Her father sipping coffee, crossing a crowded Paris square.
Uncle Eddie sitting on a park bench in Brooklyn.
The people she most cared about were depicted there in black-and-white and the message was clear: Arturo Taccone knew how to find the people and things that were important to her, and if Kat didn’t do the same, he wouldn’t be the only one to lose something he loved.
For the first time in Katarina Bishop’s life, she truly understood that a picture is worth a thousand words.
Chapter 20
Kat was late coming home. To the Hale family’s country home, that is. Kat’s only home was a brownstone in New York, and the man who ruled that household had strictly forbidden her from doing what she was doing.
She felt the envelope of photographs rub against her bare stomach, where she’d tucked it beneath the waistband of her jeans. Hiding it. The foyer was big and cold and empty. Paintings of Hales long since dead and gone lined the hall. Kat imagined them keeping watch, waiting for some living breathing member of the family to come home.
Kat missed Uncle Eddie.
She suddenly craved soup.
She wanted to talk to her father.
She took a step and felt the envelope against her stomach again, and instantly, she wanted to call everyone she ever knew and tell them to scatter—to hide. But the only people she knew were professional thieves. They never stopped hiding.
“Angus, she’s back!” Hamish Bagshaw’s voice had changed, Kat was sure of it. He sat at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for her along the way.
As he chomped his gum and grinned, his brother stepped into the hallway, carrying a bowl of ice. “Brilliant,” Angus said.
Kat wanted to keep walking, but Angus stepped in front of her.
“We were hoping we might have a minute of your valuable time,” he said.
Hamish cast a quick glance down the empty hall and then added, “Alone.”
Angus was eleven months older than his brother, and slightly taller. They both had hair that was somewhere between red and blond, and skin that looked as if it might burn even on a cloudy day. Their shoulders were broad but their arms were scrawny, and Kat realized that they were still growing—that they were still a long way from being men.
“What is it?” Kat asked.
“We’ve been meaning to talk to you for a while about . . . well . . . recent unfortunate events, and we just wanted to say—”
“Wait.” Kat stopped him. “What recent unfortunate events?”
“Well . . .” Hamish started. “We had a bit of trouble on a job a while back.”
“In Luxembourg?” Kat asked.
“Did ol’ Hale tell you about that, then?” Hamish asked. “That was a right good con, that was—”
“Hamish!” Kat snapped. The brothers shook their heads.
“After Luxembourg,” Angus clarified.
“What—” Kat started, but Hamish was already throwing his arm around her, saying, “You know what I love about you, Kat?”
“Besides your beauty,” Angus interjected, even though, to Kat’s knowledge, neither of them had ever noticed she was female.
“Besides that,” Hamish confirmed with a nod.
“And your mind,” Angus added.
“A truly great mind,” Hamish agreed.