“You’ve found the painting. Right?” She spoke without inflection, proceeding into the apartment. When she spotted the Renoir, she simply stood, observing it.
She wore white jeans, a loose turquoise shirt. She’d woven her hair into a messy braid that snaked over one shoulder. She looked just like she always did, except for the waves of betrayal pouring from her. She was furious with him.
He was terrified for her. “Did you drive here in your car?” he asked.
She gave a rigid nod.
“No one followed you?”
“No.”
“That doesn’t mean they don’t know where you are.”
“How? I’ve been keeping an eye on my rearview mirror ever since the day you told me you thought Nick was tailing you. I’ve never once suspected that anyone was following me.”
“Emerson knows you’ve been hunting for the painting with me. She may have placed a GPS device on your car.” In that case, Emerson could be right on their heels. They might only have minutes to evacuate.
Britt looked at him sharply. “A GPS device?”
He jerked his chin.
“If you suspected that they might have put a GPS device on my car, why didn’t you say so?” she asked.
Whyhadn’the warned her? In retrospect, keeping her in the dark struck him as unforgivably stupid. “Because I didn’t plan for you to come anywhere near this painting. Look, we need to get out of here.” Urgency marked each word. “This piece of art is worth a fortune. There are plenty of people in the world who wouldn’t hesitate to kill us both to get their hands on it.”
“If I’ve inadvertently led those people here, then I’ve also led them to the painting.” She gestured to the Renoir. “We can’t let them have this.”
“Yes, we can.” If his choices were risking Britt or letting the painting fall into the wrong hands—no contest. He’d let the painting go. “Let’s leave—”
“We’re taking the painting. We need to cover it in something.” She rushed to the curtains. “Give me a leg up.”
“Britt.”
“Give me a leg up.”
He cupped his palms and lifted her. She raised the edge of the curtain rod from its support, tipped the rod down, and let one of the curtain panels pool on the floor.
Zander setYoung Woman at Reston the curtain, and they hurried to wrap it in folds of cloth. He lifted the painting, and they dashed into the hallway. He didn’t bother locking the door behind them.
Elevator or stairs? “Let’s take the stairs,” he decided. Fewer cameras.
They’d leave Britt’s car here and drive Clint’s anonymous truck straight to ... to Detective Shaw. They only had to make it to the police station in Merryweather. Yet under these circumstances, Merryweather felt much too far away.
Maybe it would be better to take the painting to the closest police station. Here, in Olympia. That’s what he’d do. He’d take it to the nearest station and entrust it to the police, who were much better equipped to protect it than he was. Then he’d get Britt far away from it.
Their breathing accelerated as they sprinted down the final flight of stairs. They reached the first floor and pushed through the exit doors that emptied to the parking lot. He led the way as they ran toward Clint’s truck.
The mild, cloudy day appeared harmless. Peaceful. Light wind rustled the bank of trees at the perimeter of the lot. Clint’s truck waited for them, just forty yards or so away.
They sped toward it.
Twenty yards.
All four doors of a black G-Class Mercedes SUV parked nearbyopened simultaneously. Four men climbed from it. Immediately, their focus centered on Zander and Britt.
His gut pitched. They ran faster.
“I’d slow down if I were you, Zander,” one of the men called.
