“Can you do his signature?” Julian asked. “There’s no one here to see it isn’t him.”
Kelly grudgingly signed Nick’s name on the red slip.
“You’re taking all the blame for this,” he told Julian. “And I’m telling him you stole that badge.”
“Understood.” Julian pulled a knife from somewhere inside his jacket and slit the tape along the edge. When he tried the door, though, it was locked. He pulled a lockpick set out of another pocket, and knelt to work on it.
“How many pockets do you have in that thing?” Kelly asked.
Julian chuckled grimly. “You have no idea.” The door popped open, and Julian replaced his tools and stepped inside.
It was dim and dusty, and the smell of old paper and leather was overwhelming. Kelly headed to the car and rummaged through the back for a flashlight. He found a heavy Maglite, along with other supplies that might come in handy in the next few days if this led to a treasure hunt like he expected. He rejoined Julian, and clicked the flashlight on.
It played over the mess that was left of the shop. “Jesus.
Why’d they tear it apart?”
“I suspect they didn’t actually find what they were looking for and this was either anger or desperation. Perhaps even a brawl. At this point, with little to no success, the rats may be turning on each other.” Julian made his way carefully to the display case that seemed to have taken the brunt of the attack.
“How many of them are there?”
“Two to five. I’m not sure of their exact number,” Julian answered, but he was distracted by the case. “Bring that torch here.”“Torch,” Kelly echoed. “Oh, I miss the English.”
“I’m not English, I’m Irish.”
“Same thing,” Kelly teased. He stepped over a pile of scattered books and shone the light on the display case.
Julian placed his palm over what looked like a handprint in the dust. Then he swept his hand through the air, curling his fingers into a fist as he did so, hovering over another hinted outline of a print. The action seemed to mimic perfectly what someone had done to the display case.
“They wiped it down?” Kelly asked.
“I’m not sure. It could be a grab for whatever sat here. This case is extremely old, look.” Julian tapped his fingers on the corner. “Dark walnut with cabriole legs and dovetail joints. I believe this itself is a Colonial era piece.”
“Is that important?”
Julian fingered the wood like he was looking for something, but he shrugged. “I’m not sure. It’s possible it was part of a collection of items, all from the same era. I don’t know.” He straightened with a sigh and glanced around the shop. “Whoever destroyed the rest of this store, though, left this case intact. I wager they knew it was antique and couldn’t bring themselves to touch it.”
“Murderers with a respect for history. Huh. I wonder what led them here,” Kelly said as he began to explore the narrow, dusty aisles. “How far ahead of you were they in all this?”
“Too far. Much too far.”
Nick sat at his desk, hunched over files and notes and several books he’d had one of the summer interns go find for him at a nearby bookstore. He didn’t realize he was no longer alone until someone tapped him on the shoulder.
“You chasing down a lead?” Hagan asked him.
“Uh . . .” Nick’s eyes darted to JD, who was beside Hagan, craning his head to see the books on Nick’s desk. “Yeah. Yeah, I am.”
Hagan threw himself into his chair and clunked his boots on the desk. “What you got?”
Nick glanced at JD again and gestured for him to sit.
After a few seconds of trying to decide how best to word it, he simply said, “We found out who you are.”
JD’s eyes widened and he sat forward, a smile playing across his lips. “You’re serious?”
Nick nodded.
“You don’t look happy,” JD said, dread creeping into his voice. “Oh God, I’m someone horrible, aren’t I?”
Nick picked up one of the books he’d sent for. “You actually seem like a pretty interesting character,” he said, and he set it down in front of JD.
JD eyed the book, then Nick from beneath lowered brows. “I don’t understand.”
Nick picked it up again and turned it over. On the back cover was a photo of JD wearing aviators and a canvas military-style jacket, standing on a mountain with Machu Picchu in the background.
“That’s me!” JD he grabbed the book, pointing at the photo and then turning it over to see the title. “I’m an archaeologist?”
“The professor I spoke with probably wouldn’t agree. She basically said you’re a hack.”
JD burst out laughing, then covered his mouth and nodded. “I can deal with being a hack. Oh my God.”
Nick raised his head in time to catch sight of Kelly and Julian entering the squad room. He raised his hand and waved them over when the desk sergeant tried to stop them.
“Casey Hunt.” JD set the book down gently, his fingers resting on the cover. “It doesn’t sound familiar.”
“What’s going on?” Kelly asked as they approached.
“We got an ID on him,” Nick answered.
“Yeah?” Nick could see the hesitation in Kelly’s eyes. He obviously knew the chances of JD being a good guy were slim.
“That’s good, right?”
Nick didn’t answer. He knocked his knuckles against the desk instead.
“I’m apparently . . . a lot braver than I feel,” JD commented as he paged through the book. He looked a little crestfallen, even though they’d just had a major breakthrough.
“You okay?” Nick asked.
“Yeah. I was just hoping learning my name would . . .
throw a latch or something, you know? Make me remember.
It doesn’t even feel right, though. Hell, JD feels more like my name than Casey.”
Kelly sat on the edge of the desk, glancing at Nick again.
“It takes three days to develop a new habit. We’ve been cal ing you JD for three days, so . . .”
“Yeah, I guess,” JD murmured. “Can you keep cal ing me that? Just for a while, I mean.”
“Whatever you want,” Nick said quietly. He pointed at Julian and Kelly. “Can I see you two for a minute?”
They followed along without question, heading for one of the interrogation rooms. Julian glanced around the box uneasily as soon as the door closed behind them.
“Ever been in one of these?” Nick asked him in amusement.
He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms out of habit.
It was always his first position when questioning a suspect.
Julian rolled his eyes, but he refused to sit at the table.
