Chapter Twenty-Nine
Eric had slept like a log the previous night and that probably had something to do with finally being home with Anya. Strangely, he felt much stronger today. He supposed it might have had something to do with all the food that Anya had been feeding him. She’d tempted him with everything he enjoyed, he’d realized at lunch today, when she’d served food she must have ordered from the Inn. He’d wolfed down shrimp and scallops along with some delicious cheesy potatoes, and he was feeling stuffed, yet again.
“Tonight, we’re having steaks and potatoes on the grill,” she said.
“I’m not going to just reach my required weight, I’m probably going to end up fat and lazy, and won’t want to work out when it’s time,” he said. “I’m sure you noticed that I wasn’t too enthusiastic about finding a place to stay in shape when I was here for Christmas. I paid for it when I returned to duty.”
She laughed. “How do the ribs feel today? I guess we should rewrap them after you’ve taken a bath.”
“I’ve noticed you’ve made big changes in that master bath.”
“I used some of your money for that,” she admitted, grinning. “After you were injured, I thought the whirlpool tub would be a good idea and Brian and Ashley agreed.”
“You know that I’m probably going to have to go back eventually, Anya. I just hope I can manage to get assigned to a base in the States. My injuries might prevent me from continuing in rescue work. I’ll have to see.”
She shrugged. “I understand. I won’t complain about something I can’t change, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
Eric suddenly laughed. “I love you.”
“The feeling is definitely mutual,” she replied.
* * *
Once Eric was asleep, taking a nap, Anya came to a decision. It was time to move forward and fill Jake in on her thoughts about the paintings that had sold at the auction before Christmas.
But first, she would try and confirm what she thought she was going to find when she looked closely at the painting that Eric had purchased for Ashley and Brian at Christmas. She remembered how thrilled they’d been when they’d opened the package and they had it hanging above an accent table in the living room.
Hopefully, they wouldn’t be any less impressed by the painting if Anya discovered she was right about what she might find once she studied it thoroughly.
Pulling her phone from her jeans pocket, she switched it on, hitting a number on speed dial.
“Hi, Ashley,” Anya said quietly when she answered.
“Anya? Is everything alright?” Ashley asked.
“Everything’s fine, Ash. How are you feeling?”
“Good. We’re all looking forward to tonight. It’ll be great to see Eric.”
“We’re really looking forward to it too. It’ll feel like Christmas again.” She cleared her throat. “So, I’ve got a favor to ask. Remember how we were talking about the paintings here in the studio upstairs back in January?”
“I do.”
“I think I might know the artist who painted yours.”
“Do you think it’s your sister, Anya?” Ashley asked after a moment of silence.
“I do.” She heaved a sigh. “And if I’m right, there could be something that the painting might tell us. How would you feel about bringing it with you tonight so that I can take a closer look?”
“You mean there’s a mystery involved? That sounds exciting. Of course, we’ll bring it. I’d love to have you look it over if you think it’s got something to say,” she replied.
“Thank you,” Anya said, feeling relieved. Now that she’d decided to move forward, she wanted to get this over with quickly.
“This is about something important, isn’t it, Anya?”
“It is, Ash,” she replied. “If I discover what I think I might, it could answer some of the most important questions of my life along with many others.”
* * *
Eric insisted on resting on the couch in the living room, so the rest of the time, Anya made him sit in the wheelchair that had shown up this morning, courtesy of the wounded warrior home.
“It doesn’t mean that you get to be lazy longer. They only sent it over to make it a little easier for me to help you get around,” she muttered.
“This will be nice. I’d rather sit up and eat in the kitchen with you in the morning. It normalizes things.” He sighed. “I feel so much better already. I have a feeling it’s because you keep shoveling food into my mouth.”
She grinned. “I don’t hear you complaining.”
“How can I, when you’re giving me everything I love to eat?” he muttered.
Anya laughed. “I see you caught on to me.”
Another hour later, Ashley, Brian and Arielle were sitting outside on the patio, along with Eric, who’d insisted on sitting in the wheelchair and getting fresh air. Currently, he was watching Arielle, who was running and falling onto the soft grass after apparently starting to walk back in February, right after Eric had left town.
Eric held out his arms, and Arielle climbed right onto his lap. She wasn’t too thrilled when he hugged her tightly, but he did it anyway.
Anya was looking at him with tears in her eyes, he realized when he rested Arielle back on the ground so that she could keep running around. It was definitely a sign that she was still worried about his injuries. Eric had to admit that besides a one time through and through when he was hit with a bullet three years earlier through the fleshy part of his thigh, this was the worst he’d ever been injured so far.
