o,” Hagan drawled with a knowing look at Nick as soon as he appeared for breakfast. His hair was mussed and he was still wearing his T-shirt and jeans from last night.
Nick glanced at him, shaking his head as he tended to breakfast. He knew Hagan would give him hell.
“Where’s your boy?” Hagan asked. He slid into the banquette on the other side of the kitchen counter so he could watch Nick cook.
“Still in bed.” Nick glanced at him, glaring briefly. “Okay, go on.”
“I didn’t hear a thing,” Hagan claimed, and he reached for the plate of food that was ready. “How long have you been up?”
“Not long. I got a search going for robberies where papers or historical documents were taken. It’s worldwide, though, so might be a while.”
“Solid. What are we going to do with your hit man?”
Nick shrugged, glancing at the stairs. “Help him, I guess. That’s what I promised him I’d do.”
“You ever make a promise and then think, ehhhh?”
Nick snickered, flipped a pancake in the air, and then dropped it back in the pan.
“Got any coffee?”
“I don’t drink coffee. I’ve got tea.”
Hagan shrugged, wrinkling his nose. “This city was founded on the concept of tossing tea into the harbor.”
“That is… no. It was not.”
There was a thump from below. A few moments later Kelly popped his head over the railing and sniffed the air like a dog. “Is that bacon?”
“And eggs, and pancakes. Come on,” Nick said to him. He looked back to Hagan. “Appointment with the shrink at nine. Can you handle it, or should we get a few uniforms on it?”
“I got it covered,” Hagan said as he tried to swallow a mouthful of eggs. “Damn, kid, this is good. I didn’t know you could cook.”
Kelly slipped behind Nick and grabbed a plate. He kept his hand on the small of Nick’s back, ostensibly so Nick wouldn’t back into him in the small galley. When he moved again, though, his hand stayed there. He gave Nick a sideways grin before dragging his fingers across Nick’s hip and moving away.
Nick shivered violently. He was so intent on Kelly that he burned himself on the stove when he reached for the pan. He was still cursing and sucking on the end of his finger as he scrambled for his aloe plant when JD and Julian both joined them.
“Smooth, Detective,” Julian commented. His voice was just as droll as Nick remembered it being from their first meeting.
Nick broke off a tip of one of the aloe leaves and rubbed it over his finger, casting a glare in Julian’s direction. “I had an idea last night,” Nick told him.
“Really? I can’t imagine where you got the time,” Julian drawled.
Nick narrowed his eyes, but he wasn’t the type to be embarrassed about much of anything. “If that star is in Boston, I know someone who might be able to help us find it.”
Julian perked up at that. He glanced at the others, who were all watching Nick with wide eyes. “And who might that be?”
“Well, it’s stolen goods. Even in 1908, there were only so many people you could go to with stolen goods and keep it quiet for this long.”
“That’s a very bad idea,” Hagan blurted.
Nick shrugged. “I’m open to better ones.”
“I’m sorry, who are you talking about?” JD asked.
Kelly cleared his throat, rubbing his hand across the bridge of his nose. He had his eyes closed. “The Irish mob,” he guessed. “He’s talking about asking the Irish mob.”
JD’s mouth parted as he stared at Kelly, then looked to Nick with wide eyes. “That does sound like a bad idea.”
“You’re not going in there without backup,” Hagan declared. “Not happening.”
“I’ve got backup,” Nick said with a jerk of his head toward Julian and Kelly.
Hagan rubbed his palm over his mouth, resting his elbow on the counter. It hit his fork and sent the utensil flying, but he didn’t even try to catch it. “Partner to partner, how safe can you be doing this?”
Nick shrugged and grinned crookedly. “Just as safe as we were at lunch yesterday.”
Kelly couldn’t seem to stop pacing while Nick was on the phone. He’d told them he was making a call, then stepped out onto the deck and closed the door behind him. They couldn’t hear what he was saying, didn’t know who he was talking to, and Kelly couldn’t even see him to try to read his lips.
Kelly knew enough about Nick’s past to know this was a hugely stupid risk for him to take. Any interaction he had with the Irish mob here in Boston made him wide-open after the history he had with them.
They’d been drinking one night in Jacksonville while stationed at Camp Lejeune, playing pool and throwing darts, blowing off steam, when Nick had let slip why he’d joined the Marines. “It was that or keep running jobs for the Irish mob,” he’d said with a signature O’Flaherty grin before he’d downed his beer and then gone to hustle a sailor in a game of pool.
Kelly had always felt there was more to the story, though.
Hagan had put up a few more weak arguments before he’d taken JD to the psychologist for his interview. None of them could give Nick a viable alternative, though. Without the map that was said to be hidden on the star brooch, there was no way to find the treasure for Julian. And without any idea of the whereabouts of the robbers, JD was still in danger as well, and so was Cameron.
Nick stepped back into the salon, looking grim.
