Page 16 of Tracing Her Stolen Identity
“The way you do art has always fascinated me,” he said, leaning forward and clasping his hands in front of him. “Listen, we need to talk.”
She knew it was coming. They’d been awake for anhour and had made small talk but avoided the real reason they were there. They couldn’t keep doing that if they were going to solve this problem so she could move on with her life.
“I know it’s time, but I’m nervous.”
“It would be weird if you weren’t nervous,” he promised. “That’s normal, but remember you have an entire team behind you and they’re working round the clock to find out who is behind this. Last night, while you were sleeping, Iris sent me the background information on Miles Bradshaw. Interesting guy, and not in a good way.” She held her hand out to him as if to say,Right?“They’re doing a deeper dive into him now that I highlighted some areas for them to focus on.”
“What kind of areas?” she asked, setting the pad on the coffee table. Relaxing time was over. She needed to dig in and help Reece. People she didn’t even know were trying to get to the bottom of this, so the least she could do was help.
“To start, his increasingly aggressive interactions with other artists and gallery owners. He also has some history of petty crimes and such. The team will ensure there aren’t other accusations about more significant crimes against galleries or people.”
“I still find it hard to believe that an artist would damage galleries just to get back at me,” she said, her shoulders falling forward. “It’s hard enough to keep art galleries open, so destroying them only makes it harder for everyone in the art community.”
“I would say that I agree, and I do to a degree, but I’ve also worked with a lot of narcissistic individuals. Many believe that if they can’t be involved in something, no one can. If that makes sense.”
“It does,” she said with a nod. “Miles certainly fits that bill. The amount of rage exhibited in my home yesterday makes me want to vomit, but it also tells me whoever did it was focused on my art.”
“How so?”
Skylar pulled herself back up against the cushion to get comfortable. He must have noticed, because he moved beside her on the couch and braced her feet against his thigh so she wouldn’t keep sliding down.
“Thanks,” she said with a relieved smile. “It’s hard to sit like this.”
“I understand. I’ll have your chair ready soon. The art?”
Her nod told him her head was back in the game. “What I meant was, the house was tossed, but if you looked around, my art took the brunt of it. Every mosaic and glass piece was shattered. All the paintings or sketches were ripped apart and shredded.”
Reece was quiet for a few moments before he nodded. “You’re right. I was focused on the whole picture, but it’s obvious when you break it down. That leads me to my next question.”
“Which is?”
“Silas.”
The name slammed into her like a thousand bullets that she wasn’t sure she’d survive.
Chapter Ten
It was easy to be mad at him for bringing him up, but Skylar knew it was inevitable. You can’t have a skeleton that size in your closet and not expect someone to want to take a peek. “We don’t need to involve him. He’s dead and gone, Reece.”
“Gone? Yes. Dead? Maybe not.”
“He’s been gone for thirteen years, Reece. He’s dead. A John Doe in someone’s morgue or buried in a potter’s field somewhere. Leave it alone.”
“We have no evidence that he’s dead,” Reece argued. “When did your parents stop looking for him?”
Her shrug was jerky as she did the math in her head. “Probably nine or ten years ago? There wasn’t much sense in paying someone to look for a kid who didn’t want to be found. As parents, that was hard for them to accept, but let’s not mince words here. Silas had problems. We can’t and never did deny that was part of the situation.” The following sentence would take him by surprise, but she had to tell him. “Silas didn’t even graduate from high school.”
“What? No, I remember that he did,” Reece said, turning to face her better. “Your mom had a party and the whole thing.”
“Silas walked the stage and there was a party, but that diploma case was empty. He had two credits he was supposed to finish that summer and then they’d mail him the diploma, but he never went to summer school, so he never got the diploma. That’s why he worked low-wage jobs and just drifted around. My parents tried to help him. They found ways for him to get his diploma, but he refused to do any of them. Eventually they gave up, deciding he was an adult and had to make his own decisions.”
“Which is why they stopped looking for him, too?”
She made the so-so hand motion. “In a way, yes. When Silas left home, we thought something bad had happened, but there was no evidence of that. The police could locate his car on traffic cameras throughout the state, but when he didn’t return in a few months, Mom called the police again. They insisted there was no evidence of a crime or foul play, so they couldn’t get involved. Private detectives came up empty-handed every time they hired one. Our family therapist finally sat everyone down and suggested that maybe Silas left because he wanted a fresh start. After my accident, life was difficult for a few years, and as an adult, he didn’t have to stay there and live through it, too.”
“He could have left a note,” Reece said through clenched teeth.
“Silas could have done a lot of things he didn’t do, Reece. That was the nature of the beast with him. It was hard for my parents to detach themselves enough to see their son for who he was. That’s just being a parent. I never liked him, so that gave me clarity they didn’t have. It was hard to hide my relief when he didn’t return after a few weeks.”
