Chapter 25
When Ethan returned home, he walked inside, thoughts of Christopher Parker zooming about in his head. And his father’s many affairs. Had he somehow known he’d a brother before that brief meeting years ago before The Eye and had simply chosen to block it out? Possible. Trauma and all that psycho-babble that surely the ECU shrink could explain to him. He’d never discussed his ‘extra’ family with the shrink. Should he now?
Pausing before he switched on the entry light, he turned and looked at the front door. He’d just turned the knob and walked inside. It…
Wasn’t locked.
He spun and peered down the dark hallway. A streetlight beamed through the bedroom window and into the hall. Curling his right hand into a fist, he walked forward. When a figure stepped out of the bedroom, he grabbed it by the shoulder and slammed it against the door frame.
Olivia shrieked, and Ethan immediately let her go. Then, realizing what he’d done, pulled her into a hug. “I’m so sorry.”
“No, it’s my fault,” she said. “I broke in to wait for you. Oh, that hurt.”
“I thought you were an intruder. I was trying to hurt you. Why didn’t you call out?”
“I was just going to. Ouch.”
“Bloody hell. Sit down.” He lured her to the end of the bed and she sat, wincing even though she was trying to show a good face. He didn’t care why she’d broken in. He touched the back of her shoulder, where she’d hit the corner, and she gasped. “So sorry. Let me take a look.”
“Remind me to call out immediately if I ever break into your place again.”
“That would have been a good plan. I’ve got a few MMA moves a friend taught me in prison.”
“Oh, Ethan.” She bowed her head as he pulled down her sleeve to reveal a deep red mark. “I’ll be okay. I tried to text you, but you never replied.”
“I turned it off to talk to Reginald. Let me get some ice. I assume you stopped by because I wasn’t answering?”
She nodded and rubbed her shoulder.
“Sit tight.” He headed to the kitchen. He had no ice packs, so the next best thing would have to do.
When he returned, Livi was lying on the bed, her hair splayed across the pillow and her hand over her forehead. She looked a fallen woman splashed onto one of Sir Frederic Leighton’s canvases. So robust, but stricken. Full of color and yet shattered.
He switched on the lamp beside the bed, which gave her a more angelic glow.
“I came over to tell you what the restorationist found out about the Millais,” she said as he sat next to her.
He placed the bag of frozen peas under her shoulder and held it.
“Thanks,” she said. “That feels good. You must think I’m a wuss.”
“No, I’m impressed you didn’t go down. I take pride in my defense skills. You stood up to a hit from me. You’re tougher than you think, Livi. And I will do penance until I die for hurting you.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I forgive you. Let’s move on.”
If only receiving her forgiveness for being a forger were as easy. But he’d take what he could get. “Agreed. What’s going on in the lab with the painting?”
“The restorationist couldn’t understand why I had suggested the framed Millais was a forgery. He said it’s the original.” She tilted her head to look up at him. “It isn’t your work, Ethan.”
“That’s imp— How can he be so sure? I’m quite sure he hasn’t had time to radio-carbon date the paints.”
“No, but he’s working on it. How can you be so sure that it’s yours? Did you make the switch with the original, or did your father do it?”
“Christopher did it. I remember well. It was five years ago, as I’ve told you. It was May. A rainy evening. As was often his MO, my father hijacked the truck carrying the original and replaced it with the forgery. An easy exchange.”
“And where is the original now?”
Ethan shrugged. “I have no clue. I’ll have to go in and take another look at the Millais.”
“Yes, please. We’ve got to be exact with this case. I don’t want to make any mistakes. So tell me about talking with Reginald Parker. What did you learn?”
Ethan stood up and paced toward the door. Shoving his hands in his coat pockets, he looked at the canvas that hung on the wall across the hall. Had she looked underneath while waiting for him? He wasn’t going to ask. Because of course she would.
“Turns out I know the man,” he said, spinning to face her. “Apparently, he’s my brother. Or half-brother, as is the case.”
“What?” Livi pushed up on an elbow, then winced and gripped her shoulder.