“What happened?” Kelly demanded.
“We’ve got a meet tonight.”
“That was fast,” Julian said. “Jesus, what sort of in do you have with them?”
“A personal one,” Nick growled. His tone made it clear that neither Julian nor Kelly were supposed to inquire further.
“Where’s the meet?” Kelly asked instead.
“Liberty Hotel, six tonight. We’re supposed to book two rooms, and reserve a spot for dinner.”
“Liberty Hotel. Isn’t that the place you wanted to take me? The old jail they turned into a hotel?”
Nick nodded. “Looks like we’ll get to see it after all.” He walked past Julian and Kelly, heading belowdecks without another word.
“Great,” Kelly said.
Julian took a step closer, lowering his voice. “Is there a missing piece of information I need to know here?”
Kelly sucked in a deep breath and hesitated, eyes darting between Julian and the stairwell.
“I understand your loyalty to him, but I’m not used to working blind,” Julian said, voice gentle and persuasive.
“Nick grew up here,” Kelly said quietly. “During the time when teenagers either got out, or got initiated. You understand?”
Julian nodded curtly.
“Nick chose the Marines at seventeen to avoid the mob. That’s all I know.”
Julian nodded again, then smiled sadly. “Rather like choosing the RAF to avoid the IRA.” The phone in the pocket of his jeans began to vibrate, and he scrambled to grab for it. “This is Cross.”
Kelly was close enough to hear the murmur of the voice on the phone, but he couldn’t make out what it was saying.
“I want to speak to him,” Cross demanded. “I want to know he’s alive before I give you anything.”
Kelly mouthed the word, “Kidnappers?”
Julian nodded.
Kelly darted for the stairs, sliding down the railing with his hands and feet like he’d been taught twenty years ago when he’d joined the Navy. “Nick!” he hissed.
Nick poked his head out of the bathroom. Half his face was covered in shaving cream, and he was wearing no shirt, just his jeans and a towel resting on his shoulder. He held his razor in his hand like a weapon.
“Kidnappers on Julian’s phone.”
Nick tossed his razor over his shoulder and hustled after Kelly up the steps. He went to the banquette in the pilothouse and ripped one of the cushions off, then rummaged inside the bench. Kelly hadn’t even known those benches were hollow.
Nick came out with a contraption that looked like one of the original mobile phones that had come in bags. He dropped it on the table and opened it up. Inside was an array of listening and GPS devices. Nick gestured for Julian to come closer, and as Julian spoke on the phone to his kidnapped boyfriend, Nick plugged the device into his phone. They had to contort to do it, and Julian wound up with shaving cream all over his shoulder.
He gave Nick one of the dirtiest looks Kelly had ever seen a man make, but Nick merely shrugged and turned the tracking device on. He rolled his finger through the air, telling Julian to stall and draw out the conversation. Then he handed him his towel almost sheepishly.
Julian wiped at his shoulder, still glowering.
Nick pulled Kelly to the side, dropping his voice to an almost inaudible whisper. “What did they want?”
“He just demanded to talk to his boyfriend before he’d give them information.”
“They want an update on his progress. Means they’re getting nervous. Fuck.”
“They’re going to kill this kid if he doesn’t find that treasure,” Kelly said.
Nick was watching Julian over Kelly’s shoulder. His jaw jumped as he gritted his teeth. “God help them if they do.”
Kelly glanced behind him. Julian’s eyes were hard as obsidian and his shoulders were rigid. He was obviously back on the phone with the kidnappers. Kelly took Nick’s elbow and pulled him toward the salon, then they stepped out on the deck and pulled the door closed.
“Are you going to be able to handle this meeting tonight? Because he’s compromised as hell and I haven’t been in a firefight in over a year.”
Nick slid his hand up Kelly’s arm, his expression softening. “I’d take a rusty you over anyone to have my back.”
Kelly tried not to smile, but he couldn’t help himself. He swiped his finger through the drying shaving cream on Nick’s cheek. “You should have left it scruffy. I like it like that.”
Nick smirked and then pursed his lips as he nodded. “I’ll remember that. But tonight, we have to dress to the nines. Did you bring a suit?”
“Yeah, I’ve got one. Why?”
“Because the man we’re going to see won’t speak to scruffy cops in jeans and leather jackets.”
A flutter of nerves went through Kelly’s stomach, though he wasn’t sure why. They’d faced dangerous men before. Something about the tension in Nick was bleeding into him.
“But hey,” Nick said, putting on that bright-side mask he’d always worn in the Corps. He smiled, and somehow he forced the warmth to reach his eyes. Kelly’d always wondered how in the hell Nick did that. “At least we’ll get that romantic night we were planning, right?”
Kelly snorted. “Whackadoo.”
The door from the salon opened and Julian stepped out, still fussing with the shaving cream on his shirt.
“For Christ’s sake, it’s a cotton T-shirt!” Nick said. “I’ll let you borrow one of mine!”
