Chapter 31
Chapter Thirty-One
Cillian slowed his bike to a stop at the back door of the Chicago Renaissance Art Museum and took off his helmet.
Looked like no one was outside in the small lot for employees. Perfect timing to send a message.
He planted his feet on the ground on either side of the bike and rolled the throttle.
The engine revved nice and loud, the sound carrying far beyond the parking lot.
He rolled the throttle a few more times. Waited. Eyes on the solid back door.
Glenn must be busy.
Cillian revved the engine again. And again.
The door cracked open.
A brown-haired head appeared.
Cillian rolled the throttle one more time.
The guy stepped out onto the concrete walk behind the building. Clinton Glenn.
“Hey, Clinton.” Cillian gave him an unfriendly grin. “Surprised to see me?”
The curator’s eyebrows lowered as he stared at Cillian.
“Or maybe you’re more surprised to see my bike.” Cillian leaned back on the seat and swept his hands down to include the bike and himself. “We’re both still alive, no thanks to you. Guess you didn’t fix my bike or my jeep as well as you thought, huh?”
“Who are you?”
“What is it they always say in the movies?” Cillian swung a leg over the bike to dismount and started toward the curator. “Oh, yeah. I’m your worst nightmare.”
“Now hold on.” Glenn moved back toward the door. “I don’t know who you are, and I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Cillian paused. Wouldn’t do any good to scare him into the building too soon. “You sure about that, Glenn? Then I suppose you don’t know anything about the fraud and theft either, right? Those paintings you had forged so you could sell Briscoe’s real ones on the black market.”
Glenn paled, his eyes widening.
Cillian grinned for real this time. “Oh, yeah. We know all about those. We found Briscoe’s evidence.
You know, the stuff you were looking for when you pushed Victoria down and made me chase you to your car.
Briscoe did a good job collecting all that.
Very thorough.” He crossed his arms over his jacket.
“I handed it all over to the cops yesterday. Same morning you tried to kill me.”
“I…I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Glenn swiveled toward the door, fumbling to find the knob.
“Hold it, Glenn.” Cillian stalked toward him, stopping when the curator faced him again. “Just one last thing. While you’re waiting for the cops to come get you for the fraud—oh, and for murdering Briscoe—don’t even think of trying to hurt Victoria Weston again.”
Cillian swapped his fake casual tone for a growl and pinned Glenn with a full-on glare. “If you do, you’ll have to go through me.” He moved toward the curator.
Glenn spun away and yanked open the door, running inside as fast as he could.
No surprise. With any luck, the information Cillian had just shared would make the curator keep on running. Right into a jail cell.
A rap on the door jerked Victoria’s attention away from the notebook computer on her bedspread. She rose and went to her bedroom door, pulling it open. “How did it go?”
Robert smiled, but the curve of his mouth quickly fell into a frown, as if losing the battle with the heaviness that furrowed his brow. “Can I come in?”
“Of course.” She backed away from the door and went to the edge of her bed to sit.
He scanned her room. “Your room is as ridiculously clean as it was at home.”
“Thank you.” She forced herself to wait to ask the questions she wanted to until he sat in the wingback chair in the corner.
He was clearly trying to stall or avoid something with humor.
She would give him a moment, though she’d been waiting an hour to hear how his session with Sydney had gone. “And thank you for agreeing to see Sydney this afternoon. I didn’t expect you to fit her in so soon.”
“We had that cancellation.”
Victoria nodded. Robert had already explained that when he had texted earlier.
He’d also shared that he would come to Victoria’s house for the session since Sydney would be more likely to open up in a familiar, comfortable environment.
“Did it help, holding the session in my living room instead of at your office?”
He met her gaze. “Yeah. And Max was a big help, too. If he wasn’t so afraid of people, I’d want to borrow him as a therapy dog.”
“I’ll tell him you said that.” Victoria gave Robert a small smile. Then waited another few seconds for him to elaborate. Unless he wasn’t going to share anything. “I know you can’t divulge specifics. I would just like to know if the session was helpful for Sydney.”
He nodded. “I believe it was. It’s a pretty disturbing situation.”
Her stomach twisted a little. She knew Sydney’s situation was difficult, but something about hearing a professional confirm the knowledge was disheartening.
“We made real progress today, though. She really opened up, and we were able to process some things.” He smiled. “She gave me permission to tell you that.”
“I see. Did she…” Victoria thought carefully about how to word her question. She didn’t want to put him in a difficult position. “Did she reveal anything that I had mentioned I would like to know?”
He looked off to the side. “I already said I wouldn’t be able to tell you that.”
But he just did, though without a name. At least she had told someone the identity of her baby’s father. If only Robert could share it.
“I do think she’ll tell you when she’s ready.”
“Really?” Hope rose in Victoria’s chest.
“Definitely.” The confidence in his tone either came from his professional assessment or, perhaps more likely, from some indication on Sydney’s part.
“I hope that’s soon. Did she seem shaken at all about Treese’s advice that she get an abortion?”
“I know she’d tell you herself that she’s not going to get an abortion. She’s solid on that, which is amazing given her mother’s pressure. I know you’re already aware of that situation. It helps that she has such a supportive brother.”
