Page 23 of Built of Illusions

Hopefully sold.

A bracelet was looped over one of them. It looked like the work of an amateur Navajo artist. While pretty, it was an odd pairing with her sculptures. They didn’t match each other in style or tone or weight.

Before she could wonder further, Ang looped his arm around her. “Only two of these beauties left.”

Yes. They’d been sold.

Ang frowned as he picked up the bracelet. “Yours?”

“No. It was there when I came in.”

He held it up. “I’ll put it in the lost and found.”

“You have a lost and found?”

He grinned. “Of course not. I’ll toss it.”

Josie snatched it out of his hand with a grin. There had to be a little girl in her neighborhood who would like it.

Ang steered her to the back again. “We also sold three of your landscapes and two photographs.”

Her pulse rate popped and Josie let Ang lead her into a short jive. Seven pieces. She’d sold seven. That meant she could not only take a ride share back home but she could start saving for Vermont.

After leaving Josie the night before, Nico had worked on a profile for Kaleo for a few hours, but he’d managed a good night’s sleep, so his mind was sharper.

Of course, erotic dreams of Josie had filled the night, making him eager to drop back to sleep when he did wake up. Those dreams lingered in his psyche and he wanted to see her again, wanted to kiss her again. And he wanted a lot more.

He also didn’t want to rush her. In the years they’d known each other, he’d never heard her speak about a boyfriend. The woman was intensely private, but he didn’t recall even a mention or a slip of the tongue or a happy look about a new piece of jewelry she wore. And he would have noticed.

Except he hadn’t noticed her frugality. Her money situation worried him. Had she been spending all of her time surviving? That was bad enough. The fact that she’d turned down FBI money and spent hours and hours working for them made it more frustrating.

She’d been helping several teams for years. Payback would be in the tens of thousands of dollars. Had dragging her up to Vermont for a week caused her financial stress? He’d taken her away from her source of income without any compensation. He’d tried to put in for payment for her, but she’d refused to sign the paperwork. At least she’d accepted the flight. She probably thought the FBI had paid for that. He had no intention of telling her any differently.

Nico wanted to know more about her life. About her childhood and her teen years. No one was as guarded as Josie without reason. Someone would have done a background check on her when she’d first volunteered for the FBI. They didn’t let just anyone work with the teams. He could look it up, but he didn’t want to do that. He wanted to earn her trust and have her tell him. Would she?

Something about the paragraph he’d been skimming had Nico jerking his attention away from Josie and onto the case.

The report in front of him was about the murder in Houston back in October. Zoey Gutierrez. Twenty-five years old. Killed in a parking lot outside a gallery. The woman was a sculptor. Was it the mention of her profession that had snagged his attention? Because it reminded him of Josie?

He slowed down and read the report with more care. It was the list of personal items that had him pausing. Her purse had been spilled and the contents scattered around the lot, similar to several of the women.

He couldn’t figure out what had triggered his brain, so he pulled up the photographs attached to the file. Zoey had been another beautiful young woman who hadn’t deserved to die because of someone’s vendetta against his mother. Which made Nico realize he’d already decided she fit in with the group.

Why? What had his brain caught?

Frustrated, Nico printed out the pictures and attached them to the right-hand side of the board. Maybe he’d catch something similar to the other photos.

This time, Nico ignored the body and focused his attention on the items scattered on the ground. Wallet, keys, tissues, tampons, keychain, pens, notebooks, gallery pamphlet.

Nothing remarkable.

Was that the point?

Nico focused in on the keychain. It was a souvenir keychain showcasing the logo of the Houston Texans. Was that what had triggered his brain?

Zoey had lived in Houston. She was a sculptor, but that didn’t immediately prove that she wasn’t a football fan. He’d check her credit cards later. The keychain was a little tacky for someone who created art for a living. It didn’t have any keys on it, so he wondered if was meant to be a present for someone. Or maybe it had been a gift to her from a football loving niece or nephew.

Nico studied the photo, but his subconscious appeared to be done helping him out. Which usually meant he’d found a key piece of information. The keychain? Football? Tacky souvenirs?

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