Sybil threw her seatbelt off and sat forward. Her hands shot between Bee and me in mediation. “What thehellis going on here?” She asked more firmly than I expected.I still couldn’t gauge her mood under the hood, but her voice was firm.
“I’m sorry, Sybil,” I placated, but we’d arrived at the townhouse.
Once again, time wasn’t on my side. I gave her an apologetic look before exiting the car and making a B-Line for the front door, leaving the girls to climb out behind me.
The front door was locked, just as I’d left it—no evidence of entry. I took out my keys and unlocked the door, letting it fly open until it once again embedded in the preexisting hole in the wall.
I could hear both girls stalking behind me. Bill barked and danced in the front entry. He darted from me to the stairs and back, urging me to follow him.
I leapt up the stairs two at a time on his heels, ignoring the burn in my chest. Reaching the top, glass covered the floor, the overhead skylight broken. Bill stepped on the glass, flinging iteverywhere. Luckily, his feet were still bandaged from the fire.
The soles of my shoes crunched, following the trail of glittering glass leading into my room and toward the back secret staircase. I scanned the space for any other clues or disturbances, but this appeared to be it.
I spun up the spiral stairs and into my office. I wasn’t sure what I was hoping for; I already knew what I’d find. The gallery doors were wide open, the lock cut off and tossed on the floor. Sawdust swirled as I stepped past and into the empty room.
Bluewas gone.
Hands on my head, I approached the nail where the painting once hung, finding another card stabbed into it. I ripped it off and examined it.
“See you soon, Bee,” it said.
My head fell back, eyes squeezing shut as sweat dripped from my brow. I wanted to vomit.
The girls entered the room behind me. Bee marched up to me, taking the card from my shaking hand and reading it. Sybil’s hood was down, she looked solemn, quiet, hands in her sleeves as she took in the unfamiliar space.
In two strides, I was before her, reaching for her hands. She allowed me to take them, but didn’t reciprocate my hold. My chest tightened even more, and I worried I might have a heart attack. “I’m sorry, I was going to tell you. It was all an accident that started out as a game.” I felt desperate, unable to decide where to start.
I led her from the gallery to one of my leather chairs, urging her to sit. She did, but stayed at the edge of the seat, as thoughreadying herself to run. Bill took his place beside her on the floor, dutifully staying by her side and looking at me with betrayal.
I ran a shaking hand through my hair, wondering how to say it, what she’d think, and if I’d lose her because of this.
“Just say it, Nash,” she whispered. She knew, but wanted to hear it.
I pinched the bridge of my nose, placing my hands on her knees as I knelt before her to look her in the eye. “It started as a game,” I began. “I learned about PERL over the years, and the mystery of it got the better of me. Bee and I do this thing together—we solve art mysteries, find lost things. PERL got under my skin.You—got under my skin.” My voice hitched, feeling like I might cry. “I thought that if I stole one PERL piece—the one at the museum in Whitney—I’d flush out the artist. I wanted to know who you were.”
Her brows furrowed. “For what reason, Nash? Tooutme?” she accused, holding herself steady.
I shook my head. “No, that was never my plan. It was selfish. I just wanted to know who was responsible. I wouldn’t ruin an artist’s entire identity like that, not in my business.”
She continued to eye me, saying nothing more.
I went on, letting a bereft laugh escape my lips. “And then I ran into you. That night, thatverynight… I hadBluein my bag and then you were there, with Bill, tangled around me. I mean, who would have thought?” Tears were threatening again. “AndBill,”I paused and wiped my hand down my face and goatee, “that little smarty-pants knew it, too. He wouldn’t stop tryingto sniff my gym bag.”
I saw a smirk touch the corner of her lip before it dropped away, her eyes in her lap.
“When I saw you, it felt like you’d walked right up and stabbed me in the gut that night. You weresobeautiful, ethereal, and mysterious. The painting in my bag lost its appeal in the blink of an eye. For whatever reason, nothing else mattered but figuring out who you were.” I blinked, giving up my fight with the tears. “That’s when I found my true purpose.”
With her hands in her sleeves, she focused on her fingers, picking at the edges of the hoodie.
“And then, Bee and I went to your show, and there you were. I’d found you again. I knew where you lived, thanks to Bill, and the universe just kept throwing me chances, one after the other. The fire happened, and I took that chance, too. It all seemed so perfectly imperfect.”
There was a long pause while I let her digest all this. I sat back on my heels, letting my hands fall from her knees. I shouldn’t be crowding her like this.
Bee was leaning against the wall in my periphery, staying quiet.
“So when did you figure out I was PERL?” she asked after a few minutes, letting me stew.
“The fire report,” I said. “And the fire Marshall. He was prepared to dress you down about fire safety and flammable materials.” I chuckled and looked to Bee. “We both saw the report, and knew we had to protect you. I promise. At no point did we wish to put your identity in danger. By then we’d both fallen inlovewith you. We would have, and still will doanythingto keep you safe.”