“Lie back down,” he insisted, and sat beside her so she wouldn’t have to sit up. “If you keep the peas on it, it won’t hurt so much. Yes, my brother. I believe I did mention my father had an affair when I was five?”
“Yes. But did you know he’d had a child with the woman?”
“I did, but I never learned much about him, nor did I want to. I was offended that Christopher created an entirely new family behind my mother’s back.”
“Yet you two remained close.”
“He was all I had. I was—well, apparently I wasn’t all he had. But I’d been made to believe he never spent any amount of time with those others. Perhaps a few visits a year.”
Yet Reginald had said he’d lived down the block? Ethan’s throat closed, and his heart twisted uncomfortably.
“There was an occasion when Christopher and I were walking the boardwalk before The Eye, and a teenager came rushing up to me and introduced himself as my brother. I had put it out of my mind as a sort of defense mechanism, you understand. Until Reginald reminded me today that it had been him.”
“So what is this? Your long-lost half-brother has been committing terrible vandalisms to get your attention. For what? What is going on, Ethan?”
“Seems he felt I got all the accolades, and he missed out on proper training in the life of a forger from daddy dearest.”
“It’s a little late to ask for that now. He knows your father is dead, yes?”
Ethan winced. “Yes. But that’s not what he wants. Apparently my father had a secret studio, and Reginald wants me to tell him where it is.”
“You didn’t?”
“I couldn’t. I’m not aware of any secret studios. I’ve only known Father lived and operated out of the house in Tower Hamlets. I moved him closer in to the city about six years ago, but he insisted we keep the old house for sentimental reasons. After his death, the house was sold, and after paying taxes and debts, the small remaining sum was placed in an account for me. It wasn’t even enough to live on for a year. But a secret studio? I couldn’t let Reginald know I wasn’t aware of one.”
“Maybe the old house is his secret studio? Or was, until you sold it.”
“I don’t think so. Surely Parker would have checked there.”
“Right. So he thinks it’s information he can still get out of you? What if there is a studio?”
“The ECU has already begun a check. If a studio exists, they should be able to track it down.”
“What would be in it of value to him?”
“Possibly works of art. Forgeries. Or the real thing? I can’t know. I don’t believe it exists. Christopher never mentioned it. And yet, I wasn’t aware my father had an entire family beyond my mother, him, and me, so what do I really know?”
Ethan’s world had fallen apart on that evening his father had shot the policeman. And now again he felt the walls and floor moving away from him. Abandoning him to stand alone, orphaned and without family. And not knowing how to react. To call out for help, or to silently endure the pain?
He held Livi’s gaze. Any discussion he held with her about his family and its criminal ventures would only push in the nails deeper. And he must remain faithful to his job before his heart. Unfortunately.
She leaned up again and touched his arm. “It might come to you. Back to Reginald Parker. Why go to such a grand display to get your attention? He’s broken and entered. Vandalized. He’s harmed another person when that bomb burned the employee at the Wexler gallery.”
“I think he’s a bit mad, personally. Creepy in his stillness. Yet his eyes have a weird animation to them. Perhaps he wanted the whole city to pay attention. He did say something about enjoying the drama. Though using those awful forgeries to draw the public’s eye was a mistake. His actions are laughable. Yet, each time he placed another forgery over one of Christopher’s—or mine—there was the risk that we would be discovered. Implicated. He was the one who leaked to the media about the Wexler incident. And he’s threatened to tell The London Daily about me being a forger. He knows exactly what he was doing.”
“We need to arrest him before he strikes again. Because he will. If you refused him, he’ll keep pushing.”
“I know that. I let him walk away because I felt an arrest would put away for only a few months. If even that. We need to find where he lives. Get him with the goods, such as the materials he used to create the explosives. Otherwise we have only the foolish forgeries. Nothing solid.”
“And how to do that if you simply let him walk away?”
“I placed a tracker on him. My man should have a location on him by now.” He tugged out his cell phone.
“Maybe you should offer to give him a few lessons?”
Ethan stared at Livi.
“You wouldn’t actually teach him. But it could give you access to his studio or the place from where he operates.”