Julian huffed at him.
“What’d they say?” Kelly asked.
“Cameron is still safe. He swore he was unharmed, and I tend to believe him, though it was obvious someone was closely monitoring his words. He chose them with great care. They wanted to know where I was, and what progress I had made. I told them I’d been forced to enlist assistance. I got the distinct feeling they already knew that.”
“You think they’re following you?” Nick asked.
“If they were, I’d know it.”
“They’re keeping tabs somehow,” Nick insisted.
“Maybe they heard about the robbery,” Kelly suggested. “Knew it was either Julian or the other crew.”
“Perhaps,” Julian whispered.
“What role did you play in that?” Nick asked him.
“In what?”
“The robbery. The murders,” Nick said, his voice hard. “Was any of that you?”
“No, Detective. I was merely tailing them. And doing so from quite a distance. I never saw them, other than the van they drove. I got there and the scene was already as you found it.”
“You were tailing them?” Nick shouted. “Why didn’t you say that before? Where’d they come from? Are they based somewhere in Boston?”
Julian remained irritatingly calm in the face of Nick’s outburst. Kelly was impressed.
“They came from the airport. I followed their trail. I’m not concealing information from you, Detective. I want them stopped as badly as you do. More so than you, I would wager.”
Nick pointed his finger at Julian, wagging it threateningly. He calmed quickly though, acknowledging the logic in Julian’s explanation. “I’m going to go finish shaving,” he said through his teeth as he left them.
Julian watched him go, then turned back to Kelly with a sigh. “He seems tense.”
Kelly nodded.
“He struck me as the sane one when I met him before. Relaxed. Well-adjusted. He’s not anymore.”
Kelly pressed his lips into a thin line, nodding in agreement. “You said you were in the military?”
“Briefly, yes.”
“The team was called back last year. Whatever work they had them doing, it fucked them all up a little.”
“Why?” Julian asked. His concern seemed genuine.
Kelly’s stomach roiled and he looked away, into the yacht to see if Nick was anywhere near. “He won’t say.”
Kelly excused himself before Julian could ask more questions. He almost barreled into Nick as he came back out onto the deck.
Nick had already finished getting dressed. He’d forgone the suit today, instead staying in the jeans he’d been wearing and putting on a plain black T-shirt. His favorite leather jacket was over his arm, and his badge was on a chain around his neck. He was also wearing a shoulder holster with a gun on each side, rather than the one he usually kept on his hip.
“What are you doing?” Kelly asked.
“Going to work.” He held up his phone. “The trace didn’t get their location, call wasn’t long enough.”
Julian sighed shakily and nodded.
“It did give us a region, though,” Nick added.
“Really?” Julian blurted. “Where are they holding him?”
Nick’s expression hardened, and he met Julian’s eyes. “They’re in Boston.”
It took a few moments for Julian to get his temper and nerves under control; Kelly could actually see the emotions playing across his face. “I suppose that makes sense. They knew Boston was going to be in play in the end.” He stood there a moment, and Nick and Kelly were both silent, letting him work through it. “Excuse me,” he finally whispered, and he stepped past them into the salon.
“He’s handling that well,” Kelly said. “If they had you tied up somewhere and I found out you were in the same city, I’d be ripping things apart.”
Nick hummed and nodded as he watched Julian disappear down the steps.
Kelly studied his profile a moment before jabbing him with an elbow. “Hey. What’s wrong?”
“Something…” Nick shook his head and met Kelly’s eyes again with a weak smile. He slid his phone into his back pocket, then pulled Kelly closer to kiss him. “Stick with Cross, will you? See if you two can make some headway with this treasure shit.”
“You’re the history buff, babe, I’m not sure I’d know where to start.”
Nick nodded as if he understood that he was basically asking Kelly to sit on his hands all day. He looked annoyed with himself. “See what you can come up with anyway. Please? Don’t let Cross out of your sight.”
“You don’t trust him?”
“Nope.”
“You got it.”
Nick gave him another kiss, lingering over this one, then headed off for the dock and the parking lot beyond. Julian joined Kelly soon after, wearing a shirt he’d pilfered from Nick’s closet. Kelly and Julian stood together on the deck, watching Nick walk off.
“Care to take an unsupervised field trip?” Julian asked after a few moments.
“If I say no, are you going to ditch me the first time I take a piss?”
“Yes.”
Kelly nodded dejectedly. “Let me put some shoes on.”
Nick left his Range Rover for Kelly and Julian, knowing that as soon as he was out of sight, both men would be off. He trusted Kelly to take care of himself, though; he didn’t need his hand held. And hell, maybe they’d drum something up.
He left a note on his windshield for Kelly, then went to the storage unit where he kept his motorcycle. He liked to ride the bike when he was running down leads anyway. It was easier to find parking, even with the police plates.
