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“Your boss’s office has been giving me the run-around,” Wilkes said. “I’m kinda sick ofit.”
“As far as I know, the case has been transferred to the Boston fieldoffice.”
“Ah, that’s convenient, isn’t it?” Wilkes said. “But I’m not here for what happened with the ROC. But I do have questions about LiamWatts.”
I couldn’t stand behind Tyler anymore, so I walked around him. “Liam is dead, Agent Wilkes. What could you possibly want to know abouthim?”
The fed smiled, but there was malice in his grin. “A couple of weeks ago, we found the body of a missing FBI agent. He was six months from retirement.” The haunted flash in Wilkes’ eyes indicated that he knew the guy well. “We have evidence that links Watts to his murder.” His eyes sharpened and pinned me with a calculating stare. “Do you know why he killed him, Ms.Callahan?”
The dead guy must be the fed Liam was after who had the keys to the self-storageunit.
Oh, Liam, what did youdo?
“I don’t think Liam killed him,” I replied, doing my best to hold Wilkes’ gaze. “But he can’t defend himself, can he? He’s dead.” I repeated, my voice hoarse. “What do you hope to accomplish by pursuingthis?”
“The agent’s body showed signs that he was tortured forinformation.”
“Sounds like a ROC M.O.” Isaid.
“Ms.Callahan…”
“You’re done,” Tyler ordered. “Ms. Callahan has been through enough. I suggest you contact Mr. Thorne’s office if you want an audience, but the better option is to drop this if your suspect is Watts. The man is dead. You saw hisbody.”
“No, I didn’t,” the fedreplied.
“What?” Blairewhispered.
“I never saw a body because it never arrived at the medical examiner’s office. Some bullshit agency whisked the bodies of Watts and his menaway.”
“AndOrlov?”
Wilkes smiled grimly. “Orlov and his crew are dead-dead. Don’t worry about that.” He searched my face, reading something in it and sighed. “I guess you knownothing.”
I wouldn’t say I knew nothing, but I didn’t know about Liam’s body never getting to the ME’s office. They took three weeks to process it. “Maybe it was the BostonFeds.”
“It’s not,” Wilkes said. “I guess I need to pay a visit to hisdaughter.”
He started to turn away, but I called his attention. “Agent Wilkes. Liam had not seen his daughter in six years. The next time she saw him, she had to bury him. Let thisgo.”
Wilkes studied me for long seconds before he inclined his head, walked past Bobby, andleft.
I didn’t realize my heart was pounding until I leveled my gaze at Tyler. “Could Liambe…?”
“He had no pulse, Blaire,” my bodyguard reminded me. His voice was too gentle, almost as if he pitied me. “You attended hisfuneral.”
I kept my tears at bay and took several breaths to calm my racing heart. I needed to move on. When my composure returned, I looked at Jeff and pasted a smile on my face. “Shall we look at thepaintings?”
* * *
The contentsof the first crate lay before us. Six paintings, each secured in a tee-frame and wrapped in polyethylene. Jeff and I were crouched in front of one as he carefully sliced through the tape that secured theplastic.
“Shipping masterpieces internationally has become harder,” Jeff said as he reverently peeled the layers of covering from the three-foot by two-foot painting. “It’s fortunate Mr. Thorne has the money and connections to make things happen. Otherwise it would have taken months instead of weeks to get these pieceshere.”
“That long?” I murmured as I turned the artwork on itslength.
“Museums plan for a year. Galleries for a couple of months. Most of them have to pass through an airline subcontractor who may have to repack them if the crate tests for explosives.” Jeff shuddered at the thought and so did I. “A painting that costs millions could end up ruined with a slice from a boxcutter.”
“Grant facilitated thetransfer?”
