Chapter 26
J.T. knew Caroline was stewing when they landed, and frankly, so was he.
She didn’t understand Cynthia, and so she didn’t understand his urgency. Besides, her insistence on doing things “right” implied she thought he was wrong, didn’t it?
After they landed. Aunt Clara insisted they use the limo she’d rented to drive to Dare Valley.
“When did you have time to rent a limo?” he asked.
“What do you think Hargreaves was doing in between making us drinks?”
“But I have a car here,” he protested.
“Your Ferrari wouldn’t hold four people comfortably,” Caroline said like he was a moron. “Why don’t you drive it back? I’ll go with Clara and Hargreaves.”
She was avoiding him now? He didn’t like that. He thought about getting someone else to drive his car back, but it would take too long. Maybe it would give them a chance to cool off.
“Fine.”
“Hargreaves can go along with you if you’d like company,” Aunt Clara said, her brow arched.
He couldn’t tell if she was messing with him or trying to reassure him. It had to be obvious to her that he and Caroline were having a tiff.
“I’d be happy to navigate for you, sir,” Hargreaves said.
Like he needed that old windbag to help him find Dare Valley. “I know the way.”
“Very good, sir,” he replied.
He caught Caroline fighting laughter. “Great. I guess I’ll see you in Dare Valley then.”
On the ride back to Denver, he kept an eye on the limousine, but at some point he lost sight of it. How in the hell could anyone lose sight of a car like that? He looked for it, but he didn’t see it again. Since he was driving, he used his Bluetooth to call Caroline. She didn’t pick up.
Where in the world were they?
Aunt Clara was like a horse released from the barn in spring after a long winter. For all he knew, she might have suggested they stop at a casino or day spa. Although she’d looked completely sober, she’d been on her fourth gin and tonic. God, he couldn’t wait to see her and Trevor drink together.
Speaking of whom.
He called Trevor next. “Did you get my text?” he asked when his brother answered.
“You mean the one that said, ‘Got the lost Rembrandt and the whole collection. Coming home’?”
Why was everyone giving him a hard time? Wasn’t this exactly what they needed? “Aunt Clara is on her way to Dare Valley with me.” He paused, then amended the word to “us.”
“You’re kidding,” Trev said. “The old battle-axe? Dad won’t be happy.”
“Seems it takes two to tango, and Dad played his part. You’ll like her. She could out-drink you.”
“In your dreams. I got news too. Get your ass back here fast.”
“Can’t you just tell me now?” he asked. “I’m twiddling my thumbs, driving back to Dare Valley.”
“I hate phone calls,” he said. “Punch it.”
“What if I get a speeding ticket?”
“We’ll pay it. Get a move on.”
His brother hung up before he could tell him that he’d meant Aunt Clara was coming now. Oh well. He punched the gas.
The sun was setting when he entered Sardine Canyon. The Dare Valley sign welcomed him back, and it struck him anew that he did feel welcome here. Always had. Suddenly, he was looking forward to being home.
When he arrived at his house, the limo wasn’t in sight. “Shit.”
Tromping up to the front door, he let himself in. Trev was on his laptop in front of the roaring fireplace.
“I take it the others haven’t shown up yet?” he asked, shrugging out of his coat.
“They didn’t come with you? Right, the Ferrari. Maybe they’re taking their time. Look, we have a problem. I’m still not sure what it means yet, but my gut is telling me Cynthia is behind it.”
Some of his excitement about the painting faded. Trev’s gut was never wrong. “What is it?”
“Cynthia moved all of her money and a significant portion of Newhouse senior’s over to a new bank today.”
He tilted his head to the side. “What bank is it?”
“Carlyle’s,” Trevor said.
He knew it by name, of course, but it didn’t ring any bells for him otherwise. “Do we have any dealings with this bank?”
“No,” Trev said. “I checked. But it’s a big move.”
Yeah, changing banks with that much cash would be a total pain in the ass. “What about the safe deposit boxes?” he asked Trev.
The Newhouses had several of them, full of priceless jewels and important papers. But what could this have to do with him?
Trev pursed his lips. “I hadn’t thought of that. Good point. I’m wracking my brain here, but I can’t make sense of it. My sources don’t have any ideas either.”
Which meant the ceiling was likely going to drop on them any moment now.
They needed to tell the world about the lost Rembrandt ASAP, regardless of what Caroline said. He tried her cell again and got her voicemail. Dammit.
He texted her. I need to see you. Urgently.
In the meantime, he could write the press release himself and send it out tonight. If she didn’t get back to him, that was her fault. She was the one avoiding him.
Meanwhile, he had to make a move before Cynthia put another noose around his neck. If he didn’t, not even the Rembrandt could save them.