He headed for the station first, checking in on the requests they’d put in for JD’s identity. A report had come in on the other robberies they’d searched for. Nick sat to read over it, then noticed a message on his desk from Boston College. One of the professors had responded to their inquiries, saying he recognized JD.
Nick tossed the robbery files aside and reached for his phone instead. When he called the number that had been left, a woman answered.
“This is Detective Nicholas O’Flaherty, I’m looking for a Professor Kris Singleton.”
“This is Kris,” the woman said. Nick had been expecting a man, but he shrugged it off. He liked her voice; it was smooth and a little hoarse.
“Professor, do you have a moment to speak to me in regard to the photos my officers were circulating yesterday?”
“Oh! Yes, of course, Detective. What can I tell you?”
“You recognized the man in the photo?” Nick asked.
“Yes.”
“Is he a professor at Boston College? An employee?”
“Oh, no no. He’s a writer.”
Nick frowned and scrambled for his notepad. “A writer?”
“I teach one of his books for a course. I recognized him from the photo on the back jacket. My students ask me every year if I can convince him to come and guest lecture.”
Nick smiled. He could see why college kids would want to sit and stare at JD for an hour. “Okay. What course is it you teach? Literature of some sort?”
“Archaeology and anthropology. I’m afraid I’ve misspoken, Detective; I recognized him from a book he wrote, but writing is not his profession. See, I teach a course on pop culture, and we discuss the differences between reality and fiction in the field of archaeology.”
“I see.”
“Expectation of the job versus the realities?”
“Right, telling them they’re not Indiana Jones,” Nick said.
“Exactly. But I try not to skew the course, so I offer readings from archaeologists and other scientists who… quite frankly are more like adventurers. Hiram Bingham III, Roy Chapman Andrews, Lonnie Thompson and Ellen Mosley-Thompson, and Mark Moffett, to name a few.”
“Okay. Scientists who are also kind of badasses, I follow.”
“I’m impressed, Detective, that you would know those names. They’re rather obscure bits of history.”
“I knew the first two,” Nick admitted.
She laughed. “Fair enough. He’s arguably one of those. His books are full of… treasure hunts and gunfights. Entertaining reading, but not the way it’s done. Not really.”
Nick’s stomach turned with this new piece of information. “What’s his name?”
“Hunt. Casey Hunt.”
Kelly could see the parking lot from the flybridge, so he knew Nick had left the Range Rover. After going through all the drawers in the house, though, he couldn’t find a spare set of keys.
“We’ll either call a cab or hot-wire it,” Julian finally told him when he reached the end of his patience. He swept out of the yacht and onto the dock without giving Kelly a chance to argue. Kelly had to jog to catch up with him.
“You know, you lose something without the long black coat. Little air of mystery is gone,” Kelly told him as they headed for the parking lot. Julian gave his khakis and borrowed T-shirt an offended grunt. Kelly shrugged. “It’s true.”
Kelly’s steps slowed when they came to the car and he saw a white note beneath the windshield wiper, fluttering in the breeze. He plucked it off and unfolded it.
Keys are in the wheel well. Please don’t hot-wire her. O.
Julian read it over Kelly’s shoulder. “He knows you well,” he commented before making his way to the passenger door.
Kelly grinned and knelt to search for the keys. Of course Nick knew him well. That was part of the attraction. “Where are we headed?” he asked as soon as he had the Range Rover running.
“The bookstore.” Julian held up Nick’s badge, the one he clipped on his belt when he wore a suit. “I want to look around.”
Kelly whistled and shook his head, putting the car in drive. “You’re going to be in so much trouble,” he sang.
“It’ll be fine. He won’t know if you don’t tell him.”
“Fat chance.”
“I just need to get the accent down.”
Kelly spent most of the drive critiquing Julian’s imitation of Nick’s accent. He’d heard some Boston accents that were damn near unrecognizable. Others, like Nick’s, were softer or had faded due to being away from home for so long. Nick’s grew heavier when he was drunk or ranting about something, usually baseball but also anything that required the word “fuckers” said with it.
Sometimes Kelly tried to rile him just to hear the original accent, but Nick was usually unflappable. He had to resort to saying “Go Yankees” to really get Nick worked up.
“You might get by with that one,” Kelly advised after Julian’s last attempt. “Just… don’t say much. And don’t use Nick’s name; they all know him around here, and you definitely don’t pass as a six-foot-one redhead.”
When they reached the bookstore, Kelly parked on the street, trusting the police plates on Nick’s vehicle to keep him from getting towed. Glass still littered the sidewalk, although it had mostly been swept into a pile. The shattered windows were boarded with plywood. Police tape sealed off the door, with a red tag attached near the doorknob that warned whoever entered about chain of custody. They were supposed to sign the little tag.
“Can you do his signature?” Julian asked. “There’s no one here to see it isn’t him.”
Kelly grudgingly signed Nick’s name on the red slip. “You’re taking all the blame for this,” he told Julian. “And I’m telling him you stole that badge.”
