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Without a response, Nick went straight to his bathroom and shut the door, stripping out of his clothes and turning on the water, thankful that there was hot water in the tank before the power went out. He opened the shutters to let some light in and looked out the window. Against all logic, he saw Julia’s Lexus, which he had taken out of the driveway and rammed into the blue Chevy, destroying the front end of the Japanese SUV. It sat in the driveway, its black waxed finish without even a scratch.
Unfortunately, he realized as he turned, looked into the mirror, and saw the damage, that wasn’t the case for him.
He had two small burns above his left eyebrow from the airbag, along with a cut on his right cheek. The small scrapes, dirt, and grime made him appear as if he had just emerged from battle, which was how his body actually felt.
He hid his pistol underneath the stack of dark-blue towels and hopped into the shower. He was suddenly aware of his host of injuries as the hot water hit his raw skin. His body felt far worse than after a hockey game full of major checking and fights. As he chased Julia’s killer, as he rolled from the car and became pi
He soaped up, rinsed quickly, and was out of the shower in less than two minutes. He realized that he literally had no time to waste, he had only eight hours left to figure out a way to stop Julia’s killer, and the only way he was going to be able to do that was by finding out why he was after her in the first place.
“Care to explain?” Julia stood in the open doorway as she pointed at the muddy and bloody clothes on the floor.
Nick wrapped a thick white towel around his waist.
“My God, what happened?” she said as she saw the burns and the cut on his cheek.
“No big deal.” Nick tried to slough it off.
“No big deal? It looks like someone made a big deal about your face.”
“You should see the Mets fan in the baseball cap.”
“What happened to you?”
“Car accident.”
“Car accident? Whose car?”
He had no idea how to answer as he glanced out the window at her car in the driveway. Life was ru
“I stopped to help someone who dumped their car in a ditch; I slipped a bit.”
She looked deep into his eyes, not buying a word he said.
He quickly walked by her to his closet. “Tell me again, why weren’t you on the plane?”
“You’re changing the subject.”
Nick threw off his towel as he quickly put on a pair of briefs and Levi’s 501 jeans. He was amazed to find his wallet on his dresser. It had been taken by the police at 9:00 P.M., but here it was now, four hours earlier, where it had been for most of the day before he grabbed it at 5:30 in order to get a credit card number. He shook off the warped déjà-vu moment and turned to Julia with the most serious of looks. “Julia, I need to know what pulled you off that plane.”
Julia stared for a moment, though she finally relented, a
Julia paused, tears welling up. Nick gently laid his hand on her face, stroking it, pulling her into a reassuring hug as she began to sob.
“All those people. They all sat on that plane with such hope in their eyes,” Julia said, her voice cracking. “Heading off to see friends and family; a business trip that they promised their kid they’d hurry back from; people going on vacation. None of them ever imagining they would all soon be…”
“Julia,” Nick gently said, trying to bring her back to the moment. “Why did you get off the plane?”
“There was a robbery.” She looked up at him.
“A robbery? What kind of robbery?”
Julia pulled away from Nick. She briefly went into his bathroom, returning with a tissue, dabbing her eyes, wiping away her grief.
“There’s a large colonial home over on Maple Avenue called Washington House. It belongs to a man by the name of Shamus He
“I know the house, Julia.” Nick said, trying to hurry her along.
“Well, it’s a bit more than some colonial remnant. They have kept the insides updated and reinforced with concrete and steel. While it is He
“Warehouse for what?”
“The He
“The tastes of Ian’s son, Stephan Francis, were a bit more traditional. He collected fine art and statuary, jewelry and sculptures. And his son, Shamus, his passions are more benevolent. He would loan certain pieces of their collections out to museums around the world but always refused to sell them.
“I’m not sure if you remember, but a few years back, I was assigned as not only the junior attorney appointed to handle He
“So, while you were waiting to take off, you were beeped?” Nick asked in confusion.
“It’s quite a bit more than a beep.” She smiled. “But yeah. A text message, actually.”
“What did they take?”
“There was a velvet pouch with over two hundred diamonds, four gold swords and two silver rapiers, three sabers, five jewel-encrusted daggers, three gold-inlaid pistols along with their silver ammunition. All told, over $25 million.”
Nick listened to her every word convinced that her future death was 100 percent related to what she had just told him. “What did you do when you got off the plane?”
“Headed over there, straight away. I wasn’t sure yet if there had been a robbery; I thought it might have been a false alarm.”
“What about the police?”
“The He
“A little cynical,” Nick said. “Don’t you think?”
“They call it eccentric.”
“You mean high-class crazy?”
“If you ever met him, you’d think differently. He’s probably the sanest, nicest man I’ve ever met. When I was first assigned to him, he sent me the kindest note. He has taken me to lunch dozens of times. He’s so charming and wise. He’s given me such great advice about my career, business, life…”