Anya had put the steaks on the grill, but Brian decided that he wanted to help and was there flipping them now.
“These look great, Anya. And they’re huge. Thank you,” Brian said.
“Of course. You guys have done so much for us,” she answered.
“You won’t give us a clue about why you want to take a closer look at that painting?” Brian asked.
Eric’s ears perked up. “What’s that? What painting?”
“That painting of their house from the auction that you surprised them with for Christmas,” Anya said. “I’m not sure that I told you, but I mentioned to Ashley that Shanna was a talented young artist. My grandmother always said so, but I assumed Shanna was bored when she quit visiting my grandmother.”
“I think these are done,” Brian said.
“Time to eat,” Ashley said, grinning as Brian started scooping the steaks from the grill.
“You’re not going to leave us hanging, are you?” Eric asked. “I want to know what’s going on. What’s up with the painting?”
“It can wait until after dinner,” Anya replied. “I need to take a little time to check it out first, to see if I’m right.”
When Eric groaned, everyone laughed.
Another forty minutes later, Arielle was dozing in the playpen that Anya had picked up earlier this summer. It was nice to have it handy when she babysat.
While everyone sat and ate dessert, Anya reached for the painting that she’d left on the dining table earlier.
With the painting in hand, Anya made a quick announcement. “Okay, I have a loupe upstairs in the art studio. I’ll take the painting upstairs and take a good look at it now, and then I’ll return in about twenty minutes.”
“I want to know what’s going on,” Eric muttered, frowning.
Anya walked over and kissed him gently on the cheek. “You’ll have to wait with everyone else, I’m afraid. If I’m right, we’ll need to get in touch with Jake.”
Suddenly, everyone’s expression turned serious.
“I’ll be back soon,” she said, climbing up the staircase.
Another ten minutes later, Anya laid the painting back down, her eyes filled with tears. Luckily, Jake would have records of all the other paintings in this same collection that had been sold. He wouldn’t necessarily have to confiscate them, but he would have to take samples of some of the materials used in the paint.
“But wait a minute,” she muttered. “I wonder…”
Anya inspected the paint again closely, reaching for some plastic forceps included in the artist’s kit she was using. Gently, she peeled away a layer of what appeared to be paint, but was in fact something far more disturbing, realizing it had been artificially applied to the upraised layer beneath with some type of special adhesive that allowed it to cling to the oils without damaging the paint. “Shanna you’re a master artist. How in the world did you learn how to do these things?”
Anya walked downstairs with the painting in hand and the loupe and forceps in her pocket, carrying a small easel.
“Well?” Ashley asked, biting her lip.
“I was right,” Anya confessed. After placing the easel on the coffee table and resting the painting against it, she walked over to the buffet across the room, reaching inside one of the drawers for the powerful flashlight she’d left inside earlier.
“Here’s the first thing I’d like you to see,” Anya said, turning on the flashlight and placing it in front of the easel.
She gripped the painting, gently inching it left and then right, so it could be hit by the light.
Ashley gasped. “Is that a hologram I see?”
“That’s exactly what it is, Ash,” Anya said grimly. “I found the special materials upstairs in the supply closet that can be used to create them in artwork.”
Eric peered closely. “It looks like heads of women and children, all of them screaming.”
Brian cleared his throat, his eyes going wide. “Anya? Why does that paint look so clumpy? Do I see pieces of hair mixed inside the paint?”
“It seems morbid, doesn’t it?” Anya’s eyes filled with tears. “I suspect there’s not just hair mixed in, but pieces of bone. It’s been carefully applied onto some special holographic images on tape, which has been strategically placed over the oil paint on the canvas.” She pulled out the forceps, carefully resting the painting flat on the table, gently lifting the edge of one of the pieces of tape to demonstrate. “See? The painting itself still remains undamaged beneath. Doing something like this requires some serious patience and skills.”
Eric looked horrified. “But why?”
“I believe that it was Shanna who painted these, and this was her way of providing DNA of those who’d been trafficked and probably killed. I also believe that every painting she’s provided for us are places where she’s been that trafficking has occurred. I think that she was the one who removed some items from my office before I noticed things were missing in January. I don’t know why Shanna would be freed and not come forward since she knows we’ve been trying to find her, but I believe that she took some photos from the pin up wall that Mom had left there. She’s painting all these old homes from the pictures Mom took of the houses she investigated after Shanna disappeared. Most of these houses had been left abandoned before they were restored.”
There was a long silence afterwards before Anya began to cry.
Eric wheeled the chair over to where she was standing, tugging her onto his lap and into his arms.
Brian cleared his throat again. “I’m going to go give Jake a call, guys. Okay?”
“Thank you,” Eric replied hoarsely.