“Understood.” Julian pulled a knife from somewhere inside his jacket and slit the tape along the edge. When he tried the door, though, it was locked. He pulled a lockpick set out of another pocket, and knelt to work on it.
“How many pockets do you have in that thing?” Kelly asked.
Julian chuckled grimly. “You have no idea.” The door popped open, and Julian replaced his tools and stepped inside.
It was dim and dusty, and the smell of old paper and leather was overwhelming. Kelly headed to the car and rummaged through the back for a flashlight. He found a heavy Maglite, along with other supplies that might come in handy in the next few days if this led to a treasure hunt like he expected. He rejoined Julian, and clicked the flashlight on.
It played over the mess that was left of the shop. “Jesus. Why’d they tear it apart?”
“I suspect they didn’t actually find what they were looking for and this was either anger or desperation. Perhaps even a brawl. At this point, with little to no success, the rats may be turning on each other.” Julian made his way carefully to the display case that seemed to have taken the brunt of the attack.
“How many of them are there?”
“Two to five. I’m not sure of their exact number,” Julian answered, but he was distracted by the case. “Bring that torch here.”
“Torch,” Kelly echoed. “Oh, I miss the English.”
“I’m not English, I’m Irish.”
“Same thing,” Kelly teased. He stepped over a pile of scattered books and shone the light on the display case.
Julian placed his palm over what looked like a handprint in the dust. Then he swept his hand through the air, curling his fingers into a fist as he did so, hovering over another hinted outline of a print. The action seemed to mimic perfectly what someone had done to the display case.
“They wiped it down?” Kelly asked.
“I’m not sure. It could be a grab for whatever sat here. This case is extremely old, look.” Julian tapped his fingers on the corner. “Dark walnut with cabriole legs and dovetail joints. I believe this itself is a Colonial era piece.”
“Is that important?”
Julian fingered the wood like he was looking for something, but he shrugged. “I’m not sure. It’s possible it was part of a collection of items, all from the same era. I don’t know.” He straightened with a sigh and glanced around the shop. “Whoever destroyed the rest of this store, though, left this case intact. I wager they knew it was antique and couldn’t bring themselves to touch it.”
“Murderers with a respect for history. Huh. I wonder what led them here,” Kelly said as he began to explore the narrow, dusty aisles. “How far ahead of you were they in all this?”
“Too far. Much too far.”
Nick sat at his desk, hunched over files and notes and several books he’d had one of the summer interns go find for him at a nearby bookstore. He didn’t realize he was no longer alone until someone tapped him on the shoulder.
“You chasing down a lead?” Hagan asked him.
“Uh…” Nick’s eyes darted to JD, who was beside Hagan, craning his head to see the books on Nick’s desk. “Yeah. Yeah, I am.”
Hagan threw himself into his chair and clunked his boots on the desk. “What you got?”
Nick glanced at JD again and gestured for him to sit. After a few seconds of trying to decide how best to word it, he simply said, “We found out who you are.”
JD’s eyes widened and he sat forward, a smile playing across his lips. “You’re serious?”
Nick nodded.
“You don’t look happy,” JD said, dread creeping into his voice. “Oh God, I’m someone horrible, aren’t I?”
Nick picked up one of the books he’d sent for. “You actually seem like a pretty interesting character,” he said, and he set it down in front of JD.
JD eyed the book, then Nick from beneath lowered brows. “I don’t understand.”
Nick picked it up again and turned it over. On the back cover was a photo of JD wearing aviators and a canvas military-style jacket, standing on a mountain with Machu Picchu in the background.
“That’s me!” JD he grabbed the book, pointing at the photo and then turning it over to see the title. “I’m an archaeologist?”
“The professor I spoke with probably wouldn’t agree. She basically said you’re a hack.”
JD burst out laughing, then covered his mouth and nodded. “I can deal with being a hack. Oh my God.”
Nick raised his head in time to catch sight of Kelly and Julian entering the squad room. He raised his hand and waved them over when the desk sergeant tried to stop them.
“Casey Hunt.” JD set the book down gently, his fingers resting on the cover. “It doesn’t sound familiar.”
“What’s going on?” Kelly asked as they approached.
“We got an ID on him,” Nick answered.
“Yeah?” Nick could see the hesitation in Kelly’s eyes. He obviously knew the chances of JD being a good guy were slim. “That’s good, right?”
Nick didn’t answer. He knocked his knuckles against the desk instead.
“I’m apparently… a lot braver than I feel,” JD commented as he paged through the book. He looked a little crestfallen, even though they’d just had a major breakthrough.
“You okay?” Nick asked.
“Yeah. I was just hoping learning my name would… throw a latch or something, you know? Make me remember. It doesn’t even feel right, though. Hell, JD feels more like my name than Casey.”
