Chapter 19 #2
Lacy had planned her wedding from the time we were six years old, asking her mother to buy her the summer bridal magazine at the grocery checkout each May.
She would cut out veils and dresses, rearranging them and drawing herself wearing them.
It was her first foray into fashion, and it fueled her love of planning, which had served her well as a grown-up.
My heart sank as I realized how much Lacy was losing this weekend, despite my best attempts to help hold things together for her.
As Anton took his bride-to-be in his arms, Charlie darted to the door and looked both ways down the hall, his hand on the holster. When he saw that no one was following Anton, he turned to him. “Who were you running from?”
“I don’t know, but someone was following me when I went back to check on Lacy. I think it was the priest,” Anton answered.
Anton held Lacy close, letting her cry against him.
“I looked him up,” I said. “I have no idea why your mother is saying Todd Anderson is a member of the clergy, as I’m positive he’s not.”
He hung his head for a moment, processing the information.
“That makes sense. She wanted him here this weekend, and she needed to make him look legit. My mother would be embarrassed to bring a random man years younger than her to my wedding, but as a church-going lady, she would feel better about a man of the cloth. Plus, if he did the ceremony, we couldn’t ignore him.
It would guarantee he’d be part of the wedding in a big way.
” Anton raised his eyes to the ceiling, exhaled, and turned to Lacy.
“After I left you, I went go find my mother, to make sure nothing shady was going down this weekend, and then Todd—not a priest—showed up to her room just as I was leaving. I’m afraid he overheard us.
He didn’t look happy, and I could swear that I heard footsteps following me down the hall. That’s why I raced in here.”
I could see that Anton was relieved to have found us inside the room.
“What did your mom say?” Lacy asked, swiping at any mascara under her eyes as she returned to what mattered even more than the priest stalking Anton. “Is there something bad happening during our wedding weekend?”
When Anton hesitated, Lacy pulled away, eyes narrowing at him. They were rimmed with sleeplessness and her cheeks appeared sunken in the lamp light. It had been a long night, and it didn’t seem like it would get easier anytime soon.
“Anton,” Lacy said, sniffing back further tears and composing herself as he looked at her, shame in his eyes. “I need to know what’s happening. For me, it may…” she paused to consider her words before taking a deep breath and continuing, “it may affect what happens with us this weekend.”
Anton met her plaintive gaze, concern etched in the lines of his face. “Okay, but first, you’ve got to believe that my family and their business have nothing to do with me. I swear. Getting away from them was a definite perk when I decided to move to Aubergine.”
Lacy’s eyebrows dipped into a concerned V. “I thought you moved here because you wanted to be with me.”
“I did.” Anton sighed heavily. “I’m just saying that leaving them behind was a good thing too.”
Lacy swallowed back her frustration. “I hear you, but you still haven’t answered my question. What is your family planning this weekend?”
When Anton still seemed reluctant to speak, Charlie stepped forward. “Anton, it would be really good if you could tell us what you know.”
Anton closed his eyes for a few seconds before attempting to wipe away the fatigue. Then he lifted his head and met Lacy’s eyes first.
“I told you when we met that my family have been cattle ranchers for a hundred years, and even before that they were cowboys and ranch hands. At least that’s what I was raised to believe.
What I suspected but didn’t actually know much about until tonight was about the side business they’ve been running for years now. ”
As he said the words, I imagined the various members of his family and friends, including Bella Rivera, trading in their lassos for box cutters.
“It’s not what you’re thinking,” Anton said, looking from Lacy to me to Charlie before reconsidering. “Or maybe it is?” He shook his head, his expression one of betrayal and confusion. “Oh God, it could actually be really, really bad.”
“Why don’t you sit down?” Charlie suggested, motioning toward the low couch and wingback chairs arranged for cultural conversations—not late-night confessions.
Still, this small act of decency, of normalcy even, seemed to give Anton some kind of courage to finally tell us what he knew.
“My family traffics in…” Anton paused as if he still didn’t want to confess his family’s sins.
As he took a deep breath, my mind tried to fill in the end of the sentence. Guns? Drugs? People? Then, it hit me: the pamphlets, Charlotte’s conversation with Aunt DeeDee, Bella cutting out a painting and accidentally slashing Lacy’s dress in the process.
“Your family traffics in art,” I finished for Anton.
“That’s right.” Anton stared at me, surprised and a little relieved that he hadn’t been forced to say it first.
Lacy inhaled a sharp breath at the confession, and she pointed to the empty frame on the far wall. “Your ex-girlfriend has already left her mark.”
His eyes widened and Charlie stood and motioned for Anton to inspect the frame. Anton examined the edges where the thief had cut out the artwork. “Do you know what painting was hanging in here?”
“It was a snowscape of some kind,” I answered, a bit embarrassed that I had no idea about the pieces in my own home. “Likely by an artist named Anna Perry.”
“Was it an Impressionist piece?” Anton asked, as if he expected as much.
“I think so.” I fished the pamphlet from my pocket and showed him the Monet painting inside. “It looked similar to this one.”
