Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
Dan sat on the couch, picked up the copy of the Kama Sutra from where he’d left it, and held it, his eyes closed.
“I take it you know something.”
Dan brought a finger to his lips. “Give me a minute, please.” He could hear Gary’s breathing, as erratic as his own, and he forced himself to calm down, concentrating on the beat of his heart, his focus locked on the book.
“It’s here, I know it is,” he murmured. That surge of knowledge he’d felt in the bedroom was dissipating as the seconds ticked by, and Dan strove to cling to it.
Show me. You’ve got me this far, now show me.
His body ached in the most pleasurable way, and Gary’s musky scent insinuated itself into his nostrils, distracting him, tugging him back to the bed.
That will have to wait.
“What’s here?” Gary demanded.
Dan opened his eyes. He lifted the front cover and turned every page. When he reached the back, he paused, his hand on the inside back cover.
Wait….
He looked closer, stroking the cover with the tips of his fingers, his heart thumping. He gazed at Gary. “This lining paper…. It’s not the same as it is at the front of the book.” He ran his finger down the spine, and his heart went into overdrive. “Have you got a pair of tweezers?”
Without a word, Gary dashed to the bathroom. When he returned, he knelt on the rug beside the couch, holding out the delicate metal tool. “Why do you need tweezers?”
Dan showed him the inside back cover. “Look. Someone glued paper over the original back lining.” His senses told him that someone was Cheryl.
“But why?”
Dan pointed to the edge of the paper closest to the spine. “This is open. I felt it when I ran my fingers over it.” He slid the ends of the tweezers into the slit and caught his breath. “There’s something inside.” With great care he eased the object from its hiding place, and—
And there you are.
Dan held up the color photo for Gary to see.
Cheryl Somers lay in a bed, naked from the waist up, and she wasn’t alone.
Gary gazed at it. “She looks so beautiful. So happy.”
Dan examined it once more. Cheryl’s long hair flowed over her pillow, and a white sheet lay over her, below her navel.
Judging by the angle of the photo, the camera had to have been on a nightstand.
A man’s arm was draped over her, his hand cupping her left breast, his face buried in a pillow, hidden from sight.
Dan stared at him. “This has to be the person she was keeping secret. The mystery lover.” Then he looked closer, and his pulse sped up. “Do you have a magnifying glass?”
“Somewhere.” Gary was off again, only to return a moment later. “Here.” He thrust it at Dan, who peered at the photo.
His heart sank.
Hasn’t there always been a part of me that knew?
He sagged into the couch. “She probably took the photo on a timer. Maybe the camera was on her nightstand. But I don’t think he knew she took it.”
In fact, Dan was certain of it.
“Why do you say that?”
Dan sighed. “Because I don’t think he would have let her.” He pointed to the man’s hand, where there was a heavy-looking ring. “I’ve seen that before.”
Gary frowned. “Which one of them was wearing it? Aiden Reynolds, Paul DiFanetti?”
“Neither.” Dan looked him in the eye. “Senator William Cain.”
Gary gaped at him. “How can you be sure?”
“He wore that ring in Cheryl’s portraits of him, and he was wearing it the day we met him in Boston.”
“The senator… and Cheryl?”
He set his jaw. “We need to talk to him. And not in Boston. Or in Nantucket. It has to be at the house in Lenox.”
Gary’s brow furrowed. “You can’t tell if they’re in a bedroom at the senator’s house. Not that we saw any of them.”
Dan shook his head. “This has nothing to do with a bedroom. We need to see his art room again.”
“Why?”
Dan picked up the folder containing the Caravaggio photos and negatives.
“Because there’s a mystery here, and I need to solve it.
So call him first thing in the morning. If you can’t reach him, then leave a message, email him, whatever…
. But insist he comes to Lenox tomorrow, or Friday at the latest.” As an afterthought, he added, “Maybe this time he should leave Mrs. Cain behind.”
And as suddenly as illumination had overtaken him, it fled, leaving him bereft of energy. He put his head back on the seat cushion.
“I don’t think I can move,” he said, half joking.
Gary grabbed his hands and tugged, pulling him to his feet. “That’s probably a combination of all the gymnastics you got up to—mental and physical. So let’s go back to bed.” He gave a rueful smile. “I don’t think we’re going to be getting up to much now. Well, I know I’m not.”
Dan stilled. “Are you okay?” He remembered his first time.
Gary bit his lip. “I’m fine. And very thankful.”
Warmth rushed through him. “I didn’t do all that much.”
Amusement danced in Gary’s eyes. “I wasn’t referring to you—though you were awesome, don’t get me wrong.”
“Then what are you thankful for?”
That twinkle in his eyes was so attractive.
“Lube.”
Dan laughed, and they headed back to their bed. Despite the sated feeling that stole over him, he couldn’t shake off his discovery.
“He lied to us,” he murmured as they climbed into bed and Gary covered them with the sheet.
“Not so much a lie as an omission.”
Dan shook his head. “It amounts to the same thing. And it also tells us something important about the senator, something we should have realized.”
“What’s that?”
“He’s a damn good actor. Isn’t that a basic requirement for a politician? And if he could hide their relationship so convincingly, what else is he hiding?”
He didn’t want to believe the senator capable of murder, not after sensing all the emotion inside him when he spoke of Cheryl.
He couldn’t fake that—could he?