Kelly sat on the edge of the desk, glancing at Nick again. “It takes three days to develop a new habit. We’ve been calling you JD for three days, so…”
“Yeah, I guess,” JD murmured. “Can you keep calling me that? Just for a while, I mean.”
“Whatever you want,” Nick said quietly. He pointed at Julian and Kelly. “Can I see you two for a minute?”
They followed along without question, heading for one of the interrogation rooms. Julian glanced around the box uneasily as soon as the door closed behind them.
“Ever been in one of these?” Nick asked him in amusement. He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms out of habit. It was always his first position when questioning a suspect.
Julian rolled his eyes, but he refused to sit at the table.
“What are you two doing here?” Nick asked them.
“We found something,” Julian answered.
Nick’s eyebrows rose. “At the bookstore?”
Kelly had been kicking at the legs of the table, which were bolted down, but he pulled up short. “How’d you know we went to the bookstore?”
“It’s the only lead you had, and neither of you strikes me as the type who’d look shit up on the internet or in a book. Did you get anything?”
“Not really,” Julian admitted. “Looking over the scene, though, I felt as if they missed something. They went for the case first, where they thought it would be, then they ransacked the place when it wasn’t there.”
Nick nodded. “Crime scene analysts came back with a blow-by-blow. They said the shopkeeper surprised one man coming out of the store. Guy opened fire, killing the owner. And judging by the trajectory, he’s the one who clipped JD. Meaning JD was walking away from the bookstore, toward the street. The others were in the street, likely by their van waiting. They opened fire on their own guy after he shot the owner, blew him away, took out the windows, left everyone for dead. Left the books the guy took. As soon as there was bloodshed, they bailed. Complete mission failure.”
“This is the first murder to take place,” Julian pointed out. “Perhaps they killed him to take the heat for it. Or perhaps he turned on them.”
Nick shrugged.
“Wait a minute, if the first shots clipped JD, that means he was standing between the store and the van,” Kelly pointed out. “What was he doing there? Why would they let him get that close instead of diverting him? And why do you look so pissy when you just broke his identity, what’s wrong?”
Nick sighed heavily. “He’s a professional treasure hunter. He has a degree from Columbia University, works out of a museum in New York. He’s got a reputation for going into dangerous areas and getting out unscathed with local shiny things. He’s also been accused of selling items on the black market, but there’s no proof.”
“Oh,” Kelly said, and his shoulders slumped.
“And you’re right. They wouldn’t have let him get between them and the store,” Nick continued. “Not unless he was one of theirs to begin with.”
“That’s a shame,” Julian said. “I was beginning to like him. His sketch of Cameron notwithstanding.”
“What I want to know,” Nick said heatedly, “is if there was only one man inside, and his shit was still in his bag when they left him there, who the fuck has those missing artifacts now?”
Kelly and Julian both fell silent, frowning at Nick. Nick had been asking himself that all morning. The thieves hadn’t gotten away with anything, the evidence suggested as much. But there were still two things missing. So where the hell were they? And why hadn’t they been where they were supposed to be?
“Well,” Julian finally said, taking a deep breath. “I suppose you should go ask your amnesiac that question.”
“What’s wrong?” JD asked Nick as soon as he saw him.
Kelly was right on Nick’s heels, trying to calm him, trying to keep him from blowing up. That had always been his job, and he was good at it on the rare occasions when he had to do it. Nick rarely even came close to losing his temper, but when it happened it was seriously impressive. And scary, for anyone who didn’t know him. Kelly got in front of him and put both hands on his chest.
“Breathe and think, O,” he ordered.
Nick lowered his head, and his eyes glinted when he met Kelly’s. “I’m calm. Let me do my job.”
Kelly knew when he’d been beat; he stepped aside and held his hands up. Nick grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair, pulling it up on two wheels and then toppling it over as the leather dragged it down. It clattered to the ground, and both Hagan and JD stood in alarm.
“What happened?” Hagan demanded.
“Order up an unmarked, we’re going for a ride,” Nick said. He took JD by the elbow and led him toward the door.
Kelly hurried to right the chair Nick had left in his wake, then shrugged in response to Hagan’s questioning look and jogged after his lover. He caught up to them in the stairwell.
“What’s going on, what happened?” JD kept asking.
“New evidence,” Nick snarled. “Need you to walk us through something.”
JD’s eyes were still wide and confused, but he was smart enough to stay quiet. Even Kelly kept his mouth shut until they were in the parking lot.
“Nick,” he finally demanded, and he grabbed at Nick’s elbow. He turned him until they were facing each other, trying to make Nick look into his eyes and realize he was spiraling out of control. Kelly didn’t want to divert the spiral, because he was of the opinion that JD needed to see what he was messing around with if he was faking. But he didn’t want to be left behind, either. “Where are we going, and what do you want us to do?”
Nick’s eyes darted over Kelly’s face, then to Julian, who was silently following along. “You two follow us in my car.”
Kelly nodded and let him go.
