�

Dino shook his head. �They were hanging back to catch Petry and the others when they returned to the road.�

�Then who took the shot and who were they shooting at?� Monica asked.

A Strategic Services security guard hurried over. �The guests are being moved into the house. You all should join them. It�s not safe out here.�

The radio on his belt squawked to life. �This is team five. We�ve got a body. Male, approximately forty-five. No pulse.� After a short pause, the security officer said, �He has a New York driver�s license, says his name is Nicolas Savage.�

Viv gestured for her security officer to give her his radio, and he handed it over. �Team five, this is Vivian Bacchetti. No sign of anyone else?�

�No, ma�am. Just the one.�

�There are at least two more out there. Proceed with extreme caution.�

�Copy.�

The fire engine had reached the small blaze, and firefighters were preparing to douse the flames.

�Billy, I need your car,� Stone said.

�Where are you going?� Billy asked.

�To find them.�

�I�m coming with you,� Dino said.

Billy handed Stone the keys to the Audi. �I need to make sure everything here is okay, then I�ll catch up to you.�

�Here,� Viv said, tossing Stone the radio.

Catching it in his right hand, he and Dino ran to Billy�s garage.

Stone and Dino jumped out of the Audi, ran to the gap in the shattered entrance, then peered inside.

The BMW had smashed against the back wall, collapsing a portion of the divider into the employees-only area beyond. The driver�s door hung open, and a few feet from it stood the motorcycle. Neither Petry nor Phillip were present, but Stone could hear muffled voices coming from deeper in the building.

Teddy pulled up in his Porsche and hurried to join them.

�Dino, go around to the parking area in the back,� Stone said. �Teddy and I will try to flush them out.�

�Try not to get shot,� Dino said.

�Top of my to-do list,� Stone said.

Stone and Teddy crept carefully into the gallery.

The wall that concealed the entrance to the back room was teetering but still intact. Stone gestured that he would go in that direction and for Teddy to approach the hole in the wall.

Keeping low, Stone moved to the wall, then checked around the edge. The short passageway was empty. He stepped quickly into it.

�Five million right now if you let me walk away,� Petry pleaded. �I can do the transfer right here.�

Phillip snorted.

�How � How about ten million?� Petry said. �You can walk away and never have another worry in your life.�

Stone chanced a peek into the staff-only area. Petry was cornered against one of the couches with Phillip looming over him, his gun ready at his side.

�Ten?� Phillip said. �Why not twenty?�

�Twenty? Sure, sure. Just let me use my phone and I�ll make the transfer.�

�What about thirty?�

�Um... okay. I... I should be able to do that. You have to understand, some of my money is tied up in��

Phillip pointed his pistol at Petry�s head. Petry yelped and cowered behind his arms.

�How much is your life worth? What about every penny you have?�

�Please don�t. I�m sorry for what happened to you. It was Nico�s idea. I didn�t know until it had already happened.�

�I�m not that stupid.�

Stone was sure Phillip�s patience had just about run out, so he aimed the SIG at him. �Drop the gun, Phillip.�

Phillip whipped around, his pistol following his gaze.

�Barrington?� Petry said, confused.

�I said, put the gun down.�

�Huh,� Phillip said. �So, you�re the guy all the fuss has been about.�

�I�m the guy. And I�m telling you there�s no need for anyone else to die.�

�I would think you�d be happy. I am about to do you a favor.�

�I�d be happier to see him spend the rest of his life in prison.�

Phillip nodded. �I can see how that might be attractive, but it ain�t going to happen. You put your gun down. I don�t have any reason to kill you, but if you insist on getting in the way, I will.�

From the rift in the wall, Teddy said, �That would be a mistake.�

Phillip twisted toward him, surprised. �Who the��

Before he could say anything else, Petry launched onto Phillip�s back. Phillip�s finger twitched and the gun went off, kicking up a spray of concrete near Teddy.

Phillip threw an elbow into Petry�s face, then grabbed the man�s hair, yanked him off, and shoved him to the floor.

