“As she should.” Tessa gave no quarter. “If anyone, male or female, says no, the answer is no. And you were being far too much of a gentleman for her to see things clearly. I”—Tessa ran a hand across a marble end table, her fingernails clicking in a soft beat as she walked by—“simply ensured that she got the message.”
“By threatening dismemberment.”
“I stand by it.” She studied a landscape on the wall.
Zane chuckled. “Thanks for keeping me safe. You’re the best.”
“So you’ve said.” Her airy tone was a stark contrast to her rigid spine.
“Tess.”
“Yes?”
She continued to be absorbed in the art on the walls, so he joined her. “What’s so interesting about this painting?”
“It’s a print.”
“Okay.”
“Not a painting.”
“Is that what makes it interesting?”
“Maybe. All the others are paintings. Oil. This is the only print. And I know this particular work. It’s lovely, but there’s no status to be claimed in exhibiting a print. The other paintings on these walls aren’t by an artist I’m familiar with. Possibly someone local or someone the homeowners support. The other pieces are lovely and suit the room perfectly. This one is fine. It doesn’t clash. But for some reason, it feels wrong in this space.”
She shook her head, as if trying to clear it, and gave him a rueful smile. “It’s probably nothing of note.”
“I disagree. It is worth noting. It may not be pertinent to our mission here, but it’s a detail I never would have picked up on even if you’d left me in this room for a week.”
Tessa’s powers of observation were well-known in the Raleigh office. By the time the president came and went, her skills would be well-known in DC as well.
Zane turned toward the door as a faint tapping of shoes on the wood floor grew louder. Tessa joined him. Marshall Carmichael strode into the room, hand outstretched toward Tessa. “Special Agent Reed.” He shook her hand, then turned to Zane. “Special Agent Thacker. My apologies.”
“We’ve been enjoying this lovely space, Mr. Carmichael.” Tessa indicated a painting on the far wall. “Do you mind telling me about the artist?”
It could have been a trick of the light, or his imagination, but Zane thought there was a flicker of hesitation on Carmichael’s face. “A friend. A fraternity brother, in fact. We called him Toto. He had quite a way of capturing the beauty of our state.”
Carmichael pointed to the print that bothered Tessa. “His best work, in my opinion, goes there. But it was damaged by a guest and is being restored. I’m hoping it will be back in its usual position before Friday. The president was in the same fraternity and knew the artist. It’s one of the last paintings Toto completed prior to his death. It’s hard to explain, but I miss seeing it.” He clapped his hands together. “Enough of an old man’s reminiscing about the glory days. I delayed us long enough. Where would you like to begin?”
They began in the basement, moved to the ground floor, the second floor, the third floor, and then the attic before walking the grounds. Then they spent another two hours going over security details for the event.
Anyone who welcomed a sitting president into their home had to be prepared for an invasion of privacy. But when the president was joined by fifty of his most loyal—and generous—supporters, along with their plus-ones? The invasion was more of an assault that stripped everything bare.
Zane and Tessa were standing outside on the expansive front porch as they walked through the entry procedures for the president’s visit when a news van pulled into the circular driveway. Zane recognized the reporter who exited the vehicle. Hank Littlefield. His cameraman barely took time to close his door before he settled the camera on his shoulder and started recording.
Tessa turned her back to the reporter, and Zane mimicked her motion.
“Special Agent Reed? Is that you? Tessa?” Littlefield called out in a loud voice.
Tessa?Since when did Littlefield know Tess?
Tessa made a sound that bore a suspicious resemblance to a growl before turning. “Hank. How are you?”
5
IF THE GROUNDopened up and swallowed her whole, it would be a mercy.
Instead, Tessa pasted on a smile that she could only hope wouldn’t give Hank the wrong idea. Unfortunately, in her limited experience, everything gave Hank the wrong idea.
