She seemed genuinely concerned for your safety.”
“Well . . .” I was about to launch into an accurate description of Frances, but stopped myself before getting the first negative word out. Why spoil Nadia’s happy impression? No good would come of that. “She’s certainly efficient.”
“That’s wonderful to hear. I’m so pleased to know that you’re working with other good souls. People can make or break a job, you know.”
Before I could respond, she switched gears. When she spoke again, her tone was serious.
“I’m sorry to bring more trouble your way, Grace, and I sincerely hope it turns out to be nothing . . .”
I sat up, pressing the phone tighter to my ear. With Nadia in California and me in North Carolina, I couldn’t imagine what trouble might be brewing. Unless . . .
“My sister hasn’t been in touch with you?” I asked, feeling oddly breathless. “Last I heard she was out West. Please tell me she hasn’t hit you up for a loan.”
Nadia put my fears to rest immediately. “No, honey. Don’t worry. It’s not about Liza.”
“Thank goodness.”
My sister was currently missing in action, but fears about her returning to wreak havoc on my life never drifted far enough from my mind to give me peace. I longed for the day when I could relax completely, but I knew my sister too well to believe she would ever stay out of my life for good. My only hope was that it would be years, not months, before I heard from her again. Maybe by then I’d be strong enough to forgive her. Despite the fact that I was better off without my former fiancé, Eric, the memory of their dual duplicity still made my throat catch. Sisters didn’t do that to one another—at least not sisters who cared.
Nadia had been shuffling papers. “Here it is,” she said, although I couldn’t see what it was she referred to. “I made a few notes so I wouldn’t forget the details.”
“I’m listening.”
“First of all, everything I’m about to share is strictly confidential. We’re working with the authorities and carefully monitoring how much information will be released to the media when the story eventually breaks.”
“This sounds serious.”
“It is. Grace, we’ve been robbed. Three items of great historical significance, not to mention considerable worth, are gone. A few smaller pieces have been taken as well.”
I sucked in a breath. “What’s missing?”
“I wish I could tell you, but I’m under strict orders not to share more than absolutely necessary.” Her voice lowered. “It seems there have been other thefts at other historical sites like ours over the past couple of years. I can tell you this much: They have a specific MO. That’s the term for ‘modus operandi,’” she added helpfully. I knew that, but let her continue. “They snatched the smaller pieces early on. The theory is that’s how they start. Kind of a practice. A dry run.”
“What did you do when the first pieces went missing?”
“We began an investigation, of course, but that’s where it gets interesting,” she said. “Their timing was perfect—too perfect to be coincidental. They stole the first few items mere days before we’d scheduled a giant fund-raiser.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Kane supports many worthwhile charities but we rarely host them on-site. Insurance concerns, you understand. This time, however, we’d planned a gala fund-raiser to benefit at-risk teens. We not only opened our doors to four hundred generous donors, we invited thirty disadvantaged teens as well.”
I still wasn’t getting it, but Nadia hadn’t finished explaining.
“The three major pieces we lost?” she continued. “They disappeared during the event.”
“Oh, no.”
“Oh, yes. The thieves started a small fire during the party. You can imagine the chaos and fear that caused. Fortunately, no lives were lost. What’s important to note is that the disturbance provided a diversion. While guests and