Cait’s mind raced like a rat in a maze as she recalled the letter Tasha had written to her brother, Cait’s dad. She was pregnant and said her baby’s father wasn’t in the picture. Does Kenneth think I’m that baby? Is that why he’s here? Not because of Chip Fallon? Not for the painting?Was it all a ruse to get to know me?
“Cait? What’s wrong?” Alt asked. “If the painting is important to you . . . well, at least I’ll know where it is. Or I could pay you for it.”
Cait inhaled deeply as she watched deep affection wash over his face as he stared at the painting. He doesn’t see me as his child; he only has eyes for Tasha. Relief spread through her like wildfire. “I might consider lending it to you. I never noticed it because I spend so little time on this floor.” She held her hand out for a closer look at the painting.
He handed it to her.
She studied Tasha’s face, trying to compare it to the old photo RT’s mother had given her. The photo had been taken when Tasha was still in New York City, about the time the painting was done. The paint appeared grainy and settled into the texture of the paper. Cait turned the painting over and noticed a scrap of paper taped to the back—Face in Motion.
She turned the painting back to the front. “Interesting title. Who named it? The artist?”
He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his forehead. “I did. Tasha’s vibrant face fascinated me. So alive.”
Cait looked at Kenneth with renewed interest. Under all that pompous, overbearing demeanor lived a romantic. She’d misjudged him. As a crime analyst, she’d been known for her razor-sharp analysis of people. She’d trained hard and worked hard, but since moving to California her skills had slipped.
“I wish you’d known Tasha,” he said.
“Me, too.” How different my life would be if I had known her. She continued to study Tasha’s face and the gray shadow of Kenneth lurking in the background. “I like the silhouette of you. It adds interest. Is the squiggle at the bottom the artist’s signature?”
He nodded. “R for Raven.”
“Why isn’t the painting framed?”
“It was, before it was stolen.”
“Why would someone steal it and then return it without the frame? Any idea who the thief was?”
He scoffed. “We assumed an ex-boyfriend of Tasha’s and that he had a change of heart and brought it back a month later.”
Ex-boyfriend? “How’d he know about the painting?”
“He knew Raven and saw it in her studio. He wanted to buy it, but Tasha refused.”
Cait wanted to know more about the ex-boyfriend, but she had to decide what to do with the painting. Lend it to Kenneth? Hang it back on the wall?
“Cait? Are you up here?” a familiar voice called.
“In the bedroom, Marcus.” She peeked out the door and saw him. He had a worried look on his face. “We found what Kenneth was looking for.”
Marcus glanced at the painting Cait held. “Looks like Tasha.”
“It is. Did you know it was here?”
He shook his head. “I built the bookcases in the sitting room, but I had no reason to come in the bedroom.”
“Kenneth would like to have it,” she said. “What do you think?” Knowing how Marcus felt about Tasha, she thought he might want it. That would present another dilemma.
He shrugged. “Up to you. It’s not a good likeness of her.”
Cait smiled. “At least you’re honest.”
“Tasha was twenty-nine when this was painted,” Kenneth said. “For me, the painting is personal.”
Marcus’s head snapped up. “How personal?”
Kenneth smirked. “None of your business. Cait, what’s your decision? Will you sell it to me?”
“I’ll think it over and let you know.” She rehung the painting on the wall. Another dang complication.
“I don’t think you should let him have the painting,” Marcus said after Kenneth left and they were in the kitchen.
RT walked in from the office, accompanied by the two police officers. “What painting?”
“A watercolor of Tasha painted when she was in New York,” Cait said. “Kenneth wants it.”
“Show it to me before you let it go,” RT said. “We’ve just come from the cave. I hope Ilia got all the pictures he needs, because it’s sealed now. I assume the car with Oregon plates in the parking lot belongs to Alt. Unless Wally’s a phantom, he’s nowhere around here.”
“Then I’ll run into town,” she said. “The cupboards are bare.”
“I’ll take you later,” RT said.
“You know I have a gun.”
“Come on, Cait. As soon as we catch this jackass, you can go to the moon alone if you want. Just not now.”
When RT and the officers left, her cell rang. Shep’s name appeared on the display. “What’s up?”
“I found out Calder Manning is on his way there.”
“He didn’t waste time.”
“He’ll call you. He doesn’t have your address, so don’t worry about him showing up on your doorstep. Got more background on him you might be interested in. He wrote his dissertation on medieval history. As a grad student, part of his training was teaching undergrads, but it didn’t take him long to decide he didn’t like the rigidity of the academic lifestyle. He thought he was better suited to be a reporter.”
“So he’s smart.”
“I wanted you to know about his interest in medieval history. Maybe he’s in love with Shakespeare.”
“I wonder what he knows about halberds.”
“You might get a chance to ask him. He racked up his share of near misses in Afghanistan and Libya. Almost forgot the cardinal rule of war reportage: don’t die. Might account for the scar above his eyebrow. I wonder about this sudden interest in Wally.”
“Could be as simple as saving him from the same fate as Hank,” Cait said.
“You don’t believe that, do you?”
“I can always hope.”
“Just in case, make sure your Navy boy’s around when Manning gets there. Call me when you hear from Manning. Be safe.”
“Are you expecting trouble from this guy Manning?” Marcus asked when she finished the call.
“I always expect trouble, particularly with Wally here.” The sooner she could get back to running a festival and her viticulture class at the local college, the happier she’d be.
“I can go to the store for you,” Marcus said.
Cait grinned. “Great! I’ll add chocolate and coffee to the list.” More caffeine. Just what don’t I need. What I do need is time away from here, like a visit to the ranch.