| |
Kat’s hands were shaking when she climbed back into her car after leaving Rick’s house. It took her two tries before she managed to dial Andrew.
She listened to the phone ring, her heart plummeting when it went to voicemail. “Andrew, it’s Kat. I know you’re not keen on me butting into your investigations, but I discovered something I think you should know about. It concerns Nolan Calabresi. Call me.”
She tossed the phone onto the passenger seat and stared at it, mentally willing it to ring. But after thirty seconds passed in silence, she had to resign herself to the fact that Andrew wasn’t going to be phoning her back immediately. She sighed and started the car.
Her mind churned as she drove back to Cherry Hills. She wondered if she were blowing things out of proportion. After all, placing Nolan at Rick’s father’s house didn’t really prove anything. Dozens of people had stopped by Rick’s party that night. Any one of them could have stolen that car.
Still, Nolan hadn’t struck her as a very happy person. And although he seemed pretty proud of his paintings, from Kat’s point of view they merely served as proof that he had a lot of pent-up hostility inside of him.
Kat’s cell phone rang right after she crossed the Cherry Hills town limit. She pulled onto the gravel shoulder and grabbed it from the passenger seat. Spotting Andrew’s name on the caller ID, she couldn’t answer fast enough.
“I got your message,” he said, not bothering with a greeting. “I’m actually meeting with Wenatchee PD right now. We’re getting ready to bring Nolan in.”
“So you know about the necklace?” Kat asked.
“What necklace?”
“Nolan’s necklace, the one with the shark’s tooth attached to it.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I don’t have time to discuss it right now either. Can this wait until I get back into town?”
“Sure, I guess.” She knew she should let him go, but her curiosity got the better of her. “What evidence do the Wenatchee police have against Nolan?”
“We lifted a partial print off of that scrap of paper with Nikita’s address on it. Turns out Nolan’s in the system.”
Kat’s breath caught. “He’s killed before?”
“Assaults. He has a history of drinking too much when he goes out, then egging on anybody unfortunate enough to be within shouting distance.”
Kat could see that happening. Such behavior certainly fit with her image of the angst-ridden, bitter artist.
“Anyway, I’ve gotta go,” Andrew said.
She squeezed the phone, wishing it were his hand. “Be safe.”
“I will.”
She tossed her phone onto the passenger seat and stared out the windshield. She half wished Andrew had waited until after they’d arrested Nolan before he’d called her. Now her stomach would be doing flip-flops until she knew he was okay.
A red SUV zoomed past her car. She tracked it with her eyes, needing a moment to steady her nerves before she pulled back onto the road.
She was so lost in worry over Andrew that she didn’t realize she recognized the SUV until it had almost disappeared. It was the same vehicle she had seen Nolan Calabresi standing next to outside Fireside Gallery earlier.
Her heart clenched. Nolan was in Cherry Hills? What was he doing here? Did he know the police were looking for him in Wenatchee? If so, he could be on the run. Cherry Hills might not even be his final destination. For all she knew, he could currently be on his way to Mexico.
A burst of adrenaline pulsed through her bloodstream. She couldn’t let him get away. She would just have to follow him until she had a chance to call Andrew with news of where he was.
She reached for the gearshift and shoved her car into drive. Luckily, Nolan wasn’t going much faster than the speed limit. It didn’t take Kat long to catch up to him.
She expected him to continue down this road and out of town, but when he reached Spencer Street he veered left.
She hunched closer to the windshield. Nolan was headed back to the scene of the crime? Maybe he didn’t realize the police had already found that scrap of paper with Nikita’s address on it and he was coming back to look for it. That seemed like the most logical reason for him to be here.
Except, Nolan didn’t park at Nikita’s house. Instead, he pulled into the driveway of the pink house next door.
Kat’s foot slid toward the brake pedal. Confusion was making her vision blur. Nolan had come to Cherry Hills to see Imogene Little? But that didn’t make any sense. What could he possibly want with the Furry Friends Foster Families president?
Unless he thought she had witnessed the accident and had come back to silence her.
Panic seared through Kat’s lungs when Nolan disappeared through Imogene’s front door. She slammed her foot back down on the accelerator and steered with one hand while the other scrabbled blindly for her cell phone. After parking haphazardly behind Nolan’s SUV, she jumped out of the car and punched the speed dial for Andrew. She held the phone pressed to her ear as she raced up the driveway.
“Pick up,” she mumbled.
By the time she reached the front door, her hands were coated with sweat. Her heart was beating so loudly she wasn’t sure she would hear Andrew even if he did answer. She was considering just tossing the phone aside and going in herself when a voice came on the line.
“Andrew?” Kat was seized by a ray of hope.
“. . . leave a message . . .”
Voicemail. She wanted to scream in frustration. Unwilling to wait any longer, she pressed her finger down on Imogene’s doorbell.
“Andrew,” Kat said when the beep sounded, “get over to Imogene’s. Nolan’s here.”
She shoved the phone in her pocket and turned her attention to getting inside the house. Why wasn’t Imogene answering? She switched to pounding on the door, praying she wasn’t too late.
After what felt like an eternity, the door opened. Her heart jumped into her throat when Nolan came into view.
“What’s your hurry?” he said, his brows knit together.
She pushed past him. “Where’s Imogene?”
“She’s out. Hey, you okay?”
Kat didn’t respond, her eyes ricocheting around the room. “Imogene!” she shouted. But instead of Imogene, she saw Valerie sitting on the couch.
And, judging from the way Valerie was tugging her shirt back into place, Kat had interrupted her and Nolan while they were fooling around.
“This is my girlfriend, Val,” Nolan said, taking a seat next to her.
