Suspicious (On the Run) (13 page)

Jack pulled to the side of the road, hit the hazard lights, and they were both out of the car and running toward the point where the tire tracks bisected the tree line.

If the tire tracks in the snow hadn’t made it obvious where the car had entered the trees, there was a spray of pine needles on the snow and a scrape across the trunk of one of the trees where the bark had been stripped away.

The band of trees that ran along the road was actually quite small, only stretching for a few yards to the bank of the wide, fast moving river that curved along the road. The white car rested on the embankment above a several foot drop down to the icy riverbank. The right headlight was planted in a tree trunk, and the hood of the small car was crumpled all the way to the windshield.

As they approached the car, there was no movement. They exchanged a glance as they slowed. Zoe knew Jack was thinking exactly what she was—that when Harrington saw them, everything changed. Their ability to shadow him and alert the police to the next meeting between Harrington and McKinley was gone. “We have to make sure he’s okay,” Zoe said.

“I know.” Jack moved to the driver’s side, which was dented. A long scrape ran along the entire length of the side. “The door is jammed.” Harrington sat unmoving in the driver’s seat and didn’t react to their movements outside the car.

Zoe went around the other side and tried the passenger door. It opened easily. The airbag had deployed and a fine dust swirled through the air. Harrington looked okay except for a bloody nose and he seemed disoriented, a shocked look on his face. He slowly turned his head toward Zoe, stared at her for a long moment, then blinked and touched his nose. His fingers came away bloody, and he raised his eyebrows.

“You’ve been in an accident,” Zoe said, searched the interior for something he could use to staunch the bleeding, but the car must have been a rental because it had that fresh new car smell, and there was absolutely nothing personal in the car, not even a crumpled napkin or gum wrapper.

Harrington looked around, taking in the trees and the river rushing loudly by them. “Hit and run, actually.” Harrington tilted his head back and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Yes. We saw the whole thing.” Jack’s tone was hard and unforgiving.

Zoe shot a look at Jack over the roof of the car. Harrington looked frail and shaky, not like someone who’d masterminded an elaborate jewel heist then pinned the blame on them.

“What are we going to do?” Zoe whispered as Jack came around to the open door.

“Play it by ear,” Jack said, his attention drawn to the road, which they could see through the gaps in the trees. The traffic continued to move with an occasional vehicle sweeping by, but Jack was focused on a car that moved slower than normal.

“That’s the gray hatchback,” Zoe said. “Did they have an attack of conscience and come back to make sure everyone is okay?”

Harrington, sniffing and pressing his forearm to his nose, clambered over the gearshift and into the passenger seat. He patted around on the floorboard and under the seats while he tried to keep his chin elevated. He made a satisfied grunting sound, pulled something from under the front seat, and crawled out of the car.

“Come on.” He pushed between Zoe and Jack, gripped Zoe’s arm, and towed her deeper into the trees. “Away from the car. We need to get away from the car. In case…” Jack followed them quickly and moved to disengage Harrington’s grip, but Harrington dropped his hand, and his voice trailed off as the hatchback drew even with their yellow car.

Zoe squinted, but she couldn’t distinguish anything about the driver in the hatchback, except the person seemed to be wearing a hat or hood. Maybe a hoodie? The engine revved, and the car accelerated away.

“That wasn’t an attack of conscience.” Jack looked at Harrington.

“More like a check of their handiwork.” Harrington’s words came out choppy as he paused to breathe deeply. He bent over and rested his hands on his knees as he caught his breath. “Sorry. Shock. And adrenaline, I suppose. Good thing you’re here, or I wouldn’t have stood a chance.” Harrington straightened and pressed his sleeve once more to his nose experimentally, but it wasn’t bleeding anymore. “Why are you here, by the way? No, never mind.” He waved his own question away. “No time for that. Let me see if the car will start.”

Jack gripped Harrington’s arm, drawing him to a halt as Harrington tried to pass him.

“The only place you’re going is with us, to talk to Alessi.”

Harrington pulled back, confused, but Jack didn’t let go. “Alessi?” Harrington asked. “I don’t understand.” His tone shifted from puzzled to affronted by the time he finished speaking, and he shot an offended glance at Jack’s firm grip on his arm.