Hagan held up the keys to the unmarked sedan he’d requisitioned, and Kelly stood aside and watched Nick shove JD into the backseat and slam the door.
Julian clucked his tongue, then sauntered over to the Range Rover. But Kelly remained rooted to the spot for another few seconds. Nick hated being lied to, despised it with more passion than anything, even the New York Yankees. God help JD if he was trying to play Nick with a lie. God help them all.
Once on the road, Kelly had a hard time keeping up with Hagan until Julian casually flicked on the flashing dashboard light. They shared a look, both of them trying not to grin and failing.
“I could get used to this,” Julian drawled.
“Hell yeah.”
When they reached the bookstore again, Nick was already out of the car and standing in the middle of the street. They’d parked their vehicle with its lights flashing across the narrow lane to block traffic, and Nick was waving to Kelly, telling him where to park the Range Rover.
Kelly angled it, glancing around uneasily. He kept having to remind himself that Nick was a real cop on a real case and everything he did was with the appropriate authority. Kelly hoped it was, at least.
He got out of the Range Rover, his hand going to the butt of the gun under his jacket out of habit. He rarely wore a weapon on his hip anymore, but he was getting used to the feeling of having it there again.
Nick strode toward them and pointed to a chalk marking on the ground. “Shooter right here,” he said to Kelly. “Stand there. Bullet holes in the building put the shooter facing this way. Don’t move.”
“All righty,” Kelly muttered.
Hagan and JD joined them as Nick was positioning Kelly. “Getting a little bossy, there, O,” Hagan observed. “It’s a damn miracle you ever get laid.”
Nick didn’t respond to the attempt at banter. He beckoned JD with two fingers, walking midway into the street and pointing to another mark on the ground. “Stand here. Face the car.”
JD nodded, standing where he’d been told. He kept staring up at Nick with wide blue eyes, like a puppy being scolded. Kelly and Hagan shared a concerned glance.
“This is the staff sergeant coming out,” Kelly told Hagan quietly. “I’m used to it.”
Hagan looked him up and down, narrowing his eyes. “You come like a fire hose when he gives you an order, don’t you?”
“Only if he tells me to,” Kelly countered with a smirk.
Hagan rolled his eyes. Nick called him from where he was standing on the sidewalk in front of the shop door, and Hagan strolled over to join him. They were far enough away that Kelly had to strain to hear what they were saying. Nick was telling Hagan he was the owner who’d been gunned down walking into the store. Then Julian obliged Nick’s request to stand in the doorway, where the thief had been shot dead and fallen across the threshold.
When they were all standing where the evidence indicated they should have been, Nick walked through the scene, studying them, a frown firmly on his face.
“How do you know where the van was?” Kelly called to him.
“Window glass,” Nick answered as he circled JD. “Had JD’s blood on it. Bullet clipped him, carried onto the van.” He stepped back, looking first at Kelly, then at Julian. Hagan stood to the side, out of the line of fire. But Julian and Kelly were directly across from one another, and JD formed a direct line of fire between the two.
Nick put his hands on his hips, prowling back and forth, chewing on his lip. “Fuck,” he finally grunted.
Julian raised his hand as if he were holding a gun, and Kelly did the same, firing an imaginary bullet at him.
“No way of knowing what was fired first,” Hagan called. “But if you ask me, this looks like an assassination. Whoever was standing where the Doc is, he took out his own man in cold blood.”
Nick had a hand over his mouth, still circling JD, studying him, his feet, the way he was positioned versus the rest of them.
“You’re making me really nervous right now,” JD finally told him.
Nick stopped in front of him. He waited a beat, and behind them Julian raised his hand again as if aiming a weapon at them. “Turn around,” Nick ordered JD.
When JD did, he flinched at the sight of Julian aiming at him. He took a step back and knocked into Nick, who didn’t give an inch of ground. He held on to JD instead, keeping him from panicking or bolting.
Kelly abandoned his position and jogged over to them. “Hey. That shit’s uncalled for, man. Not cool,” he shouted. He moved to help free JD from Nick’s grasp, but the stunned look of terror on JD’s face stopped him. “You okay?”
“I remember… running.” JD took a shallow, shaky breath. “I was running away from the store. Away from him.”
“From him?” Nick asked, pointing at Julian.
“Wasn’t me!” Julian called in a bored voice.
“No, from the man who was shot. I ran out of the store. I was in there.” He put both hands to his head and closed his eyes. “Oh God. I really was in there.”
When Nick finally met Kelly’s eyes, he looked weary and almost sick. Kelly realized the hard-ass hissy fit he’d just thrown had all been part of a show he was putting on for JD, hoping to jog something loose. It had worked. It had been brutal and perhaps a little immoral, but it had worked.
“I’m sorry,” Nick offered. He gave JD’s shoulder a squeeze, then released him. “Let’s go inside. See if anything rings that bell again.”