“I’m not sure. I suspect the secret studio would offer more value to Reginald Parker than painting lessons.”
“Time with his brother—whom he apparently has looked up to despite your being quite unaware of such admiration—could be a much stronger pull.”
She had a point. One that stabbed at his heart and pushed him further off balance. “Possible. I need to think about it. I want to take another look at the Millais first. It can’t be the original.”
Livi stroked his arm, sending shivers across his skin. “If it is the original, it would get you off the hook.”
He hadn’t thought of that. A preferred outcome in the overall scheme of his disastrous life. But he couldn’t understand why it would be the original. His father had made the switch. He was sure of it. Because if he hadn’t, where was his forgery?
He asked Livi what he desperately needed to know. “Does it matter to you?”
“Yes.” She pulled him down to lie beside her and, still on her elbow, she drew a hand up his stomach and to beneath his chin. “I told myself I didn’t want to return to your place with that painting hanging on the wall. But I realized it didn’t matter. I’m working on a case that has nothing to do with that painting. If it bothers me so much, I’ll deal with that later. Same as how I was able to pass by the forgery hanging in the Tate Britain that first day we met. Right now? We focus on the vandal.”
“And finding the originals.”
“Yes, that too. I’m a good police constable. And I will hold no prejudices if and when it comes to calling out whoever painted those forgeries. But to be honest, I’ve got my fingers crossed the Millais is an original. I care about you, Ethan.”
“You mean that? Even after all you’ve learned about me?”
“Even so. There are things about you that overshadow the darker side that disturbs me. You are smart, kind, and I truly believe you are dedicated to pursuing those who try to trick the art world now.”
“I am dedicated. And I will never lift a brush again. I swear it to you.”
She lowered her head, and when she looked up, her blue eyes sought his in the longest gaze she’d ever given him. It warmed Ethan’s heart. “Whatever we’ve got going on here? What we’ve done… We both know that those two times were not simple hookups.”
He hadn’t known she felt the same way he did. “I had hopes.”
“But can this work?”
“Seems to work for all those television detectives who tend to hook up while chasing the bad guys.”
“Sometimes it works. Other times it doesn’t. And that is also fiction.”
“I love a good romantic suspense story. Happily ever after or maybe next time, buddy? Why not give it a shot and let it take us where it wants to go?”
She kissed him. A long and lingering kiss that made him turn and pull her closer, his hand gliding over her hip to cup her ass. When she moaned, he pulled away. “Shoulder still hurt?”
“A little. I need to stay on my back for a bit.”
“That can work for me.”
She smiled. “I prefer being on top, but I can manage this way. Take off that coat and shirt.”
“You could stay the night.”
“I’m not going anywhere, lover.”
It was too late to get any more work done. With only the waiting game to play on the suspect’s location, Ethan shed his clothes and knelt over his Titian goddess.
* * * *
An hour later, Olivia got up and picked up her clothing. She could stay the night, but she wanted to get home and check the history books for the Millais. It was nearly one in the morning. She yawned. Her shoulder was feeling better.
Pulling on her dress, she wandered into the bathroom. She flicked on the light and flinched at her reflection in the vanity mirror. Yikes. She combed her hair. Thank goodness it was late. No one would see her makeup-free face.
Strolling out into the hallway, she dug in her purse for her car keys. She paused and leaned against the wall, opposite of the oversized canvas that concealed Ethan’s secret. She still wasn’t sure what to think about it. But she knew she didn’t like the modern artwork that covered it.
“So ugly,” she said.
“I take offense.” Ethan leaned against the doorframe leading into the bedroom. He was naked. A glance found he was at half-mast.
“I didn’t mean you,” she said. Glancing at his erection, she added, “That is a work of art. But I meant that awful modern art monstrosity.”
“We all have our foibles. I would never admit it in the esteemed halls of the Tate Britain or the elegant ballrooms of the rich and famous, but I have a penchant for modern art. It’s so bold and in your face. I like being shocked.”
“The colors don’t go together at all.”
