Chapter 3 - The Painting That Wasn’t There
Sadie stood inside Callum Russo’s penthouse at eleven that night wearing borrowed slippers and staring at the Chicago skyline.
A private doctor had cleaned the cut on her foot.
Nothing was broken.
Callum considered that the only good news of the evening.
Marco entered the study.
“Warehouse is clean.”
Callum looked up.
“Too clean?”
“Completely empty.”
“And Victor?”
“Gone.”
Sadie appeared in the doorway.
“He knew you were coming.”
Callum turned.
“You should be resting.”
“And you should stop telling me what to do.”
Marco hid a smile.
Callum noticed.
“Leave.”
Marco vanished.
Sadie limped toward the desk.
“Victor knew because someone warned him.”
Callum nodded.
“Which means I have a leak.”
“You have several.”
“How do you know?”
Sadie placed another document down.
“Because the shipping manifest is fake.”
Callum stared at her.
“You told me it was real.”
“No. I told you the paintings listed on it belong to you.”
“What’s the difference?”
“The document was created to be found.”
Callum picked it up again.
Sadie pointed toward the bottom.
“See the freight code?”
“Yes.”
“Wrong format.”
“And you noticed that when?”
“About twenty minutes ago.”
“So Victor wanted me to go to Fulton.”
“I think so.”
Callum reached for his phone.
Sadie grabbed his wrist.
“Wait.”
His eyes lifted.
“What?”
“If somebody wanted you at Fulton tonight, maybe you shouldn’t tell anyone you figured it out.”
Callum slowly lowered the phone.
“You’re an art appraiser.”
“Yes.”
“You’re surprisingly comfortable with conspiracy.”
“I work in museums. You’d be amazed.”
That almost made him laugh.
Almost.
Callum poured coffee instead.
Sadie sat across from him.
“What would Victor gain by sending you to an empty warehouse?”
“Depends.”
“On?”
“Who expected me there.”
Sadie’s face tightened.
Callum saw it.
“You’re safe here.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.”
“How?”
“Because only three people know you’re here.”
“Marco?”
“Yes.”
“Your driver?”
“No.”
She frowned.
“Then who?”
“Me, Marco, and the doctor.”
Sadie stared toward the windows.
“What happens tomorrow?”
“We find Nolan.”
“And?”
“We ask questions.”
“That sounds ominous.”
“It’s meant to.”
Her phone suddenly vibrated.
Sadie froze.
Unknown number.
Callum held out his hand.
She gave him the phone.
A message appeared.
YOU SHOULD HAVE TAKEN THE MONEY.
A second arrived.
A photograph.
Sadie’s apartment building.
Taken minutes earlier.
Her face drained of color.
Callum immediately called Marco.
“Get two men to Miller’s apartment. Nobody enters.”
Sadie stood.
“My cat.”
Callum stared at her.
“What?”
“My cat is there.”
“You’re worried about a cat?”
“Yes, Callum, because normal people care about living things.”
He paused.
Then spoke into the phone.
“Marco.”
“Yeah?”
“There’s a cat.”
Silence.
“A what?”
“Get the cat.”
Sadie covered her mouth.
Despite everything, she laughed.
It lasted two seconds.
Then another message arrived.
This one wasn’t from Nolan.
It was a photograph of a painting.
Callum’s expression changed.
Sadie stepped closer.
“What?”
He enlarged it.
A seventeenth-century portrait hung against a warehouse wall.
Sadie recognized it instantly.
“The Bellini.”
Callum nodded.
It had disappeared three months earlier.
The message beneath the photograph contained only an address.
And four words.
COME ALONE OR SHE DIES.
Sadie read it.
Then looked at Callum.
“Who is ‘she’?”
Callum’s silence answered her.
May you like
Someone else was missing.
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