Chapter Twenty
Andi still hadn’t come down off her cloud by Monday afternoon, which was Labor Day, and meant no work or school. Liam had to go to Waterford to work with Zelda and Fritz for a while, then promised to be back for a little barbecue they’d planned. The minute he left, Andi made a decision.
It was time to let go of Jeff, the past, the fears, and the uncertainty. For the time being, Liam would be living here, which was fine. Wonderful, in fact. Of course, he’d sleep in her bed, as he had last night and would again tonight. She wanted to purge Jeff’s stuff without Liam, but with Christian. She wanted to do everything in her power to make sure that Christian knew Jeff would always be his father, but feel free to move on.
Christian, however, was not as interested in the dusty boxes spread out in the office as he was in the toy toolbox Gramma Finnie had found for him in some secret space in her third-floor suite. It was old enough to have belonged to Liam or his brothers, containing small but very real and functioning tools, like a hammer with a metal head and pliers that actually worked.
No wonder he was bored by old, dusty boxes.
With Jag resting in the doorway, Christian unpacked his little tools, hammered and screwed everything he could find, and could not have been more bored by the process of going through Daddy’s belongings.
She’d done this once, after she learned of his death and accepted the fact that his family didn’t want contact with her or Christian, so obviously they didn’t want Jeff’s things. She’d given his clothes to Goodwill, and stored the rest of his things in a few cartons. And there were some packages he’d shipped from Europe and had never opened that had been tucked in the back of the spare-room closet since the month he’d come back.
It was time to go through those, too, she thought, pulling out a box with a shipping label from Trier, Germany. She knew why she hadn’t examined these particular items when Jeff died, and now she could admit it to herself.
He’d gutted her when he’d gone to Europe to take the transfer they had both applied for and gotten together. She’d cried for the loss of her baby’s father and for the loss of her dreams of studying under some European masters.
She and Jeff were both building an expertise in the restoration of medieval landmarks, an arcane but wonderfully challenging area of architecture that would have surely led to the academic career she’d once thought she craved.
All that was lost when Christian was conceived.
“I can fix that!” he muttered from the corner, taking his hammer to a row of paper clips he’d taken from her desk to tap them on the rug. “I’m a carpenter now.”
She smiled at him, looking at the sun making his blond hair glisten, listening to his little-boy voice, and admiring every angle of his face and the way his childish body moved.
No, nothing was lost when Christian was conceived, she reminded herself. Everything was gained.
Turning back to the package, she found a pair of scissors to slice the tape.
She hadn’t even known he’d gone to Trier, she thought as she pulled it open, a little pang of jealousy tweaking. No doubt to work on the cathedral there. She’d written a paper on the massive church her last year of school, for a class in Roman-influenced design, a few facts slipping from her memory banks.
The Cathedral of Saint Peter, as it was known, was the oldest in Germany. They had something big there, as she recalled, that drew tourists in droves. Tons of art, too, all housed in a magnificent twelfth-century Romanesque structure that could have been a fortress as easily as a church.
Her paper had debunked the veracity of most of the relics they claimed to have, except a seamless robe that Christian tourists believed to have been worn by Jesus. There were other important pieces in the church, too, but they hadn’t been stored in her memory banks.
Some answers came as she peeked in the box and spied some tourism brochures from the cathedral, along with some rough sketches she recognized as Jeff’s distinct drawing style that must have been for a restoration project. Oh, how she’d have loved to have worked on that.
“Let’s put all the screws in this part, Jag.”
She looked up from the papers to gaze at Christian again. Instead, she worked on that. And that was better.
Deeper in the container was yet another wrapped package, covered with plain brown paper and no shipping label. She turned it over and opened the wrapping, taking it off as if opening a gift.
As the last piece came off, she let out a soft gasp of disbelief.
“What is it, Mommy?”
She blinked at the box, which was about ten inches square at the bottom but topped by a tall angular lid with four sides. Automatically lifting her hands as if she knew she shouldn’t be touching it, the possibility of what this was hit hard.
A reliquary?
No, that wasn’t possible. Although it certainly looked like an ancient container that was used to house beloved and blessed relics in ancient churches all over Europe, this had to be a knock-off Jeff had purchased at the gift shop.
Mother of pearl stones lined the top with gold embossing on an intricate carving. The box was wooden, but heavy, as if it had iron inside. And it sure felt…real.
Was this from the Cathedral of Trier? She dug deeper into those dormant memories again, coming up with nothing that looked quite like this. But she couldn’t be sure.
“That’s pretty, Mommy.” Christian had come closer, intrigued by the box. “Open it.”
She shook her head, instinctively knowing its value. “I need to figure out what it is first.”
