Chương 2
“No, you don’t,” Arthur said.
The room became quiet again.
The gray-haired bidder who had been waiting to learn whether his $3.8 million offer had secured Woman at a Window lowered his paddle.
“Excuse me?”
Arthur turned toward the auctioneer.
“You cannot sell that painting tonight.”
Evelyn’s control slipped just enough to sharpen her voice.
“Arthur, you are not the consignor.”
“No.”
“Then unless you have an ownership order, a court instruction, or counsel standing next to you telling us otherwise, you don’t decide whether the sale continues.”
Arthur looked at the portrait.
The painted woman sat sideways beside a window, her dark hair pinned back. She was perhaps thirty. One hand rested on the sill. A narrow blue ribbon had been tied around her wrist.
The photograph Lily had slapped onto the table showed the same woman twenty years younger.
Different room. Different dress.
Same eyes.
Same narrow ribbon.
Arthur stared at it.
“Where did you get this?”
“My dad.”
“Where did he get it?”
“My grandmother’s closet.”
“Which grandmother?”
Lily gave him a look that suggested the question had been stupid.
“His mom.”
A few people laughed softly, mostly from discomfort.
Arthur did not.
“What was her name?”
“Margaret Carter.”
The auctioneer sat down without meaning to.
Evelyn looked at Maya. “Stop the feed.”
“It’s already stopped.”
“Then clear the room.”
Daniel said, “Not yet.”
Evelyn turned slowly toward him.
Daniel had worked for her for six years. They had disagreed over staffing, emergency procedures, intoxicated clients, private entrances, celebrity guests, and one memorable incident involving a collector’s son and an original Warhol. She had never before heard him tell her no in front of clients.
“Daniel.”
“There may be disputed property in the room.”
“There may be a child carrying old paper.”
“There are also thirty-seven guests with cameras and a security record showing where that paper first entered the building.”
Evelyn’s gaze moved to the nearest ceiling camera.
Another small mistake.
Daniel filed it away.
Arthur returned the certificate to the case.
Carefully.
“Close it,” he told Lily.
She did.
Daniel crouched so he was no longer towering over her.
“Is your father here?”
“No.”
“Does he know you’re here?”
Lily pushed wet hair away from her cheek.
Her pause answered him.
“Lily.”
“No.”
“How did you get in?”
She looked toward the service corridor.
Daniel looked too.
Maya exhaled through her nose.
“The catering elevator,” she said.
Lily looked offended. “It was open.”
“It is not supposed to be.”
“I didn’t open it.”
Daniel stood.
He touched his earpiece again. “Check B-level service access from twenty minutes ago. Save it separately.”
Evelyn’s mouth tightened.
Arthur watched Daniel.
“You think someone let her in?”
“I think I want to know.”
“I came by myself,” Lily said.
“That doesn’t mean nobody helped you without asking.”
Lily seemed to consider that, then reluctantly accepted it.
Daniel pointed to the photograph.
“Put that back in the case.”
“The auction people need to see it.”
“They’ve seen it.”
“They didn’t believe my dad.”
“Right now I’m trying to make sure nobody can say you changed, added, lost, or damaged anything.”
Her expression shifted.
It was the first time that evening an adult had explained a rule in a way that did not sound like a command disguised as concern.
She put the photograph inside.
Daniel closed the lid and did not touch it again.
“Who can take custody?” he asked.
“My dad.”
“He’s not here.”
“My aunt.”
“Where is she?”
Lily pressed her lips together.
Daniel waited.
The thunder rolled again.
“Probably looking for me.”
Dana Morales was, in fact, looking for her.
She arrived eleven minutes later wearing navy scrub pants, a raincoat thrown over a hospital top, and the expression of a woman who had committed three traffic violations while imagining every terrible thing that might happen to a missing child in Manhattan.
The elevator doors opened.
“Lily!”
Lily stood so quickly her knee struck Arthur’s chair.
Dana crossed the room.
She did not care about Arthur Whitmore, the halted auction, the million-dollar paintings, the guests, the cameras, or the fact that Evelyn Marsh visibly objected to being splashed with water from Dana’s raincoat.
She caught Lily by both shoulders.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Did anyone touch you?”
“No.”
“Did you get in a car with anybody?”
“Aunt Dana—”
“Answer me.”
“No.”
Dana shut her eyes.
Her hands stayed on Lily’s shoulders.
Then she opened them.
“You left your phone in your backpack.”
“I know.”
“You climbed out the laundry stairwell.”
“The alarm doesn’t work.”
“That is not helpful.”
“I had to come.”
“You are twelve.”
“I know how old I am.”
“You clearly do not.”
Lily’s face tightened.
Daniel moved one step nearer but did not interrupt.
Dana saw him.
Then his badge.
Then the security staff near the doors.
“Oh, God.”
“She’s not in trouble,” Daniel said.
Dana laughed once. There was no humor in it.
“That sentence has never meant anything good.”
“She disrupted the sale.”
Lily said, “Because they were selling Dad’s stuff.”
Dana turned toward her.
Silence.
Not disbelief.
Recognition.
“You brought the case?”
Lily nodded.
Dana’s face changed completely.
“Lily.”
“He told me Mr. Whitmore would know the seal.”
“He also told you never to carry that case out of the apartment.”
“He said that before they put the painting online.”
“That does not change—”
“They were selling Grandma Margaret.”
Dana stopped.
Lily pointed at Woman at a Window.
Dana looked at the portrait.
Her anger did not disappear. It simply had to share space with something else.
“Jesus.”
Evelyn stepped forward.
“Ms.—”
“Morales.”
“Ms. Morales, I’m Evelyn Marsh. I run Harcourt & Venn. We need to establish exactly what the child brought into our premises.”
Dana stared at her.
“The child has a name.”
“Of course.”
“You heard it.”
Evelyn took that without visible reaction.
“Our lawyers are on the way.”
“So are mine,” Arthur said.
Everyone looked at him.
Dana gave him a long, tired inspection.
“You’re Whitmore.”
May you like
“Yes.”
“Owen hates you.”