“Colonel Alessi of the Carabinieri. You’re going to explain to him exactly how you framed us for the theft.”

“Framed you—” He peered at Jack then looked to Zoe. She had her arms crossed. Harrington went as pale as the snow piled on the evergreen branches. “Theft?” He sagged, leaning against Jack. “There’s been another one?”

“The Flawless Set.” Jack’s voice was dangerously quiet as he added, “But you already know that.”

It didn’t seem possible that Harrington could lose more color, but he did, his skin going a gray that made the blur of dried blood on his upper lip stand out even more. Harrington’s gaze skipped from Jack to Zoe. He pulled himself together, straightened and carefully disengaged from Jack, who let him go, but Zoe could see that Jack was still on alert, ready to make a move if Harrington tried to run. Of course, she didn’t think Harrington would have a chance against Jack in a foot race or any other type of physical contest. Apparently, Harrington had come to the same conclusion, because he chose talking over action. “And you’re accusing me.” His tone was formal, as if he was an attorney questioning a witness at trial.

“Yes. The Carabinieri are under the impression that we are responsible, but
we
know we didn’t do it…”

Zoe stepped forward. “We saw you today. We know you met with McKinley, and we know about his reputation, his sideline business in stolen jewelry. We have photos of the exchange you made.”

“Oh. And you think…ah, I see.”

Harrington didn’t say anything. Instead, he lifted his hand toward Zoe. Jack reacted, moving closer to her, but Harrington wasn’t threatening her, only holding out his hand. The late afternoon sunlight was fading, and it was dim under the thick canopy of pine branches, so Zoe couldn’t see what he held in his hand at first. As she took it from him, she felt the slippery surface of a waterproof fabric.

“It’s
McKinley’s
gloves. Well, only one,” she amended. Something heavy, weighed it down. She tilted it over her palm and a cold, glittery mass of gold and sparkling stones landed in her hand.

It was the peacock brooch that had been stolen from Rowen House. It rested in her palm, the large opal glittering and sparkling with the faintest movement of her hand. The sapphires, emeralds, and diamonds interwoven among the gold winked in the light that filtered through the trees. “But this is…” Zoe looked in confusion from the stone to Harrington, her mind racing. “You exchanged gloves.” She’d seen it with her own eyes. She had photos to prove it. “This was McKinley’s glove. Why would he give you this brooch? Was he returning it?”

“In a way,” Harrington said, watching her keenly with the same sort of encouraging, expectant gaze that her geometry teacher had fixed on her when he called on her in class.

“He couldn’t fence it? Or is it a fake?” She looked again at the dazzling piece in her palm and immediately discarded that idea. Even to her untrained eye, she could see that the workmanship was beautiful, and the stones had a radiance that surely wasn’t an imitation. Harrington said McKinley was
returning
the brooch…there was only one other possibility.

Zoe’s gaze flew to Jack’s face as she rearranged the bits and pieces of information they knew. It all made sense if you flipped everything around. It was like looking through a telescope the wrong way first—everything was distorted and fuzzy—but when you switched it around, the view was clear and sharp.

She could see Jack had the same thought. His face, even his stance, relaxed.

She looked back at Harrington. “You were
buying
it back, not selling.”

He smiled as if she’d just correctly completed a geometry proof. “Yes. It was a recovery operation. The tip of the iceberg, I think.”

“You mean McKinley has more?”

“He says he has the rest of them, and I certainly hope he wasn’t lying, since I just handed him several thousand euros and promised him more tomorrow night. He said that there was more where that had come from.”

Jack frowned. “Did he mean specifically from that robbery, or just more jewels in general?”

“Oh, he meant that robbery. He thinks I’m working in conjunction with the insurance company as an independent investigator so he knows I’m only interested in the Rowan House jewels.”

“He knows you’re connected with Millbank and Proust? And he’s willing to talk to you?”

Harrington shrugged. “The police usually have little success with recovering stolen property, especially gems. A gem can be recut and entered into the legitimate retail market, making recovery extremely difficult—almost impossible. So insurance companies are often willing to ransom certain stolen items in order to get them back.”

“But doesn’t that just perpetuate the cycle?” Zoe asked.