And a reliquary missing from the Cathedral of Trier would be on the Internet. She pushed up to go get her laptop, which she’d left with her bag in the entryway. “Be right back, Christian. Don’t touch that.”
“Not even with my hammer?” he teased.
“Not funny.” She shot him a look from the doorway, where Jag was instantly up and focused as one of his charges was on the move. She signaled for him to stay, which he did, as she trotted down the stairs and remembered she’d left her dang laptop at the office because she was getting married this weekend and didn’t dream she’d do any work.
She could do a quick Google search on her phone, and she still might have a textbook from her Roman architecture class on the shelves in the living room. Perusing a row of titles, she dug around her memory for what that book had looked like, but had no recollection.
She pulled out one massive tome on the churches in the Constantine era, checking the index for a mention of Trier, but it hadn’t been included. Her phone was up in the office, so she could search online at least. And maybe the Vestal Valley College library would have some books on Trier. The collection was small, but this church was well known and included in many different classes on art history, world religions, and architecture. She might find something tomorrow before her class started.
“Mommy? Where did you go?”
“Coming!” She’d look on her phone and check the school library tomorrow.
Back in her office, she noticed that Christian had lost interest in her find, having returned his attention to the row of paper clips and tools. So she picked up the box very carefully and set it on a high shelf, and then grabbed her phone to open up a search on the relics of the Cathedral of Trier.
“Mommy, I’m bored.”
Of course he was. “Honey, look I’ve found some pictures of churches your daddy worked on,” she said. “Do you want to see? He was a very talented architect, and he helped rebuild these—”
“Can we take Jag to the square?”
She bit back a sigh, tapping her phone when an image of the cathedral came up, and dozens of relics, the pictures too small on this screen to really study. “Later. This is important, Christian. I want you to know who your father was.”
“I do know. Jefferson John Scott.” He stuffed his last tool into the metal box Gramma Finnie had given him. “I want to go to the square. With Jag.”
“After you look at these things and I get them ready for storage.”
His shoulders dropped in disappointment. “Mommy, please. You’re on your phone.”
“But I…” Oh, why push him? He was too young to care about Jeff’s work, but maybe he’d have an interest later in life. She’d go to the college early tomorrow and put in a few good hours of research on this box. “All right. It’s too nice to sit in here today anyway.” She pushed up and ruffled his blond hair. “Let’s go, schmoe.”
He grinned, all bright and happy again. “Let’s go, schmoe!” he fired back, on his feet, holding his little toolbox, snapping for Jag.
As Jag and Christian bounded down the stairs, Andi turned and took one last look at the box she’d discovered, sitting on a shelf over her drafting table, questions plaguing her.
Why would he have that? Why would he not show it to her? How could she tell Christian about him when there was so much about Jeff Scott she actually didn’t know?
Downstairs, Jag’s barking rose to a crescendo, stealing her attention.
“Liam is here!” Christian called out, the excitement in his voice at this news impossible to ignore.
So why was she trying so hard to tell him about Jeff when a new man—a good, real, alive man who truly cared about them—made Christian so happy? A man who, judging by the way her heart soared as she hurried down to the front door, made her happy, too?
“What are you doing back so early?” she asked as she opened the door, stepping aside so Jag could greet him and Christian could jump up and down and show him the toolbox.
“Hey, I recognize that!” Liam lifted it into the air. “That’s my toolbox.”
“It’s mine!” Christian yelled. “Gramma Finnie gave it to me.”
Liam held it out, too far for Christian to reach. “I bet you a million dollars there’s an Amazing Spider-Man sticker on the bottom with his left hand missing three fingers.”
Christian’s jaw dropped, proving he’d already looked at the bottom. Liam turned the box and, sure enough, there was a slightly defaced Spider-Man sticker, circa early eighties. “But you can have it,” Liam said, handing him the box. “Hammer in good health, boyo.”
“I want to fix the pirate ship now!”
“With that?” Liam shot Andi a look of amused incredulity.
“Yes,” Christian replied. “I have everything we need right here, but Mommy won’t let me go up to the top alone.” He raised the toolbox in victory. “But now we can bang that board down so I can go to the very top of the pirate ship. Will you help me?”
Liam didn’t hesitate, reaching down and scooping Christian up in his big arms, practically throwing him over his shoulder. Christian let out a high-pitched squeal, and Jag barked to get in on the action.
“I will help you do anything you want,” Liam promised, scooting him higher and getting the expected shriek in response. “As long as this beautiful woman…” He reached his free hand to take Andi’s. “Comes along for the ride.”
Andi smiled at him, almost unable to handle the swell of joy in her heart, the boxes and the past and the task upstairs forgotten.
