Page 71 of Forging Caine

She’d obviously found something, but this was what I had to endure to get information from her. The more clever her solutions were, the longer the explanations took. “Theoretically, that means I have a list of everything that buyer ever purchased from the auction site.”

“Which means…?”

“One of the things purchased from that auction site was a giant sculpture of a hand, with a wrist bent at ninety degrees.”

I punched one fist into the air but kept my tone as neutral as possible. The last thing I needed was Lucy’s head to get bigger. “Excellent. But how do we find out who that buyer is?”

“Check. Your. Email.”

I woke my laptop, which was sitting on the desk. “Is this where I’m going to call you a genius again?”

“I’ll just wait in silence for a moment.”

“Doubt that.”

She giggled. “Okay, maybe not. Do you have it yet?”

“One sec.” I opened my email program and the message from Lucy dropped into my inbox. It included a link to an article from an architectural magazine that included the hand statue as a yard installation. “How did you find that?”

“Insta. Found an influencer who posted a photo of herself with the statue—it was a lot bigger than I was expecting, about twice her height—and a comment referenced the article, and I found it. I contacted her, but from the sounds of it, she totally edited the photo.”

I skimmed the article. A reclusive art collector, known only as Mr. X, let the magazine reps into his house, a 23-acre haven for art in the heart of Long Island. They took photos of several rooms, immaculately curated. “This is perfect, Luce. Do you think you could dig a bit more into who this guy is?”

“You bet! This is kinda fun.”

“Thanks. Call me when you have more.” I hung up and almost tapped on Elliot’s number. In all the excitement, my brain had pushed aside the worries about Cass and Sofia. What if Jason and his earpiece overheard me talking to an FBI agent? Even if it wasn’t aboutThe Concert, it would risk our families.

No, the best option was to support Antonio in any way he needed with the painting, then cut all our ties with Fiori. Maybe I could get the recording the FBI wanted, maybe I couldn’t. But I’d worry about that when we got close to him.

Maybe thisGrainfieldpainting was the key. It was at the pawnshop with no details in the inventory. What if… what if the painting Antonio and I found at the auction was in their inventory somewhere? Maybe the way they’d recorded it would be similar enough toGrainfieldand then we could find a trend for the stolen artwork.

I scanned the piles littering the floor. Which folder or stack would it be in?

There was a loud knock at the door. “Ms. Caine, it’s time to check on Dr. Ferraro’s progress.”

“No thanks. You go ahead,” I called, hoping he’d leave it at that. I couldn’t let him see all this paperwork, in case it got back to Fiori what I was doing.

Jason knocked again. “I’m afraid I insist.”

“Fine,” I muttered to myself.

My office was one of the few rooms in the condo that didn’t have windows, and I used that to my advantage. I flicked on a lamp on the desk and shut the other lights off, then opened the door. A cursory glance inside the dark room would likely only reveal the desk, with my laptop, or the piano. Hopefully, the dark lumps all over the floor would go unnoticed. I swung the door open, stepped out, and closed it behind me. The lock clicked.

“Why so much security on this room?”

“Insurance company business. It’s mandatory for anyone working from home with client information.” I waved a hand and started down the hallway, as though I were as innocent as I was attempting to sound. “You know, addresses, house values, inventories. I handle a lot of data that could be used for identity theft.”

“And you’re abiding by our agreement? I don’t have to send anyone to visit your sister?”

My stomach clenched and I bit back the bile climbing its way up my throat. “Of course I’m abiding by the agreement. You were very persuasive.”

Oh my god, we needed to finish this job. And soon.

Chapter 23

Antonio

Samanthahadstayedupstairswith me until Jason’s first half-hourly check-in. As desperately as I wanted her with me, her presence was one more reminder of what we were risking by doing this, so I asked her to go downstairs. There was too much at stake for my focus to wander. I had to finish and do it quickly.

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