JD nodded and headed woodenly toward the store.
Kelly stepped in front of Nick, glaring at him briefly. “You either believe him or you don’t,” he whispered. “If you do, you can’t pull shit like this. He’s already been through enough trauma, and he trusts you. Only you. You got to live up to that, babe.”
Nick nodded, his jaw jumping. “If he has to hate me to keep him safe, I can live with that.”
Kelly was left standing there, mulling that over as Nick sidestepped him and followed the others into the store. That was Nick’s major vice, though, wasn’t it? He’d rather have someone hate him than get hurt.
Two of Nick’s four sisters resented him and his distant relationship with his parents because they had no idea he’d been the only thing standing between them and a childhood of being knocked around by their father. And to Kelly’s everlasting annoyance, Nick refused to set them straight. He would rather they hate him and continue in their safe little bubble than learn the truth.
It took Kelly a while to get his temper in check before he could join the others in the shop. They were gathered around the display cabinet, scrutinizing it as if it might somehow provide them with doughnuts.
“I’m telling you, if this is authentic, it has a panel,” JD was saying.
“What’s going on?” Kelly asked. Glass crunched beneath his feet as he approached them.
“I was right about this cabinet,” Julian answered. “It’s Colonial era.”
“Pieces from this era, of this style, often had hidden drawers or panels, places where papers could be hidden from the authorities,” JD told them.
“Why?” Kelly asked.
“The Stamp Act, maybe? Every piece of paper the colonists touched had to be affixed with a stamp. It was very costly.”
Nick snorted derisively. “They didn’t hide their papers because of the Stamp Act. They hid them because they were planning a rebellion. The Stamp Act was one of the Intolerable Acts; it was a series of bullshit handed down from the crown, created a rift that made the atmosphere one of secrecy and paranoia. That professor was right, you are a hack.”
“Shut up!” JD griped. “You watch too much History Channel.”
“I’m sorry, the Stamp Act? What the fuck are we talking about?” Kelly demanded.
Hagan gave the bottom of the case a nudge with his boot. “The hack believes something could be hidden in the display case.”
“We just need to… find it,” JD said, and he reached his fingers out to touch.
Nick grabbed his wrist, making a hissing sound. “Active crime scene,” he grunted, and he extracted a pair of latex gloves from his pocket.
“Sorry,” JD said as he tugged them on. He ran his fingers gingerly over the wood. “It’s in remarkably good condition. I’m not seeing any obvious spots.”
Julian sighed heavily and shoved his hip against the case, rattling it down to its legs.
“Watch it!” JD shouted, and Nick and Hagan both jerked like they were going for their guns.
The decorative panel on the far right of the case rattled loose and fell. Julian caught it deftly, as if he’d just pulled it from thin air. He was smirking when he glanced up at them. “I sell antiques,” he quipped.
JD and Nick both glared at him, but Kelly moved forward and peered into the hidden compartment.
“What’s in there?” Nick demanded.
Kelly raised one eyebrow. “Guess.”
“What are they doing in there?” Hagan asked. “How’d they get there? Unless the owner knew he was going to be robbed, what the fuck?”
“I put them there,” JD said, realization dawning. He nodded excitedly and placed his hand on the case, where the outline remained in the dust. He swept across it as if grabbing up the two items, and his motion followed the dust trail perfectly. “That’s the only thing that makes sense. I was subverting them. That’s why I ran. Has to be.” He glanced around at them all, the hope renewed in his eyes and his half smile.
“It gels,” Hagan said to Nick. “He comes in under duress, they tell him to find this shit, but he’s able to hide it and claim it’s not here. Other guy starts tearing shit up, JD bolts like any sane man would, dead guy comes running out of the place shooting at JD. Then the killing starts.”
Nick was nodding, his eyes unfocused. Then an idea must have hit him; the color drained from his face. “That’s why they came after you again, at the pub,” he said to JD. “They didn’t know you hid this stuff because you went down in the street and they had to get out before they could check either body. They thought you still had it.”
“Why kill him, though?” Kelly asked. “Why not try to grab him and get the items back?”
“So I don’t get there first,” JD said, his eyes on Nick. Nick nodded grimly, eyes darting between JD and Kelly.
“We have to get there first,” Julian said.
Kelly straightened, shaking his shoulders out and clapping his hands together to rattle everyone from the suddenly heavy silence. “Well, let’s get on it! We’ve got until our meeting tonight to look over these letters and figure this shit out, so let’s work it out, bitches.”
Nick chuckled, but held his finger up before Kelly could reach for the papers inside the case. “Crime scene.”
Kelly’s shoulders slumped and he rolled his eyes. Nick got out his phone to call the techs in. “Use your badge to have sex in a parked car but won’t let me National Treasure a piece of evidence,” Kelly muttered as he walked away.
“Parked car?” Julian asked as he followed Kelly out.
“He’s more fun when he’s off duty.”