and gallery galas, when artists are booked in town or rumored to be giving private showings in a remote location. It’s been fun researching, making calls and being on the cutting edge of the international art scene.
I click through, trying to figure out his complicated calendar. There are different color codes for travel, business meetings, personal appointments – and it goes back for years, too.
I pause. All his past travel and appointments are right here in the schedule. If Lennox is right, then those dates would match the other heists. I could check right now, but somehow that feels like a betrayal. Like I’m saying the accusations could be true.
I sit there, torn. The information I need is right at my fingertips, yet I just can’t bring myself to check. What if Lennox is right?
But what if he’s wrong – and you can prove it, a voice argues. If St. Clair’s schedule doesn’t fit with the heists, then that’s all the evidence I need to put Lennox’s crazy theories aside and move on.
I can’t go on like this, suspecting but not sure. I need an answer.
My heart racing, I click through to last year. Lennox mentioned a heist in Belgium, and a quick Google search brings up the details of the crime. May 18th, Brussels. Gold bars stolen from a vault, no suspects, no witnesses.
I turn back to St. Clair’s schedule, my fingers dancing over the keys, but I waver. Is this crossing the line? What about trust, giving him the benefit of the doubt?
That’s exactly why I need to do this—to give him the benefit of the doubt and prove once and for all that he couldn’t possibly have done what Lennox thinks.
My pulse races. I check St. Clair’s calendar.
May 10th to 20th - Belgium. New investor meetings, touring a tech facility, meeting local business leaders.
Brussels.
My heart sinks, but I try to ignore it. This could be a coincidence.
I check the other dates. A diamond theft in Monaco. Rare art stolen in Rio. And every time, St. Clair’s travel plans match the heists. He was right there in the country when they all went down, with the perfect cover every time.
I stare at the screen in disbelief. My heart is still telling me this is wrong, some mistake, but the evidence doesn’t lie.
It all matches up. St. Clair, and the heists. They’re connected.
I feel a pain shoot through my chest.
How could I have been so naïve? To think that I believed in St. Clair, and the whole time he was lying to my face.
It’s all lies.
I don’t know what to do. I reach into my purse and find Nick Lennox’s card.
My hands are shaking as I dial his number. He answers on the first ring. “Grace, I was hoping you would call. What can I do for you?”
I swallow back my tears. “I think we need to talk.”
CHAPTER 12
I don’t sleep all night, tossing and turning for hours, and when I do manage to catch a wink, I dream of St. Clair. But instead of my usual sexy dreams, these are more like nightmares: chasing him down a long road, calling out his name, but he never turns around. I wake up feeling lost and full of dread. No amount of concealer can cover my under-eye circles, but I have to go into the office and pretend that everything is normal, at least until I figure out what the hell I can do next.
I set a meeting with Lennox at one, and the minutes tick by painfully slow. I try to concentrate on my work as usual: setting St. Clair’s schedule and making calls to arrange upcoming viewings, but all I can think about is everything I’ve discovered. The travel plans, the dates of the other heists… All the evidence points to St. Clair being a criminal, but the one thing I can’t understand is, why?
Why steal things he can easily afford? Why risk a lifetime in prison just for…what? I don’t buy Lennox’s “in it for the thrill” motivation. St. Clair enjoys risk, yes, but always for a purpose. What could he possibly want with those paintings he couldn’t show off or enjoy?
“Staring at a great piece of art?” St. Clair pops his head into my office. I jump, and slam my laptop shut. He’s smiling at me, totally relaxed. “You’re so cute when you’re focused.”
I force myself to smile. “Uh…hi,” I stutter. “Just quadruple checking my list for the student art show.” My hands are shaking so