Page 36 of Protecting Chaos

Fifteen minutes later, we stepped out of the brownstone to find a marked patrol car across the street. They were no longer trying to maintain an air of anonymity. They didn’t care if they were seen.

The officers were watching the door and nodded as we got into the SUV and pulled out. They didn’t follow at a distance. They were right behind us the entire way.

I parked in front of the art gallery, and the cops met us at the door.

“If you don’t mind, Ms. Michaels, we’d like to make sure there aren’t any other intruders hiding about like last night.” The officer had on his game face. There wouldn’t be any arguing.

She handed him the key. “I’m sorry about the other guys getting sick.”

“Yes, ma’am, us, too, but don’t worry, no one is blaming you. They’ll find the person responsible.”

We waited just inside the door as the cops moved around the warehouse and into the showroom. Minutes later, he called out, “All clear.”

“Thank you, officer,” Stella said in passing as she retook the keys and dropped them into her art bag.

This…overkill…One of the officers’ thoughts were broken up, but I could finally hear them again. My ability to read minds hadn’t been entirely lost, just scrambled and muted.

“We’ll just be at the door.” He nodded, and one cop went off in the other direction.

“Is all this security necessary?” she whispered as we moved to where some paintings were leaning against the wall.

“You were almost kidnapped, I was struck, Marcus is in the hospital, there are three missing models and one dead, and half the police force was poisoned. If anything, I’d say you could use more security.”

She’d dropped her bag onto the table and began moving paintings into the showroom, placing and removing canvases with a critical eye, not stopping until she was happy with the aesthetics before moving on to the next one.

“I already had a plan in my mind for all of the pictures and which ones would be hung and where so that they would complement each other. Everything has to be just perfect,” she said in passing as she grabbed another painting and did the same.

“How can I help?”

“I don’t need your help. I’m used to doing this alone. It’s a mental thing.”

I walked to a table where several phones were sitting out. “What’s up with this?”

“A lot of my sales are online. Dealers or collectors that would rather stay anonymous for whatever reason. I try to have facilities set up just for their representatives.”

“Smart. You said that most of your gallery showings sell out.”

“Most showings have sold out. Fingers crossed that this one is just as successful,” she said.

“That’s great, Stella. I always knew you had it in you.”

I watched her work for an hour, and then my phone rang. Detective Morrison’s name popped up on the Caller ID.

“Bennett.”

“This is Morrison. Listen, Marcus is awake. Do you want to meet me at the hospital to question him?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there in ten.” I just hoped my mind-reading skills had returned by then. God knew this was when that skill mattered most.

I hung up and crossed the room to where Stella was working. “Marcus is awake. I need to run to the hospital to be there when Morrison questions him.”

“I’m glad he’s awake. Tell him I’ll come to see him after the opening.”

No, she wouldn’t.

“You don’t want to come with me?”

“I have too much to do here, and it’s not like you or Morrison are going to let me talk to him. You go on. I’ll be here working. I promise I won’t even leave.”

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