“No, but that’s part of the shock. After a while, you almost accept that egg-yolk yellow fits pleasingly alongside pumpkin orange and fluorescent teal.”
Olivia shuddered mockingly. “I suppose I should confess my secret love for lowbrow illustration art. If my colleagues knew how much I enjoyed Maxfield Parrish’s work, they’d laugh.”
“I am also a fan of Parrish. The Lantern Bearers was one of my first works. Rather did a fine job of it, if I do say so myself.”
“The...” Olivia’s heart stuttered, and she dropped her shoulders. Her purse hit the toe of her shoe. “You forged The Lantern Bearers?”
He nodded proudly. “It was one of few times Christopher took me along for the switch. We overtook the van carrying works from a private collector and headed for auction at Christie’s.”
Olivia groaned. She gripped the purse strap so tightly, her knuckles hurt.
“What is it? Livi? Don’t you feel well? I thought you could stay the night…”
“You bastard.”
She marched to the door, trying not to look at the gorgeous naked man. He was the one! The reason she got sacked!
“That painting was purchased by the Hawhouse gallery where I worked. I was the one who purchased it, believing it was an original Parrish. But the buyer had a better eye than I did, and called me out after hanging it on his wall. It was a forgery. And I was humiliated amongst my peers and then sacked. Ethan, you were the reason for it!”
“Oh, bollocks. I’m so—”
“Don’t say it.” She put up a hand to block to shut him up. The last thing she wanted to hear was a feeble apology for screwing up her life. “I can’t believe this. I have to get out of here.”
“Livi, don’t go.”
“I have to. I have to get away from you. You…you ruined my life!”
She slammed the door behind her and rushed for the lift. He would not follow her. He’d better not.
* * * *
“Just let her go,” Ethan muttered.
He turned to the bedroom, eyeing his clothes strewn on the floor. A midnight tryst that he’d taken as if he’d deserved, from such an exquisite woman as Olivia Lawson.
And what had he done to her life? He was the least deserving of her attentions.
Turning toward the front door, he shook his head. “No. Give her some space.”
It was impossible, but he had to. She was angry at him. And for good reason. How ironic that it was one of his forgeries that had humiliated her amongst her peers and gotten her fired.
Bastard.
He wandered down the hall toward the bathroom, slapping the modern piece of crap as he walked by. He hated the painting. Which is why he’d purchased it. It was a reminder that he must never become complacent, no matter what.
He’d have to check in with the ECU. With luck, the tracking slip he’d pressed against Reginald’s wrist hadn’t fallen off or washed away.
He put the earbud in and tapped it twice. Chester, who never seemed to sleep, answered. “Were you able to pick up a signal on the suspect?”
“I am currently updating the systems software. Pulling an all-nighter. I’ll know in an hour. Call me back, Maxwell. Or I’ll call you when I have a location. Or would you like me to wait until morning? No one’s going anywhere until then, I’m sure.”
“Whenever you get the chance is fine with me.”
He set the earpiece on the bathroom vanity and stepped into the shower. The hot water beat at his face and chest, and he bowed his head to let the water stream down his back. He punched the tiles, releasing his frustrations. He had never meant to hurt Livi. And now the universe brought the two of them together to have it out.
For good or for ill.
After showering, he downed a cup of tea. He wanted to find Livi and apologize to her. But it was late. He needed to let her go.
Really?
He shook his head.
If the woman meant anything to him, he’d go to her. Even if it meant only going to her door and sitting outside until morning. He would be there. Waiting for her. Because she meant that much to him.
With a decisive nod, Ethan rushed into the bedroom. He pulled on his pants and a clean shirt and vest, then slipped into his shoes, grabbed his car keys, and headed out.
He strolled down the hallway toward the lift and pressed the “down” button. While waiting for the notoriously slow lift to arrive, he spied something on the floor. It was…a woman’s shoe. A familiar shoe. He’d taken that off Livi’s foot not an hour earlier. Why would she leave a shoe behind?
He picked it up. Something was scribbled in black marker along the side of the pink high heel. His heart dropped when he read the words.
This is my worst.