“Nothing that would lead us to where they’re keeping the girls. Why?”
“Just curious.” She frowned, her brain going faster than she could keep up with. When the meeting ended, Chloe blinked and realized she’d missed the end of it. About to ask Blake to fill her in, she snapped her lips shut when everyone stood and started to file out of the room.
Blake placed a hand on her arm. “I’m on Alessandro Russo duty today. The judge is covered with undercover officers posing as friends of the family. News crews got aerial footage of his ‘body’ being put into the back of the coroner’s vehicle and taken to the morgue. It looks good, but we’re going to have to move fast.”
“What’s our next step? I missed it.”
“Jo and I are going to focus on Russo and—”
Her phone buzzed. “Hold that thought,” she told him, then lifted her phone. “Hello?”
“Need you and Hank on a traffic stop. Drugs suspected.”
“Address?”
The dispatcher passed it along to her and she wrote it down on the pad still on the conference table. “Got it. ETA is about ten minutes.”
“I’ll let the officer know.”
Chloe hung up. “I’ve got to go. Keep me updated.”
“I will. You do the same.”
She nodded, clicked to Hank, and they headed for her vehicle.
Nine minutes later, she pulled to a stop behind two state troopers and a woman wearing a tank top and gym shorts in the fifty-degree weather. Chloe guessed the drugs were probably in the car and not on the woman.
Although, she’d been surprised before.
A man in his late twenties leaned against the car, his wrists cuffed behind him. Chloe left her red lights turning and climbed out.
When she had Hank beside her, she approached the others. The two state troopers were good buddies of Brady’s. “Hi guys, what do we have?”
“Not sure. That’s what Hank’s going to tell us.”
Chloe nodded and walked the dog over to the vehicle.
“Hey, there’s nothing in there,” the woman said. “You’re, like, violating our rights or something. I want a lawyer.”
Chloe raised a brow. The trooper nearest her, James Kincaid, held up a baggie that contained a joint. “Was in her right front pocket.”
“Gotcha.” She looked at the woman. “Probable cause. No rights violated.”
“It’s just one joint,” the woman said. “That’s it. There’s nothing else.”
Chloe scratched Hank’s ears. “Hank, find the dope.”
The dog went to work and in short order found an entire stash of joints and wads of cash in a hidden compartment in the trunk.
“Wow,” Chloe said. “Looks like your instincts were right on. Probably five or ten grand there. Plus whatever the drugs are worth.”
“Yep. Nice work, Chloe. Good job, Hank.” James rubbed the dog’s head and Chloe handed him his toy after she put him in his area of the vehicle.
Once the troopers had cleared out with their prisoners, Chloe sat on the side of the road thinking.
The auction was still niggling in the back of her mind. What was it? Something she’d seen. Something that she couldn’t put her finger on but needed to.
She sighed. It would come to her. In the meantime, she had an idea she wanted to check out.
Fifteen minutes later, she pulled in front of the art museum where Ethan Wright’s work was being showcased. The auction was to be held later this evening, but already people were there, eager to pick out which painting they planned to bid on. Chloe turned to Hank. “You get to stay here, my friend.” She poured water into his bowl and scratched his ears. “I won’t be long.”
She went to the back of the vehicle and grabbed her “go bag.” Never sure where she would be from one moment to the next, she always carried several changes of clothing with her. In the bathroom of the restaurant across the street, she changed into khaki slacks, a pale pink shirt, and white blazer to hide her weapon she now sheathed in the shoulder holster.
Stashing her bag back in the vehicle, she paused a moment. What was bugging her? As she glanced at a car that had parked several spaces away, a flash blipped across the screen of her mind. She’d seen that car somewhere before. It wasn’t exactly a popular model in Columbia. Only the very wealthy or the deeply in debt could afford a Mercedes like that. So. Where had she seen it?
The security footage of the SUV in the parking garage. The guy in the sedan. It was just like the one that had pulled to a stop in the parking garage. The driver and Ethan Wright had had a conversation. He’d asked for directions. There’d been a background check on him and it’d been clean. The details were coming back to her. His name was Atkinson, maybe? She snapped a picture of the car.
She stepped inside the building and simply wandered for a few moments, getting the feel for the place. Wright’s paintings were prominently displayed just as she’d figured they would be.
She approached the first painting. “Number 7,” she said and glanced at the man standing next to her. “What’s the process for bidding on one of these?”
His eyes raked her, then narrowed. “There’s an app. Download it.”
“What’s it called?”
“It’s under the name of the museum.”
“Thanks,” she murmured. She continued her stroll, wanting to get away from his eyes. If she had to be in his presence too often, she’d like to do a background check on him. With a grimace, she ignored him and continued looking at each painting, taking in the details, the sheer talent. “Amazing,” she whispered.
“I know,” a voice said behind her. “I can’t believe he’s gone. And just as he was about to break through into the big time. Such a shame.”
Chloe turned to find a woman in her late twenties gazing at the picture. “Take that one,” she said. “The waves are angry, lashing out at the shore, frothing and writhing in fury. It’s one of his darker ones and I can’t help but wonder what was going through his head at the time he painted it.”
“You knew him?”
“In passing. I have some of my art on display here as well.” She frowned.
“What is it?”
She gave a light shrug. “Nothing really. Ethan was an odd one. He had so much talent, but it was like he didn’t really care.”
Because he was making more money in the human trafficking arena?
“Did he ever say why he didn’t care?” Chloe asked.
“No. And I could be wrong. We didn’t talk that much. He would show up for the shows and be all charming and sell most of his stuff, then he’d just disappear until the next show.”
“And that’s unusual?”
“Very. Artists aren’t like most people. We’re just wired different. Which is why we like to hang out with others who are wired the same way. Usually, we meet once or twice a week to work or talk about the latest artistic medium, get feedback on a painting, whatever. Ethan wasn’t ever interested in being a part of the group.”
“Maybe he just didn’t need that like others.”
“Maybe. Then again, I know he spent a lot of time in Charleston. His uncle has a huge party yacht docked at one of the ports. I always hoped Ethan would issue an invitation, but he never did.”
“Hmm. Interesting.”
She rolled her eyes. “Weird.” Then laughed. “I’m Serene, by the way.”
“Serene?”
“Yes, it’s my actual birth name.”
“I like it.”
“Thanks.” She sighed. “Well, I suppose I need to go mingle. Maybe I can talk someone into buying art from a living artist instead of one who’s no longer with us.”
“I wish you all the best.”
Serene smiled and glided away on silent feet. Chloe grimaced. She’d never been that graceful in her life.
She pulled her phone from her pocket and tapped in a group text to the task force agents.
At the museum where Wright’s auction is happening tonight. Check out his connections to an uncle in Charleston. Has a “party yacht” docked somewhere. No reason other than Ethan Wright appeared to spend a lot of time there. No other info. Will text if I get more.
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