“I didn’t say it was a good system, or that I agreed with it. Millbank and Proust have an official policy of not paying ransom, but in this case—well, desperate times and all that. It seemed the only way. And, technically, Millbank and Proust aren’t ransoming jewelry. I am, acting on my own.”

That glimmer of concern she’d noticed during their meeting before the exhibit hadn’t shown the depth of his apprehension. He was so worried about his career that he was willing to operate outside normal boundaries, something Zoe couldn’t fault him for. When your back was pressed against the wall, you sometimes had to do things outside normal channels.

“So if McKinley has this,” Jack pointed to the brooch, “he could have the Flawless Set?”

“It’s possible,” Harrington said slowly. “But they’ve only been missing for what? A day? That’s an awfully short amount of time. Logistics alone…getting them from Rome to here…”

“We came from Rome to here,” Jack said. “No reason someone else couldn’t do it.”

“And all the Millbank and Proust employees were scurrying out of Rome as fast as possible,” Zoe said.

“Like ancient Romans fleeing the barbarians,” Jack said. “Some people had already left, right?”

“Yes. Carlo was gone, and Amy was on her way to the airport,” Zoe said. “Mrs. Davray was scheduled to leave later that afternoon.”

“Well, I’ll definitely ask him tomorrow, let him know I’m interested in the Flawless Set as well.”

Zoe ran her thumb over the smooth, icy cold stone. “Why the delay until tomorrow? Why not buy all the jewelry back now?”

“Two reasons. First, because McKinley is cautious.” Harrington gestured to the brooch. “This little exchange was a test, for both of us. I proved I could produce the cash, and he proved he had the stolen goods.”

Jack said, “Sort of a dry run for the larger deal?”

“Exactly.”

“And the other reason?” Zoe asked.

“My retirement account has taken quite a hit. I can’t afford to purchase the whole lot on my own.”

Zoe blinked. “You bought this back with money from your retirement account?”

“I told you this whole operation is off-book. I don’t know whom I can trust in Millbank and Proust. I couldn’t afford to tip anyone off that I had a line on the stolen jewels.”

Jack said, “If you’re out of money, how are you planning to pay McKinley tomorrow?”

“Now that I have proof that McKinley has the jewels, I’d planned to directly contact the board of directors tonight to request a wire transfer to a Swiss bank account to buy the rest, which would insure the recovery of the jewels—the top priority of Millbank and Proust.”

“But what about McKinley?” Zoe said.

Harrington grinned. “I had intended to contact you to see if you’d be interested in more work—following McKinley.”

Jack nodded. “You were going to keep the recovery of the jewels quiet and see if McKinley’s path crossed with anyone from Millbank and Proust.”

“Yes. Not the best plan, but my company is most interested in recovery, not arrests. They are…reluctant to involve the police unless absolutely necessary.”

Zoe’s mind was racing as she went over the last twenty-four hours, rearranging what she and Jack knew. “The files with the details of the robberies, those were your notes. You weren’t planning the crimes,” Zoe said.

“You were reconstructing them,” Jack said.

“You’ve seen my files?”

“Yes. We were quite motivated to find you and tracked down your private digs near the Pantheon.”

“The apartment rental was a precaution. I couldn’t risk anyone I worked with running across my research. Hotel rooms are just not that secure.”

Zoe closed her hand around the brooch as she thought. “And the file with the list of people, that was your list of suspects. You were checking alibis.” She tilted her head as she said, “But how could you suspect Jack? That doesn’t make sense.”

“Suspect Jack? That’s absurd. He was never on my list of possibilities.” Harrington looked completely perplexed.

“The page about Safe Haven with the notes about Jack. It was in the suspects file.”

Harrington closed his eyes and shook his head. “I ran out of file folders. If I had any left, the Safe Haven information would have gone in its own file, but since I was out, I put it in the back of the last folder.”

Zoe shook her head at Jack. “Lumped in with the suspects because of an office supply shortage. We certainly leapt to a conclusion there, didn’t we?”

Harrington asked, “How did you find the apartment?”

“Luck,” Jack said. “After our meeting at the Pantheon, we got turned around and had to retrace our steps. We happened to see a man who resembled you going in the building and noticed that you didn’t ring the bell, but entered on your own.”

“Hmm. Sloppy on my part.” Harrington looked a bit miffed.