“Anywhere,” she whispered.
Then the three of them headed over to the square…just like a family.
* * *
The next afternoon, Darcy stuck her head in Liam’s office, pulling him from some paperwork. “Yeah, what’s up, Darce?”
“There’s a detective from Virginia in the reception area asking to see you. With his dog.”
“I don’t have any appointments,” he said, checking the clock on his desk. He had less than forty minutes to get Christian from after-school care and bring him to Waterford, like he’d promised Andi. He had Jag here at Waterford because Andi was going straight from work to her Vestal Valley classroom early for her Tuesday night class. “Is he a drop-in looking for K-9 training?”
She shrugged and glanced at a card in her hand. “Detective Paul Batista, Charlottesville PD.”
Liam was up instantly. “He came in person?” Liam had talked to Paul briefly last week, asking for anything he had on the Scott family that might help Andi’s case and planned to follow up in a day or two. “Of course I want to see him. And he has Hawk with him?”
His schedule momentarily forgotten, Liam rounded his desk and thanked his sister, heading out to the front of the small office building. “Paul!” He greeted the short, stocky man with a combo handshake and hug, getting one in return.
“How are you, Liam?” the other man asked, his dark eyes gleaming and warm smile in place.
“Fantastic,” he said, meaning it for the first time in years. “And how’s this hound of yours?”
Hawk stood at perfect attention, a glorious Malinois with nothing but heart. Liam had trained Paul and Hawk about two years ago, and the men shared an instant friendship and bond over the dog. That bond was why Liam had felt so comfortable digging around for information on a family in Paul’s community, but he’d never expected an in-person response.
“I thought you’d call if you had anything to tell me,” Liam said after he gave Hawk some affection and a treat.
“I had a few days off and really wanted to come and see Waterford again. Training Hawk here was so great. And…” He lifted his brow. “We might be in the market for another dog for the department. Any good trainees for possible sale?”
“Fritz,” he said instantly. “I do have a good dog for you. I don’t have a ton of time today, but—”
Paul waved it off. “I’m in town for a few days, but I really wanted to talk in person about the subject you mentioned.” He lifted his brows to indicate he wanted confidentiality, despite the empty reception area.
“Come on back.” Liam gestured toward his office. “You want to bring Hawk or let him chill in the training area?”
“He never leaves me,” Paul said on a laugh. “Just like you trained him.”
“Good boy.” Liam gave the dog a scratch and took them back to his small office, offering coffee, which Paul turned down.
“So, what’s up with this Scott family?” Liam asked as he sat at his desk and Paul settled in the lone guest chair.
“Nothing on the family, Liam. Nadine and Jefferson Senior are both deceased. Their house, which is huge, sits empty, and the sister, Nora? No idea where she is.”
Liam knew where she was, or at least where she’d been lately. But he just looked at Paul, sensing there was more to the story.
“It’s this Jeff Scott, the son, who has the interesting background.”
Liam inched back in surprise. “He’s dead.”
Paul nodded slowly. “And that case remains open.”
“What case? He drove off an icy road in the mountains two years ago.”
“And a witness saw another car cause the accident, but that other car has never been found.”
“Hit-and-run?” Liam guessed. Paul gave his head a grim shake, and Liam exhaled. “He was murdered?”
“No one knows, but it hasn’t yet been ruled an accident. His body burned so badly forensics was damn near impossible, though he was ID’d by next of kin. I talked to the sheriff in Wytheville, where the accident happened, and they’re still looking for a navy blue Chevy pickup that someone saw at the scene, but that someone…” He pulled out a small notebook. “Joseph Higgins, was shot and killed, with no leads in his death.”
A cold sweat tingled at Liam’s neck. “So someone killed Jeff and then killed a witness?” He could barely say the words as he tried to imagine how Andi would take this news. Not well. “Any suspects? Motive?”
“Some of both,” Paul said, flipping through his book. “Which brings me to Interpol.”
“Interpol?” He leaned over the desk. “Why the hell would European law enforcement be involved?”
“Because Mr. Scott was suspected of being involved with some pretty shady characters over there, possibly involved with the sale of antiquities on the black market. They were close to bringing down one German art theft ring in particular, but it split up and went underground three years ago. Jeff Scott had disappeared off the face of the continent and stayed off the radar until he was killed two years ago.”
Disappeared and reappeared in Bitter Bark, North Carolina, claiming to want to be a father again, using his ex for a safe place to hide.
Bile and fury rose in Liam’s throat when he thought about the scum being anywhere near Andi and Christian.
“Is that art crime investigation still open?” Liam asked.