“Yes, Warren has been a great help to her. He drives her to—”
A knock. The front door?
“I can get it!” Sydney’s eager shout carried from the living room.
“That’s okay, Sydney. I’ll answer it.” Victoria threw Robert a quizzical glance as she stood and went to the hallway.
“Are you expecting someone?” His question caught her from behind as he followed her to the front door.
“No. But it’s the middle of the afternoon. And Cillian was going to…talk to Glenn.”
The knock came harder.
She flinched inwardly as she turned into the short entryway. But an attacker wouldn’t knock.
“Why don’t you let me answer it?”
She paused a few feet from the door. “Go ahead.” She sidestepped out of Robert’s way as he went to the door.
“Victoria?” The masculine voice was muffled through the door. “It’s me.”
Robert opened the door, and tall, dark, and handsome Cillian landed his gaze on Victoria.
Her pulse performed a cartwheel worthy of an Olympic gymnast.
“I was afraid you’d decided not to let me in.” Cillian grinned.
She arched an eyebrow, restraining the smile that wanted to answer his. “Why would I do that?”
“Because I confronted Glenn.”
“You did?” Robert stepped back to let Cillian enter, carrying cold air in with him.
“Yep.” Cillian turned away and closed the door behind him, then spun toward them. “Called him out on trying to kill me and you,” Cillian swung his focus to Victoria, then bounced it back to Robert, “and told him all about the evidence we have against him, courtesy of Thomas Briscoe.”
Robert looked at Victoria. “And you didn’t want him to do that?”
She pinched her lips together. “I was concerned about how Glenn might react. And now we’ve tipped our hand.”
“Exactly.” Cillian nodded, eagerness in his eyes. “He’s so cornered now, I’m sure he’s going to act.”
Robert lifted a hand, his finger slightly raised.
“But his action could be to try to kill Victoria in an even more aggressive and undisguised way—one that wouldn’t miss or that would be hard to defend against. Now you two aren’t only troublemakers who are prompting the police to investigate everyone.
You’re the people who hold the evidence that could convict him. ”
“I don’t think he’ll do that.” Cillian answered Robert’s objection with an equally calm and civil tone, mutual respect evident between them.
“I told him we already gave the evidence to the police. But you’re right, we can’t be sure.
” He switched his gaze to Victoria. “That’s why you’re coming with me to tail Glenn. ”
“I beg your pardon?”
A smile twitched Cillian’s mouth at her response. “I need to borrow your car again anyway. My bike is too easily seen.”
“And you’re going to leave your motorcycle parked in my driveway?”
The smile broke through, likely a reaction to her slightly horrified tone.
She didn’t want to consider what the neighbors would think if they saw she suddenly had a motorcycle in her driveway.
They were probably already becoming curious about all the comings and goings at her house recently.
But the motorcycle staying at all hours might make them think, heaven forbid, that she was having a fling with a bike-riding boyfriend.
“No worries, Vicks. I had a rideshare drop me off.”
Which also meant she’d be forced to loan him her car. She narrowed her eyes.
“Well,” Robert pointedly looked at his watch, “I’ve gotta get back to the office. You two kids have fun.” He winked at Victoria.
As he stepped past Cillian to reach the door, he fist-bumped Cillian’s shoulder. “Good luck, man.”
Wonderful. Now even Robert had been charmed by Cillian and was on his side. She took in a resigned breath as Cillian shut the door behind Robert. “Fine. You may borrow my car, as long as you don’t do anything reckless while driving it.”
“No promises.” Cillian grinned. “But you’re going to be there anyway, so you can keep an eye on my driving at all times.”
“I’m not going to participate in something I think is a dangerous and foolish scheme.” She folded her arms across her sweater. “And my father’s birthday dinner is this evening. I cannot risk being late.”
His smile faded at the mention of her dad. “What time?”
“The dinner is at eight, but I must arrive by no later than six to prepare the meal.”
“Mushroom pappardelle and veal?”
She stared at him. That was right, they had just begun dating before her father’s birthday dinner that year. The last one her mother had been able to host. “Yes.”
“Figured you would’ve kept it the same for him.
” For once, no antagonism or bitterness showed in Cillian’s eyes.
Instead, they held a softness. Something that looked like compassion and possibly approval.
Certainly not for her father. But, perhaps, for her.
“Don’t worry, Vicks. I’ll get you to the ball on time. I promise.”
He stepped closer and lightly touched her arm. “But in the meantime, I’d feel a lot better if you’d ride along with me so I can guarantee you won’t get hurt.” The warmth of his fingers on her arm and his gentle tone started to melt her resistance.
“We really should let the police handle this.” Her objection lacked the usual conviction in her tone. “We’re in enough trouble as it is. Or at least, I am.”
“We’re going to get out of trouble, Vicks.” He squeezed her elbow slightly. “I can feel it. We’re going to get this guy, and then you’ll be safe and off the cops’ suspect list.”
She nodded. Why had she even bothered trying to resist? He’d probably known she would give in, evidenced by the fact he’d let the rideshare leave him there.
But Cillian smiled. And as she saw the happiness in his eyes, the remnant of her pride disappeared.
Perhaps he was right. Perhaps this very day she would be cleared, Thomas’s killer would be arrested, and the nightmare would end.