“We’ve met.” Kat drew in a deep breath. Some of her panic was subsiding now that no one seemed to be in immediate danger. “But I didn’t realize you two were dating.”
Valerie tilted her chin up. “Who I date is nobody’s business.”
Nolan set a proprietary hand on Valerie’s knee, and Kat formed the distinct impression that they were used to defending their relationship. She wondered if Nikita had tried to warn her sister away from Nolan—and if her meddling had been what had gotten her killed.
“If you’re looking for Imogene, she went shopping with Mom,” Valerie said. “They won’t be back for a while.”
Nolan snapped his fingers. “Hey, you’re that chick I ran into outside Fireside.”
“That’s right,” Kat confirmed. She was careful to stay on the other side of the room, unwilling to stand any closer to Nolan than necessary.
He bent forward. “I haven’t sold that painting yet, if you’re still interested. You can have it for a cool five Gs.”
Kat ignored him. “Did you know Nolan thinks your sister was a terrible artist?” she asked Valerie.
“She was,” Valerie replied.
Kat frowned. She hadn’t expected Valerie to stick up for her sister’s biggest detractor.
Valerie crossed her legs. “Niki’s art was nothing special.”
“She painted all that flowery junk, trees and butterflies and birds,” Nolan chimed in. He opened his mouth wide and stuck his forefinger past his teeth as though to mime someone gagging. “That’s not art. That’s commercial garbage. You want real art, look at my stuff. I have other paintings besides the one you saw.”
“I’ll pass,” Kat said.
The glint in Nolan’s eye dimmed a fraction, and Kat felt a ping of alarm. She hoped her rejection of his artwork didn’t spark his temper. Maybe she should have feigned interest until Andrew showed up.
That was assuming Andrew heard her message in time.
“Let me guess,” Valerie said, squinting at Kat. “You’re into that flowery stuff.”
Kat shrugged. “I’m not really into art at all. But I do like your sister’s paintings.”
Valerie snorted. “Join the club.”
“You don’t think she had talent?” Kat asked.
“Please.” Valerie rolled her eyes.
“Art should be full of passion and emotion, anger and lust and despair,” Nolan said. “The sorriness of the human condition. How we’re all powerless in this world.”
Kat glanced between Nolan and Valerie. She wondered if Valerie had disliked Nikita’s artwork before she’d started dating her current beau. More likely, he had turned her against her own sister.
“And people ate her stuff up!” Nolan bellowed.
Kat winced. In contrast, Valerie barely even blinked. Kat figured she must be used to his rants. What would she think when she found out he was more than just talk?
Clover moseyed out of Imogene’s office. He planted himself near the edge of the room and yawned. Nolan’s yelling seemed to have roused him from a nap.
“That cat hates me,” Valerie said. “He keeps staring at me.”
“Cats do that,” Kat told her. “It’s just their way.”
Valerie slumped against the couch. “I bet he liked Nikita. Everybody loved her.”
“Lemmings,” Nolan interjected. “Society fosters the lemming mindset. People would rather jump off a cliff or rave over a crummy piece of artwork than go against the clueless masses.”
Valerie nodded her agreement.
“And the lemmings of the world couldn’t get enough of Nikita’s so-called ‘art.’” Nolan made air quotes. “In the meantime, those of us who pour our souls into our creations are left with crumbs of recognition.”
“People like you, you mean?” Kat asked.
“Exactly. I toil for my art. I slave and sweat and sacrifice. When I lift up that paintbrush, it becomes an extension of my hand.” His hand shook as he gripped an imaginary paintbrush. “People like Nikita, they make a mockery of what this calling is supposed to be about. Real artists have a responsibility to depict the human condition in its full, sorry state. Mother Earth pieces like Nikita’s only detract from those of us who paint with passion.”
Kat planted her hands on her hips. “Is that why you killed her?”
Nolan jerked back as if she’d punched him. “What?”
“Why did you do it?” Kat pressed. “Is it because she was more successful than you?”
He straightened, seeming to regain some of his composure. “She wasn’t more successful than me.”
“She made more money than you, didn’t she?”
Nolan smacked his palm against his thigh. “It’s not about the money. It’s about making a statement. It’s about reaching deep inside, pulling out a piece of your soul, and putting it on the canvas. Nikita couldn’t do that. Her paintings aren’t any more special than something snapped with a cell phone camera. She had no talent, no—”
“Some of her paintings sold for almost a hundred grand after she died,” Kat interrupted. “Did you know that?”
Nolan gritted his teeth, his face turning red. Kat took that as a yes.
“By killing her, you only made her art more valuable,” Kat said. “How did that make you feel?”
She expected him to go off on another tirade, but instead his anger seemed to fade. “I didn’t kill her,” he said. “Why would I do that?”
“Jealousy.”
“Jealousy?” Nolan’s nostrils flared. “I had nothing to be jealous about. Nikita could never elevate her work to my level. She was a phony. You can give a monkey a paintbrush, but you can’t turn him into an artist.”
“Then it must really burn you that her pieces were more popular than yours.”
“That is the scourge I must live with, hacks rising to success while those of us with real talent are reduced to hawking our creations for pennies. It is the price I must pay to create from my soul. But I refuse to cater to the ignorant masses. They might not value my creations, but my conscience demands that I not succumb—”
Kat released a heavy sigh, tired of his dramatics. “If you’re looking for sympathy, you can forget it. No matter how you felt about Nikita, you can’t justify killing her.”
Nolan stood up, his hands balling into fists. “But I didn’t kill her!”
“Enough of this,” Valerie said, leaping off of the sofa. “Nolan didn’t kill Niki. I did.”
