He was truly upset. Whether it was about the loss of life or the loss of profit, she couldn’t decide.
“Now, please,” he said, “come enjoy the rest of the auction. I’ll be sure to lock this room so no one else wanders astray.”
“Yes. Do that. And thank you.”
“Of course.”
His cultured voice held an undertone of steel and Chloe figured he was more than capable of cleaning up the mess he’d been left with. Was that true or was he just feeding her a line? Something to distract her and take her attention from him and his gallery?
Ethan had been one of his artists. No doubt he had some kind of file or something in his office. She hoped he still used a file cabinet and didn’t have everything computerized. That might make what she was planning a bit more difficult.
Chloe tracked the man as he turned on the charm and began to greet the people who would drop a lot of money on Wright’s pieces in a couple of hours.
When she was sure he had lost interest in keeping up with her, she slipped through the growing crowd to the hallway. With a glance to the left, then to the right, and back over her shoulder just to double-check, she strolled through the area Bryce had come from the day she and Blake had first talked to him.
“Can I help you?”
She turned to find the young man who’d been behind the reception desk. Neal. No last name surfaced in her memory. “No, I’m fine, thanks. Just checking out the paintings.” Fortunately for her, the walls of the hallway held several pieces of amazing artwork.
“Those aren’t for sale, you know.”
His superior attitude irked her. “Yes, but I can still appreciate beauty even if it’s not for sale, can’t I?”
“Ah, yes. Well . . .” He tilted his head toward the crowd. “If you’ll excuse me?”
“Of course. It’s been a lovely visit, but I guess I should get back to work.”
He started to leave, then turned back. “You’re a cop, right? You were here the other day.”
So, he recognized her even without the uniform. “I am. And I was.”
His gaze flicked past her then behind his shoulder. “Where’s your partner and dog?”
“The dog is my partner. But if you’re talking about the guy that was with me, he’s working on something else right now. I’m just here to appreciate the art.”
“Hmm. You really think you can afford anything on display?”
She raised a brow. “Wow. Judge much?”
He grimaced. “I know. You’re right. I’m sorry.”
Chloe frowned. She couldn’t get a read on the guy and that bothered her. Part of her wanted to say he was a harmless snob. Snob? Yes. Harmless? She wasn’t sure yet. “No problem.”
“Okay, enjoy the art. I’m going to mix and see if I can sell a painting or two. Commission, you know.”
She hadn’t known. But okay.
He walked away and she headed for the offices. Spying the cameras in the ceiling, she paused while pretending to study another painting. Should she risk it? Did they have someone monitoring them? It was possible.
The security guards had been stationed in the other area with the more expensive work. Hopefully, that would be where the cameras were aimed today because she was going to chance it.
She knocked on the nearest door and waited. No answer. She tried the handle. Locked. A breath hissed between her teeth. Of course. The door next to it was also locked. Rats.
Looking back over her shoulder, she pondered her next move. When her gaze landed on the empty desk Neal had occupied the day she and Blake had been here an idea sparked. More like a long shot. She really shouldn’t. It would be trespassing, and anything she found would be inadmissible in court. And if she were caught, she could be brought up on charges. But what if it helped her locate the girls?
Deciding it was worth the risk, Chloe hurried over to the desk, checked to make sure no one was looking, then ducked behind it. She opened the top drawer. “Well, well, what do you know?” she whispered.
Bingo. She snatched the keys and almost shut the drawer when her eyes landed on a picture of three boys. She pulled it out for a better look. One of the boys looked familiar, but she couldn’t place him. On the back, someone had written “Hopkins family.” She snapped a picture of both sides, then on silent feet, headed back to the office door, passing three newcomers who’d just stepped inside the museum. They ignored her and aimed their steps straight for the crowded gallery that held Wright’s paintings.
In front of the office marked Director, she tried the keys until one turned in the lock. “Thank you,” she whispered, then slipped inside and shut the door behind her. The office was large, probably twenty by fifteen, and held a desk with a leather chair, a laptop—and a file cabinet in the corner. A leather sofa sat against the far wall and a plush oriental rug covered most of the hardwood flooring between the sofa and the desk. Chloe moved to the file cabinet and opened the last drawer, labeled V–Z.
Quickly, she thumbed through the files, only to find nothing under Wright. “Of course. Couldn’t be that easy.” She turned to the desk and wiggled the mouse. Password protected. “Naturally.”
She set the office keys on the desk and looked at the open folder sitting on top of the scattered papers on the desk. Fleming wasn’t exactly the neatest freak in the place. With his uppity attitude and his perpetually curled upper lip, she would have figured him for one who thought everything had a place and everything should be in it. Then again, maybe he’d inherited the mess. But eight months seemed like enough time to get everything straight.
Shoving the folder aside, she found the flyer for the auction. Papers regarding sales of paintings, expense reports, and more. And something about a delivery to Charleston. To a port? Which one? She pulled the file folder closer and glanced at the door.
“What are you doing in here?”
Chloe flinched and looked up, pasting an innocent smile on her lips. “Oh, hello, Mr. . . . um, Neal, right? How are you?” She slipped a hand into her pocket and closed her fingers around her key fob. She didn’t like the look in his eyes.
He stepped into the office. “How did you get in here?”
“The door was unlocked.”
“No it wasn’t.” His focus dropped to the keys she’d placed next to the monitor. “Been snooping?”
She was so busted.
“Um. No, those were there, why?”
His eyes narrowed. “Are you looking for something?”
“Yes, you.”
The direct approach seemed to surprise him. “Well, you’ve found me. What did you need?”
“Do you know a young man by the name of Carson Langston?”
He stiffened. “No. Why?” His body language shouted liar.
Her question had been a shot in the dark, a desperate grasp at something. Bull’s-eye. “I think you do.”
“And I figured you were going to be trouble the first time I laid eyes on you. Because of you, Ethan had to die.”
Two of the security guards she’d noticed in the gallery area stepped into the room, weapons held at their sides. She noted the suppressors on each one. With a cold ball of fear growing in her gut, she knew they had experience in using them. She had the brief thought of going for her weapon, but decided she’d be dead before her fingers touched it.
“Now, are you going to come nicely?” Neal asked. “Or does this have to get ugly?”
Chloe pressed the button on the fob and released Hank from the vehicle. He’d be confused, but at least he wouldn’t be trapped. With a mixture of terror and determination, she realized she was going to find out exactly what happened to the girls and where they’d been taken—the hard way.