Page 73 of Forging Caine

“First, look at what I found.” I crossed to the far end of the room, to the wall next to the worktable where the painting lay. I’d taken down a few of my paintings to hang my notes and tests on the wall. “The infrared showed the same sketch as the Ter Borch painting.”

Samantha stepped closer, taking in the printout. “I’m pretty sure he blocked with paint.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“The folks at the National Gallery would know?”

“They’d know about the four they worked on. What about the thirty others?” I ran a hand through my hair, letting it rest against the back of my head. “We can’t say it’s a fake based solely on that.”

“Fair.” She crossed her arms and returned to the computer. “But I’m betting they have some videos online that might inspire us, so we don’t have to get Jason back upstairs.”

I knelt next to her once she’d sat and lowered my voice. “Did you notice the sketch was exactly the same as the first painting Fiori gave us?”

She nodded, searching for a Vermeer video on YouTube.

“Do you think, maybe Fiori has a forger who startedThe Concerton that canvas, but switched toThe Music Lesson? And then they started again with this canvas?”

She stopped searching and played the first Vermeer video on her screen. It must have been to cover our discussion, because it had nothing useful in it. “You think he’s intentionally feeding you forgeries?”

I waved my hands in front of myself, like I could grasp an answer out of the air. “Perhaps? Or perhaps this one is the real thing and the first one was going to be a copy of it?”

“So the forger uses the original and starts by duplicating the under sketch, then changes to a different forgery?”

My head fell forward to her arm and she ran her fingers through my hair. Thank all the goodness in the universe I had her by my side. “I don’t want to call anyone for advice unless I have to.”

“Stubborn man going it alone?”

I lifted my head to gaze up into her stunning green eyes. Green with hints of blue in the right light or when she wore the right shirt. Pale, like the waters off Capri. “I refuse to risk our families for this.”

She looked away from me for a moment, and a sinking sensation spread deep in my gut.

“Tell me you didn’t call Elliot?”

“Shh.” She tapped a finger against her lips and leaned next to my ear. “They gave me a recording device for when we see Fiori.”

I shot back. There was no way. “You wouldn’t.”

The first video ended, and a new one started automatically. At the sound of Lucy’s voice, Samantha turned to the screen. It was one of her travel vlogging family videos from the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam, six years ago. She was discussing the use of ultramarine in Vermeer’s paintings.

Samantha gave a tiny laugh. “I guess we just needed to ask Lucy.”

“Bella,” I hissed, bringing her back to the discussion. “Promise me you won’t do this.”

“They’ll never know. It’s hidden inside a key fob. We need to finish this work and set up a meeting with him. I’ll record him, we leave, and the FBI can take care of everything after that. If I don’t get what they need, that’s where it ends.”

She didn’t understand men like this. I’d worked with them and I knew how dangerous they were. Fiori would just as easily swat a fly as give the order to kill Emma. “You can’t do that, bella.”

She slid off the chair and knelt in front of me. “I’ve been running from all the shit in my past for too long. My future…” Her voice broke and she swallowed hard. “It’s right in front of me. And I refuse to run anymore.”

Chapter 24

Antonio

Ipulledaroundthecircular driveway to the Morning Star Yacht Club. It was a long white stucco building in the Spanish Revival style with tall windows, a rich wood balcony running its length, and a terracotta roof. The yacht club lay on a narrow slip of land in the middle of the Detroit River, boasting a lauded restaurant.

This was the spot Fiori had chosen to discuss my findings.

Jason drove in a separate vehicle behind us, both paintings in his possession. Despite my insistence it would take days to discover the truth, it had only taken six hours. It was Tuesday morning and we still had plenty of time to pick a vacation destination.

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