Stolen (21 page)

T
WO DAYS LATER,
Molly gave a press conference in the Blackpool Library. Several television networks and newspapers had followed the Chloe Sterling story.

At present, Inspector Paddington had the podium. “From what we've been able to put together, Edward Sterling conspired to murder his young niece. He threatened sixteen-year-old Audrey Cloverfield till she agreed that the child wouldn't survive the trip to Blackpool. Miss Cloverfield knew nothing of the train robbery that had been planned, and it was fortunate she wasn't killed as so many others were. When she discovered Chloe had survived the wreck, she identified another dead child as Chloe Sterling. Miss Cloverfield then made sure the child—who became known as Rachel Donner—was adopted by a good family, and she sent money to a barrister here in Blackpool to help provide care for the girl until she was eighteen. She feared that revealing to anyone that Chloe Sterling was still alive would sign her death warrant. Now, I'll be happy to answer questions.”

Realizing Michael had left the room at some point and that Paddington would be glad to step into the limelight for a time, Molly went in search of her husband. She found him at one of the displays with a cup of tea.

His leg was in a brace, though the physician had said
that it was only until the inflamed tendon quieted, but he looked as he always did. Casual and preoccupied.

“Not dreaming of mermaids?” Molly gestured toward the open notebook computer on the chair near Michael. The monitor displayed some of Keith's latest artwork for the game, and Molly was glad to see that they were more appropriate to the game's G rating.

Michael grinned at her, moving his attention from the display. He took her into his arms and held her a moment before he kissed her. Michael nuzzled her and she thrilled to the touch of his goatee against her neck. “So how goes the press party?” he asked.

“It's going well. The inspector has a flair for showmanship that I wouldn't have guessed at.”

“Is he having a good enough time that he'll stop scowling at us soon?”

“No. He's not having that much fun.”

“Too bad.”

“I feel very used, though. Simon Wineguard played up the angle concerning the lost treasure from the train robbery to draw everyone out. He set them off in the wrong direction, for the gold and the paintings, instead of for Rachel Donner/Chloe Sterling.”

“I should have thought of that, too. Didn't make sense for him to encourage competition for the search. But he was just using it to cover up his own investigating.”

“So where did the extra forgeries come from?”

“From Kirkwell. After the search for the train robbers died down, he was in desperate straits and made a few more copies from his notes. I found entries in his journal regarding those. He sold them slowly, taking care to parse them out.”

Molly glanced at the display case and spotted the
miniature version of Blackpool under the glass. “What's this?”

“A model of Blackpool during Charles Crowe's day. I'm told he made it himself.”

“With all the pirating he was doing at the time?”

“Even with.” Michael returned his attention to the case.

“You're quite taken with it.”

“I am.” Michael nodded. “It's very accurate. Built to scale. Quite impressive actually. But I can't fathom why he would build it and have it preserved here.”

“Ego. Men are generally known for their massive egos.”

Michael held her and didn't say anything.

“A lot has changed since the model was built.” Molly noticed the way some of the buildings now differed from what had been there back in the day.

“Situations change. Look at Rachel Donner.”

“I know. I'm glad Bartholomew Sterling survived being shot, and I'm even more glad that no charges were pressed against Aleister Crowe. But now Sterling will see all of his wealth being given to Rachel. As it should have been. She has children, and now she has enough money to help them and her grandchildren. She's quite excited.”

Michael glanced into the room being used for the press conference. “Are you required any further here?”

Molly smiled at him. “Not really. I'm sure the inspector can handle everything.”

Grinning, Michael started pulling her toward the front door. “Did I mention that I packed a picnic basket this morning? With Iris's help?”

“No, you did not.”

“And that it contained a bottle of your favorite fruit wine?”

“No.”

“Or that I've found a perfectly secluded little beach that I can get to in my Land Rover?”

“I've not heard a word.”

Michael smiled at her again as they stepped out into the morning sunlight. “Well then, it must be because it's all a surprise.”