“Cassie’s?”
“The Adoration—worth about twenty million. Hold on. Here it is. The most recent time Sucov landed in the United States was six years ago. He was here two years before then too. Both trips were for business. There is no record of him entering the country again.”
“Well, the bastard is taking up space in my holding cell.”
“I’ll have the file for you in the morning.”
* * *
Tucker opened the door. “I drew some blood and gave her some Unisom. It will make her relaxed, sleepy, and less nauseated. Her pressure is still low, so we’re pumping her up with more fluid. Nothing by mouth until morning.”
“What do you think it is?” Ian worried.
“It could be a bug. It could be anxiety. Could be an infection. We’ll have to wait and see. She seems okay for the moment. Get some rest, and call us if she throws up again,” Eric said.
Ian changed into a pair of pajama pants. Cassie’s eyes were halfway closed by the time he pulled her back against his chest.
“Don’t be mad at Martin. He did what I asked him to do,” she said groggily.
“And it made you sick. Next time you go off without thinking, I will put you over my knee.”
“You wouldn’t dare?” Cassie reached behind her to pat him.
“And one more thing—you are not my weak link. You are my joy.” His finger traced a figure eight just below her right shoulder. Cassie relaxed at his gentle touch. “I saw theAdoration. I know it,” she sniffed.
Ian continued the circles. “Tell me about the dream. Where did it take place?”
Cassie closed her eyes. Her words were thick. “A big floral couch. Huge candleholders. An easel. TheYoung Woman In Pink.”
“Where are you?” Her heart pounded against his chest.
“Garett’s house, sitting on the den couch. A man, he has a scar. It’s Sucov talking on his phone in Russian. ‘You were not wrong when you said she was as beautiful as the painting. Maybe I should delay our business.’ Garett’s dad left the room. I was alone with him. He didn’t know I understood Russian. He spoke to me; said he was going to enjoy himself. He tried to kiss me, and his hand went down my blouse while he exposed himself.” Goosebumps erupted across her body.
“Cassie, I’m right here. No one will hurt you. It’s a memory.”
She clutched Ian’s arm. “I kicked him. He yelled, ‘You whore. You’re a dead girl.’ He blocked my way. I grabbed the painting and threw it at him to get away. The frame, it split open, and the Caravaggio was inside. I ran to my car. Garett was standing there, and I ran into his arms. He was supposed to save me, but he said, ‘I’m so sorry, baby.’ He was supposed to love me. A needle. I was sleepy.
“Someone carried me up the stairs. Garett pleading, ‘Do you have to do this?’ A woman’s voice said, ‘It’s a fine mess you created, Cassiopeia.’ Another voice said, ‘She’s seen too much.’ Garett keeps saying he’s sorry. ‘We need to make this work for us. Do the procedure. Keep her asleep?’”
“Who said that?”
Cassie’s voice went flat. “I can’t see their faces. A man. An American flag pin. They’re hurting me. There’s a woman in pearls…a triple strand of pink pearls. A ruby clasp.”
Ian shifted behind her. Betty Bynum wore those pearls at the dinner, and her husband always wore an American flag pin.
“I’m on a bed. Garett is holding my hand. I'm paralyzed and can't call out, naked from the waist down, and two women are holding my legs open. I try to sit up. It’s Adrienne. She slaps me. ‘Little prissy bitch. You need to behave.’ A man says, ‘Keep her still—or it won’t work.’ Something cold is inside me.” Cassie rolled herself into a ball and rocked.
“It hurts. Garett said, ‘Hang in there, baby. A little more—and it will be all over.’” Cassie rocked against Ian. “Garett let them hurt me.”
Ian swallowed hard and cradled her in his arms. “Sweetheart, take a big, deep breath. You’re safe here. They can’t hurt you.”
Cassie kept talking. “A car. It’s dark, and it smells of exhaust. I’m bouncing against metal. I’m in the trunk. The car stops. Two men lift me up.”
“Can you see their faces?”
“Robby and Sebastian. They push me up a flight of metal steps. I trip—my heel got caught. A room, it's empty. They toss me on the floor. It smells of mold. ‘Here, Princess. This will help,’ Sebastian says and holds down my arm. He has a syringe. The needle goes into me. He keeps calling me Princess. You can’t say that. My daddy calls me princess. I see pretty colors.” Cassie froze.
“Tell me, sweetheart.”
