“Grandmother’s.”
“Pardon?” the director asked.
“My great-great-great-grandfather purchased this desk, but it was my late grandmother who truly owned it.”
“I see,” the man said with a solemn nod.
“Where’s that artist, Duncan?” Garrett asked, and the director began to squirm.
“I’m sure she’ll be right along.”
“You’re the director of this facility. Go find her,” Garrett snapped.
“Of course, sir. Right away.”
Kat watched in silence as the man from the museum scurried through the swinging doors, leaving Hale and Garrett alone among the paint and the brushes.
“Why are we here?” Hale sounded like he was mid-con and playing a bored and elusive billionaire. Then Kat had to remind herself he wasn’t playing.
“I told you, Scooter. Hale Industries has a significant presence in Europe. It’s important for you to at least put in an appearance at the London headquarters.”
“No.” Hale took a deep breath. “Why are we here?” He held out his arms and gestured at the walls and shelves covered with priceless paintings and delicate sculptures. He sat on a workbench as the man looked down on him and gave a condescending smile.
“Well, it’s the finest museum in the world.”
“I know.”
“Oh, I know you do,” Garrett said, and for a split second, Kat wondered exactly what he was saying. She watched Hale, but the words didn’t seem to register with him.
“You’re an important man now, Scooter. You have responsibilities.”
“Isn’t that why I have you?”
“Well, yes.” Garrett laughed a little. “I guess it is.”
Hale stood and reached for the desk, ran his hand along the small section that Kat had been examining only moments before.
“What is it?” Garrett asked.
“I did that,” Hale said, pointing to the flaw that had been filled with putty.
“You carved into an original Petrovich?”
“Hazel told me to,” Hale countered. “I was…I don’t know…six or seven and she gave me a knife—told me that that was where H would mark the spot.”
For a moment, Hale’s trustee was quiet. Then he jerked his head toward the door. “Why don’t you go check on Duncan, Scooter? Make sure he brings that woman back. This is your grandmother’s desk. We can’t have it damaged further.”
When Hale left, Kat felt frozen, watching as Garrett walked around the desk, studying the ornate carvings. She couldn’t breathe as the man turned the piece of the desk where Hale had pointed. A small hidden drawer opened with an ominous pop. To Kat, it sounded like a bubble bursting as a narrow piece of molding slid away from the rest of the desk, and the man reached inside and pulled out a pile of papers held together by a single clip. Quickly, he slipped them into an interior pocket of his suit coat.
“He’s got it,” Kat said.
“What?” Gabrielle asked. “No, Angus, you need to get out of the garden! I’m sorry, Kat. What were you—”
“He’s got it. Garrett has the will.” The words were almost for herself, because, in that moment, the girl who always had a plan had absolutely no idea what to do. Options and alternatives swirled in her mind, but before she could do a single thing, Director Duncan appeared at the doorway, Hale at his side.
“She’s on her way, Mr. Garrett,” the director said, but Garrett no longer seemed interested.
Instead, he spoke directly to the boy. “Come, Scooter, we’ve seen enough. We’ll get out of your way, Mr. Duncan.”