“Definitely. They arrested a few people and I can tell you those individuals had some not-so-nice things to say about Jeff Scott. He might have tried to cheat the wrong people out of money, which could mean someone from that ring closed on Scott, found him, and…” Paul lifted a shoulder. “Got rid of him.”
“So you think that’s who might have killed him? People who were involved with art crimes in Germany?”
“That would be my guess. So, now I’m helping on this open case and you have information. Can I interview you on the record and the woman you said he was involved with?”
Liam swallowed. “I married that woman on Saturday.”
“Oh.” Dark eyebrows rose. “Well, congratulations.” He didn’t sound entirely enthusiastic, but Liam ignored it.
“Why wouldn’t the authorities have already talked to her?” Liam asked. “She has no idea that Jeff’s death wasn’t an accident or that he was involved in art crimes.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely,” he said without hesitation. “Jeff’s the father of her six-year-old son. But this will all be news to her.”
“And she’ll be news to them. No one in Interpol and, my guess would be the thieves either, know that this woman exists or that Scott had a kid. So now the authorities will very much want to talk to her.”
Liam nodded. “I’m sure she’ll help.” After she came to terms with this mind-blowing news. “As I mentioned, his family is trying to get custody of her son, who’s inherited a trust fund worth six million dollars.”
Paul’s eyes flickered, the way a really good law enforcement officer silently said, Oh, is that so? without giving away too much. “Well, I assume since you know her well enough to marry her that you would know if she’d been party to—”
“Party to?” Liam’s voice tightened. “She’s not party to anything.”
“How long have you known her, Liam?”
“Three years.”
He frowned, the math not adding up. “So you must have known the dead guy.”
“I met him in passing, yeah. I was seeing her before he came back from Europe.”
“And again, after he died.” Paul’s statement was direct enough to put Liam on edge.
“We’ve only been together…briefly.” Liam shifted in his seat. “Kind of had a, well, surprise wedding on Saturday.”
Paul tried, and failed, to hide his amusement. “Can’t say I’ve ever heard of a surprise wedding.”
Son of a bitch. “Paul, it started as me helping her out. With this custody battle, she was under the microscope for her mothering, which, by the way, is flawless, so we thought if we got married, it would…” His voice faded as Paul’s expression shifted from amused to, well, not amused.
“So she married you to fend off a custody battle?”
He made it sound so heartless and cold when it was anything but. Liam looked away to gather his thoughts, but his gaze landed on the clock. Damn. He was going to be late to pick up Christian.
“Paul, I gotta go. But I really do want to talk to you, and I know Andi will, too. Tomorrow?”
Paul nodded slowly, clearly not thrilled with that, but too good of a friend to go bad cop on him.
“How well do you know her, Liam?” he asked as he quietly closed his notebook.
Intimately. Completely. Inside and out. At least…for the last week. “Well enough to know she is completely in the dark and will help you in any way possible. Well enough to know that learning her ex might have been murdered will upset her so much, I’d like to break it to her gently.”
Paul nodded slowly, getting up. “Oh, and one last thing.”
Good God, what now? “Yeah?”
“Have you ever seen anything that looks like this in her house? Or your house? Wherever she lives since you, uh, got married.”
Liam ignored the subtle dig and looked at a small pencil and watercolor sketch of a brown and gold box with a strange triangular top. “No, I…”
Wait a second. He’d seen it that morning. He’d gone into her office where he’d left some shirts hanging in the closet and noticed the bizarre-looking box on a shelf above her drafting table, certain he’d never seen it before.
“Yes?” Paul urged, obviously sensing his hesitation.
“I’m not sure,” he said, clinging to the fact that he really wasn’t sure. It might have been the same box…or not. “What is it?”
“Priceless,” Paul answered. “It has never been photographed and may or may not actually exist. But one of the suspects who’s been arrested in Germany claims he was with Scott when this was found during some restoration construction, and then the box and Jeff Scott disappeared days later.”
“Maybe he worked out a deal with this ring of thieves.”
“Or maybe he didn’t. Which might be why he dropped off the face of the earth.” Paul added a wry smile. “Literally.”
Liam’s heart kicked harder, but he wasn’t willing to say a thing until he talked to Andi, who, he had no doubt, hadn’t known about Jeff’s troubles. “Well, I gotta go get Christian.”
“Her kid?” Paul asked.
Irritation he’d never expected to feel toward this man skittered up his spine when it was obvious he thought Andi was somehow involved. “My stepson,” he answered, ushering Paul out before he could ask another question.
He got Jag, piled him into the truck, and broke a few speed limits on the way to Christian’s school.
But he didn’t call Andi. Telling her this was something that had to be done in person.