Stone squeezed off a shot a second before Phillip pulled his own trigger. Stone�s bullet hit Phillip in the chest, spinning him as he fired. Phillip�s shot ricocheted off the concrete floor and smacked into the wall near Stone�s head.

For a heartbeat, Phillip remained on his feet, then he dropped to the floor with a loud thud.

Petry scrambled to his feet and ran to the rear door. But when he pulled it open, he froze.

Dino was standing on the other side. �Leaving so soon, Mr. Petry?�

�And not even with a thank-you for saving his life,� Stone said as he stepped into the room. �Dino, could you please escort our guest back to the couch?�

�With pleasure.�

Stone moved over to Phillip and saw that there was no need to check for a pulse. The man was staring dead-eyed at the ceiling, his chest still.

�Where�s Teddy?� Dino asked.

Stone looked over to the rip in the wall where Teddy had been, but he wasn�t there. �Teddy?�

He hurried to the hole and saw Teddy lying unconscious on the floor surrounded by debris from the crash.

Stone stepped through and kneeled next to him. He had thought Phillip�s first shot had hit the wall, not Teddy. Stone didn�t see any blood or obvious wounds, however.

He gently shook him. �Teddy?�

Teddy blinked and opened his eyes. �What happened?�

�That�s what I was going to ask you.�

�Phillip?�

�Dead.�

�How many times did you have to shoot him?�

�Once.�

�See, I told you that you were getting better. And Petry?�

�Cooling it on the couch with Dino. Now it�s your turn.�

�The last thing I remember is Phillip�s gun going off and the bullet flying past me.�

�That�s it?�

Teddy shrugged, then winced.

�You�re hurt?�

�Back of my head.�

Stone helped him into a sitting position, then checked Teddy�s head, finding a bump. He looked at the floor near where Teddy had been standing and smirked. �Looks like you slipped.�

He pointed at the mark on the floor that Teddy�s shoe had made.

�Is that a move the CIA trained you to do, or...?�

Teddy scowled. �If you think about telling anyone, remember that I know forty-seven ways to make your death look natural.�

�Noted.�

Tuesday morning, Stone opened the door to his house at the Arrington and said, �This way, gentlemen.�

Three Arrington bellhops entered, carrying paintings wrapped for transport. Stone led them into the living room and had them place the packages against a wall, side by side. He then thanked them, gave each a tip, and sent them on their way.

He opened each package and checked the contents. After the events of Saturday night, his mother�s work had been taken by the LAPD as evidence. Due to their value, it had been decided that each could be returned to its owner. Who, in all cases, was now Stone.

He had purchased one from the estate of the man who had died in Marin County and the other from the previous owner near San Diego. The third was the gift from Teddy.

Upon seeing that each was undamaged, he went out back, where Monica, Dino, and Viv were sitting by the pool, enjoying mimosas.

�Any problems?� Monica asked.

�Not a one.�

He sat on his lounge chair.

�While you were out, I had a call from my counterpart in the LAPD,� Dino said. �We are officially free to travel at will.�

They�d spent much of the last two days being interviewed by detectives working on the cases against Petry, Simon, Sticks, and Benji. Benji had been captured by Strategic Services personnel before he could escape Billy�s property, and Sticks had been maced by one of Billy�s neighbors while trying to steal the man�s car, then subsequently turned over to the police. Rudy was also in custody, though word was he was being very cooperative.

�I�ll call Faith and we can leave this afternoon,� Stone said.

�Are you that anxious to get home?� Monica asked.

�Aren�t you?�

�Good point.�

Monica had several job interviews awaiting her return, including one for Dalton�s former job at Vitale Insurance, and another for a similar position at Steele Insurance.

�What time should we be ready?� Viv asked.

�Noon should be fine,� Stone said.

Viv stood. �Come on, Dino.�

�Where to?�

�Our room.�

He checked his watch. �We still have plenty of time to pack.�

She raised an eyebrow. �Exactly.�

�Oh.� He jumped up. �Lead on, my dear.�

As they walked off, Stone and Monica shared a look.

�I like your friends,� Monica said. �They have excellent ideas.�

�They do indeed.�

�Shall we?�

�We shall.�

They headed into the house.