“What are you two doing here?” Nick asked them.
“We found something,” Julian answered.
Nick’s eyebrows rose. “At the bookstore?”
Kelly had been kicking at the legs of the table, which were bolted down, but he pulled up short. “How’d you know we went to the bookstore?”
“It’s the only lead you had, and neither of you strikes me as the type who’d look shit up on the internet or in a book. Did you get anything?”
“Not really,” Julian admitted. “Looking over the scene, though, I felt as if they missed something. They went for the case first, where they thought it would be, then they ransacked the place when it wasn’t there.”
Nick nodded. “Crime scene analysts came back with a blow-by-blow. They said the shopkeeper surprised one man coming out of the store. Guy opened fire, killing the owner.
And judging by the trajectory, he’s the one who clipped JD.
Meaning JD was walking away from the bookstore, toward the street. The others were in the street, likely by their van waiting. They opened fire on their own guy after he shot the owner, blew him away, took out the windows, left everyone for dead. Left the books the guy took. As soon as there was bloodshed, they bailed. Complete mission failure.”
“This is the first murder to take place,” Julian pointed out.
“Perhaps they killed him to take the heat for it. Or perhaps he turned on them.”
Nick shrugged.
“Wait a minute, if the first shots clipped JD, that means he was standing between the store and the van,” Kelly pointed out. “What was he doing there? Why would they let him get that close instead of diverting him? And why do you look so pissy when you just broke his identity, what’s wrong?”
Nick sighed heavily. “He’s a professional treasure hunter.
He has a degree from Columbia University, works out of a museum in New York. He’s got a reputation for going into dangerous areas and getting out unscathed with local shiny things. He’s also been accused of selling items on the black market, but there’s no proof.”
“Oh,” Kelly said, and his shoulders slumped.
“And you’re right. They wouldn’t have let him get between them and the store,” Nick continued. “Not unless he was one of theirs to begin with.”
“That’s a shame,” Julian said. “I was beginning to like him.
His sketch of Cameron notwithstanding.”
“What I want to know,” Nick said heatedly, “is if there was only one man inside, and his shit was still in his bag when they left him there, who the fuck has those missing artifacts now?”
Kelly and Julian both fell silent, frowning at Nick. Nick had been asking himself that all morning. The thieves hadn’t gotten away with anything, the evidence suggested as much.
But there were still two things missing. So where the hell were they? And why hadn’t they been where they were supposed to be?
“Well,” Julian finally said, taking a deep breath. “I suppose you should go ask your amnesiac that question.”
“What’s wrong?” JD asked Nick as soon as he saw him.
Kelly was right on Nick’s heels, trying to calm him, trying to keep him from blowing up. That had always been his job, and he was good at it on the rare occasions when he had to do it. Nick rarely even came close to losing his temper, but when it happened it was seriously impressive. And scary, for anyone who didn’t know him. Kelly got in front of him and put both hands on his chest.
“Breathe and think, O,” he ordered.
Nick lowered his head, and his eyes glinted when he met Kelly’s. “I’m calm. Let me do my job.”
Kelly knew when he’d been beat; he stepped aside and held his hands up. Nick grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair, pul ing it up on two wheels and then toppling it over as the leather dragged it down. It clattered to the ground, and both Hagan and JD stood in alarm.
“What happened?” Hagan demanded.
“Order up an unmarked, we’re going for a ride,” Nick said.
He took JD by the elbow and led him toward the door.
Kelly hurried to right the chair Nick had left in his wake, then shrugged in response to Hagan’s questioning look and jogged after his lover. He caught up to them in the stairwell.
“What’s going on, what happened?” JD kept asking.
“New evidence,” Nick snarled. “Need you to walk us through something.”
JD’s eyes were still wide and confused, but he was smart enough to stay quiet. Even Kelly kept his mouth shut until they were in the parking lot.
“Nick,” he finally demanded, and he grabbed at Nick’s elbow. He turned him until they were facing each other, trying to make Nick look into his eyes and realize he was spiraling out of control. Kelly didn’t want to divert the spiral, because he was of the opinion that JD needed to see what he was messing around with if he was faking. But he didn’t want to be left behind, either. “Where are we going, and what do you want us to do?”
Nick’s eyes darted over Kelly’s face, then to Julian, who was silently following along. “You two follow us in my car.”
Kelly nodded and let him go.
Hagan held up the keys to the unmarked sedan he’d requisitioned, and Kelly stood aside and watched Nick shove JD into the backseat and slam the door.
Julian clucked his tongue, then sauntered over to the Range Rover. But Kelly remained rooted to the spot for another few seconds. Nick hated being lied to, despised it with more passion than anything, even the New York Yankees.
God help JD if he was trying to play Nick with a lie. God help them al .
Once on the road, Kelly had a hard time keeping up with Hagan until Julian casually flicked on the flashing dashboard light. They shared a look, both of them trying not to grin and failing.
“I could get used to this,” Julian drawled.
“Hell yeah.”
When they reached the bookstore again, Nick was already out of the car and standing in the middle of the street. They’d parked their vehicle with its lights flashing across the narrow lane to block traffic, and Nick was waving to Kelly, telling him where to park the Range Rover.
Kelly angled it, glancing around uneasily. He kept having to remind himself that Nick was a real cop on a real case and everything he did was with the appropriate authority. Kelly hoped it was, at least.
He got out of the Range Rover, his hand going to the butt of the gun under his jacket out of habit. He rarely wore a weapon on his hip anymore, but he was getting used to the feeling of having it there again.
Nick strode toward them and pointed to a chalk marking on the ground. “Shooter right here,” he said to Kelly. “Stand there. Bullet holes in the building put the shooter facing this way. Don’t move.”