“That’s their specialty.” Anton inhaled and let out a steadying breath.
He was realizing something—or confirming something he’d already known—in real time, and he needed a second to think.
He placed his elbows on his knees and his hands in the form of a prayer as he made eye contact with each of us again.
“Look, tonight my father cornered me after the bachelor party. He laid out a few details for me about my family’s business in the hopes that I would join them.”
“What happened to good, old-fashioned ranching?” Lacy asked, her voice raised.
“For my entire childhood, all they talked about was the price per head being down,” Anton answered.
I assumed by that he meant price per head of cattle, which made sense coming from a rural community.
“My father had been looking for another stream of income for years, and somehow—I still don’t know how—he stumbled into this line of work.
He trains and hires people to take paintings by minor artists, ones that won’t be missed for a while, ones that bring in a decent amount of money without raising worldwide alarms.”
I noticed the way Anton was trying to cage his words, using specific descriptions—stumbled instead of “embraced”, takes instead of “steals”, and classifying the artists as minor—to make his family’s crimes sound less terrible.
“And my mother…” Anton swallowed. “Apparently, she also does some light art forgery of these minor artists.”
“I thought your parents didn’t get along?” I asked, recalling our earlier conversation.
He lifted a shoulder. “Marriage is complicated.”
It certainly was.
“My dad seems to think this business will help make up for him cheating on her a few years ago.” Anton let out a deep breath.
“Anyway, stealing less important paintings allows us—or them—to stay under the radar of the FBI and other large agencies.” He caught Charlie’s eye before looking away quickly.
“But because they move so many pieces so quickly, it’s…
well, it’s become rather lucrative. They’ve even discussed”—Anton hesitated again—“expanding their operations outside the U.S.”
“Are you involved in this on any level?” Charlie asked. He too had obviously noticed the way Anton was couching his words.
“No, I swear that I’m not a part of this.
” Anton looked Charlie directly in the eye, his gaze pleading.
“When I left Swanson, I knew that my father was building a special storage facility for art, and I knew that they were having a lot of closed-door family meetings that I avoided. Big shipments were coming in from around the country, and suddenly my father had plenty of money to modernize the ranch, to renovate our home—to see other women. I knew something wasn’t right, but it was easier to ignore it all, to run away.
Maybe I was in denial…” Anton shook his head at his self-imposed ignorance.
Then, he looked straight at Lacy. “I admit that I should’ve taken a closer look at what they were doing.
I should’ve raised a red flag, but I swear I didn’t know the extent of their”—he struggled against the next word—“crimes. My father told me an hour ago that he wants me to come home and join him. He said that he’s been waiting to ask me until he has everything in place.
” Anton swallowed hard. “Apparently, they’ve brought in ten million in the past two years and think they can double that in the next two. ”
Again, Lacy looked wounded, and I understood why. Though Anton may not have known the ins and outs of the business, he’d known something was awry. He should’ve shared that much at least.
“I’m sorry,” he said, reaching out his hand and covering hers. “I was never planning to join them, so I didn’t think it mattered for us.” He blinked and it suddenly sounded as if he might cry. “And I’m certainly not joining them now. Obviously. God, I’m even outing them in front of a sheriff.”
For the first time I noticed that Anton’s expression was more than desperate: He was torn about doing the right thing when it meant betraying his family; he was also concerned that Lacy believe him at all costs.
Anton held her hand tightly. “Being with you is not an escape plan, but it has allowed me to imagine a life completely separate from my family. While I’ve been gone—maybe even before I left—they carved out this destiny for me, one that I do not want to fit inside.”
Charlie cleared his throat, interrupting the moment between Lacy and Anton.
“I’d like to get an official statement from you.
” His tone of voice had shifted, his words direct and his gaze steady as he turned to me.
“I assume you’ll be pressing charges about the stolen painting, and I’ll need to bring in the woman you found in here. ”
Lacy’s eye caught mine. There was no way I could press charges against anyone—particularly Anton’s family—during her wedding.
“I’ll need to discuss it with Savilla,” I said, buying myself time.
Charlie narrowed his gaze as he studied me. He didn’t like my response, but it was all he was getting for now.
“It’s just…” I let the sentence linger as I considered Lacy above all. “Can’t all of this wait until after the wedding?”
“It’s much easier to deal with people when they are still here in town,” Charlie answered, in a tone that seemed to question whether I’d actually lost my mind.
Anton’s head swiveled between the two of us as he kept his hand on Lacy’s. “Look, I know I’ve told you a lot about my family tonight, but I do think you need to wait on pressing any charges.”
Charlie lifted his chin. “Why?”
It was a simple question—and a fair one. After all, Anton had just revealed years of crimes his family had been committing. He’d offered no proof, except for the missing painting in this very room, but presumably finding that proof wouldn’t be hard to do.
“Because something else is going down this weekend, and I’m afraid it’s worse than theft.” Anton bit his lip before speaking again. “I’m afraid it’s murder.”