Page 1 of Forging Caine

Chapter 1

Samantha

Thelaptopstaredbackat me, providing no more clues than it had over the past two hours. Photographs, police reports, fire marshal’s report. Foster Mutual Insurance had paid over twenty thousand dollars for this fire claim last spring, but something told me it was fraud.

My job was to find the proof.

It was somewhere in the files, but my brain refused to focus.

I pushed back from the oversized dark wood dining table in Antonio’s oversized open-concept great room. Next to me sat his oversized kitchen with its granite countertops and breakfast bar with too many bar chairs.

No, that would beouroversized everything. I’d been living alone in the penthouse condo for four months while he wrapped up his contract in Naples.

I should have been at the office, but after six and a half years working out of my truck, the cubicle life gave me hives. Besides, all I’d have done there was check my watch, stalk the hallways, and refresh my text messages a million times. No one needed to see my excited pacing while I counted down the final hours until my boyfriend would be home for good.

My phone buzzed in the pattern I’d set for the concierge desk downstairs. The security app showed Lucy Chapman waiting to come up.Thank god. Work was done for the day—my much-needed distraction had arrived. I authorized her visit and waited by the door.

“Best graduation gift ever!” Lucy squealed as she stepped out of the elevator. She never dressed up to see me, but her normally straight jet-black hair was curled at the ends. Her eye shadow sparkled under the pot lights, bringing my attention to the wing she’d added with eyeliner.

“What’s with the makeup?”

“How much time do we have?” She plopped down on the bench inside the door, hauling off her Doc Martens and ignoring my question. “Because you’re going to love this.”

A few weeks ago, Antonio and I had found ourselves in Boston for a weekend, visiting the book conservator who was repairing my Christmas gift to Antonio—an ancient leather-bound copy ofThe Merchant of Venicemy father had given to my mother. Between the pastedown and the interior board, the conservator discovered a small sheet of paper with strange characters none of us could translate.

I’d shown it to Lucy when I got back from Boston and she couldn’t have grabbed it from my hand any faster. She loved a good puzzle as much as I did, so we’d called it a graduation present.

On our way to the dining room, she said, “Antonio gets in at four, right?”

“Not until five. He called from Chicago. His flight was delayed so he’s renting a car rather than waiting.” I held back as much of a sigh as I could. I wouldn’t confess it to anyone but Antonio, but I’d been counting down the days until his return and the final hours were driving me mad. As much as I loved my solitude, I was beyond excited to see him again.

She pulled out a few sheets of paper and pencils while I moved my laptop to the side. “So, I’ve got five hours to keep you busy?”

“Sort of. I have another friend dropping by.” I leaned on the back of one of the dining chairs. “You and I need to talk about him.”

She froze. “Him? This can’t be good.”

“You remember I told you I was in the FBI?”

“And then totally refused to fess up to more than that?” She slid into a seat, arranging the papers in front of her. “How could I forget?”

I feigned a scowl, which was met by her blowing a large gum bubble. “Before that, I did an internship at the FBI field office in Detroit with the Art Crime Team.”

“Sounds perfect for you.” She wasn’t wrong.

Part of me had been dying to go back since I resigned prematurely, but another much more vocal part of me didn’t want to go anywhere near the Bureau until last year. “I’ve kept in touch with the man I interned for, Special Agent Elliot Skinner.”

“He’s the guy you contacted for that stolen painting at Christmas, right?”

“That’s the one.” I straightened, rubbing my fingers over the chair back. “He’s been after me to rejoin, or at least—”

“Shut up! You’re leaving Foster Mutual? But I’m starting in September!”

I ran a hand over my face. This was the same question I’d had swirling around my brain practically every day since I moved to Brenton when my sister got sick in June. First, my job with Foster was supposed to be a short-term position until her treatments were done. Then, Antonio came into my life, along with his threats to make it less short-term. Then Elliot showed up and threw a wrench into everything.

My world had flipped upside down this last year. “I don’t know. It’s possible. Elliot’s been trying to prove to some folks at the FBI that I’d be an excellent addition to his team—as a consultant, working from here.”

Lucy pushed one sheet in my direction. “I guess if he’s coming over, we should get down to business.” While her social boundaries were nearly non-existent, she also respected when I was done talking about something. I loved that about her.

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