Page 107 of Ruthless Cross

"I considered that, but after Arthur died in her museum, the same way those other people died, I knew it was her."

He wrestled with the idea his father was trying to sell him. He'd never liked Victoria, but she had a very successful career, and he was still trying to figure out a motive. "Does Victoria know you saw the painting?"

"I didn't take it or remove it, but she guessed I stole her painting by Jovani. Arthur told me she asked him about me a few days before his death."

"You talked to Arthur last week?"

"Yes. On Tuesday. He called me again on Thursday, but I wasn't available. Next thing I knew, he was dead."

"So, you didn't know he got the belladonna painting."

"Not until you were in Palm Springs, and I saw you carry it out of the house."

"I can't believe you were there, and I didn't see you. Were you also there when someone tried to kill me?"

"No. When I arrived, I saw a guy run out of the house and jump into his car. I heard the sirens a moment later. I wish I'd gotten there sooner."

"How did you get there at all? Did Arthur tell you about his secret art stash?"

"Yes, I knew about it. And I had a feeling you'd end up down there." He paused. "I know Victoria didn't kill Arthur herself, but I believe she's the artist of the belladonna painting. The question is—what do you believe?"

"I have no idea."

"I have nothing to gain by pointing the finger at Victoria, Flynn. In fact, I could have said nothing instead of putting myself in jeopardy, but I want to honor my friend and protect you."

"I need a way to tie that painting to Victoria besides your word."

"An x-ray would tell us a lot about the painting, including whether or not she painted over another piece, something that might have had a signature. I'm assuming the bureau will have someone conducting those tests."

"Yes, but it will take time."

"Time you don't have." His dad paused, a thoughtful look on his face. "I have to say that something feels off about this murder. It's not as precise or as clean as the others."

"No, it's not," he agreed. "I reviewed those files again yesterday. The crimes were perfect—no clues, no traces of evidence anywhere. She could be losing her touch. Or she didn't know Arthur took the painting to Palm Springs, to his underground bunker. She thought she'd be able to retrieve it from his house after he died." Flynn paused as his phone buzzed. He didn't recognize the number for the incoming text.

But the photo made his heart stop. Callie was lying on a floor on her side, her hands tied behind her back, her eyes closed. The message said:She's not dead yet. If you want her back, bring the belladonna painting to the Hollister Sculpture on Mulholland Drive at noon. Come alone. Otherwise, she dies.

"Oh, my God," he murmured, staring in horror at her picture.She was supposed to be at the hospital with her mother. She was supposed to be safe.He never should have left her alone, not even for a second.

"What is it?" his father asked.

"Callie has been kidnapped. They want to trade her for the painting." He had to fight the fear racing through his bloodstream. There was no time for emotion. "I'm supposed to hand it off at noon." He glanced at his watch. It was ten. He had a little time, but not much.

"You can't do that. The painting is the only way to prove Victoria's guilt. It's your leverage."

"I don't need you to tell me how to do my job." He paced around in a circle, his brain whirring with options, all of them bad. He couldn't play this out to the kidnapper's demands. There was no guarantee Callie would be let go or kept alive, even if he did turn over the painting. He had to find another way.

"Can I make a suggestion?" his father asked.

"No." He blew out an angry breath. "Yes."

"We find her before the meet."

"That's great," he said sarcastically. "I didn't think of that. Got any idea where she is?"

"Let me look at the photo again."

He handed his father his phone. "It has to be a place Victoria has access to. But it wouldn't be her home. I don't think it's the museum. Damn! It could be anywhere." He felt more overwhelmed than he'd ever felt in his life, because the victim, the person in trouble was Callie.

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