When it was Will? Well, that meant Will wasn’t talking to him, so Cole hoped the interwebs kept right on holding the clown’s attention.
No such luck.
They’d almost finished the glacially slow crawl across the Manhattan Bridge when Will lowered his phone. “Huh.”
Cole gritted his teeth. “If there’s something interesting…” He rolled his hand as if to say,get on with it.
To his surprise, Will did exactly that. “It’s not coming up on any news sites, but my colleague says someonedidget the Iberian Puffin. The real one.”
Cole wanted to snark about his “colleague,” whohadto be another amateur twat fancying himself an art thief. Maybe another time, because he’d locked on to the other part of Will’s comment. “He’s sure?”
“Yeah. It’s being kept pretty hush-hush, but rumor has it after the fake one shattered, Alders went to check on the real one in his vault and discovered it was gone.”
“That sounds like an unsubstantiated rumor,” Cole said despite the sudden knot in his stomach. “Like he’s trying to save face after last night. I mean, shouldn’t he be shouting it from the rooftops so people will look for it?”
“I don’t know about you, but if I were an egomaniac throwing giant parties to show off the hundreds of millions I’ve spent on art, and someone managed to breach my security like that?” Will shrugged. “I don’t know if my pride could handle that publicity.”
Cole considered it, and he had to grudgingly admit that Will might’ve been on to something. It would be a blow to Alders’s ego, but it would also be announcing to the world that his security was lacking, so it would be open season on everything he owned.
Tapping his thumbs on the wheel as he tried to glare a hole through the unmoving cars in front of them, Cole said, “So it’s probably being handled quietly. By the cops and by Alders’s insurance.”
“Probably.” Will was, much like the investigation, quiet for a moment. Then he snatched up his phone and started typing ashe said, “I’d bet your entire inheritance that any CCTV footage has been turned over to the cops by now.”
“Right? And?”
“And…” Will furiously thumbed out a text. “I know someone who can get his hands on that footage if the cops have it.”
“He can’t get it unless the cops have it?”
“Didn’t say that.” More typing. “But if it’s in police possession, it’ll make his job a million times easier.”
Cole glanced at him. Will met his gaze, smirked, shrugged, and went back to typing. He didn’t elaborate.
Irritation itched in Cole, and as he continued crawling across the bridge, he wondered if—oh, for fuck’s sake. This was Will getting back at him for not telling him why no one else was using the elevator.
Both annoyed and maybe a tiny bit chastened, Cole just ground his teeth and continued driving.
Cole didn’t know if traffic was unusually terrible for this town, or if his patience had just worn precariously thin. Either way, the sight of Lilith’s gallery gave him the kind of relief he’d have expected if he’d summited Everest in his underwear.
Thank fuck that’s over.
Unfortunately, unlike when he’d taken Mother home last night, he wasn’t letting someone out and then retreating to his Fortress of Fuck All of You. No, he had to get out and walk into the gallery with Will.
Cheyenne Delacourt, one of the artists being featured at the moment, smiled brightly when they walked in. “Cole! It’s been ages!” She gave him an upper-class hug complete with air kisses. “How are you? How is your mother?”
He smiled thinly. “It’s good to see you, too. And Mother’s fine. In fact, with all this on display”—he gestured at a wall of modern day cubist paintings—“you should invite her in to have a look. She’s all about cubism these days.”
It was almost comical to watch Cheyenne’s carefully trained professional persona struggling to mask the distaste that was clearly trying to bubble up. “Well, you know my heart’s in bronzes right now, not…thatsort of thing. You should come to my exhibition studio downtown, take a look. You’re welcome to pass the word aboutthisshow along, though.” Her smile held by a thread as she added, “I’m sure Lily would love to have Mrs. Dalton’s opinion on it all.”
Cole responded with a nod, then gestured at Will. “This is my— This is Will.”
“Oh, we’ve met plenty of times.” Cheyenne shook Will’s hand, her expression genuine and warm. “How are you doing? How is your brother?”
“He’s good.” Will returned the smile. “Got his hands full with the new baby.” He made a face. “Better him than me. Did you like the soap he sent?”
Cheyenne laughed. “I’m sure the sleepless nights are worth it, and I love the soap! The pine scent is so refreshing.”
Will winked at her. “Maine state flower; he’s got to represent now that he lives there.”
