“It was Kenneth’s attempt to recreate my work,” she said.
Andy looked at her, looked at these pieces, and said, “They don’t deserve to be anywhere near your work. These are awful and disgusting, the product of a crazed mind.”
“Exactly,” she said. “But, for him, this was a success. Because he did what he thought he could do. So, if nothing else, he died a happy man.”
“And that’s too damn bad,” Richard said beside her. “Because all these people didn’t.”
As she turned to take in the whole room, her skin paled as she stared at the number of canvases laid out in front of her. “Oh, my God,” she said. “How many people did he kill?”
“I don’t know,” Richard said. “It’ll take us a long time to find out.” He pulled her into his arms again. “But that’s not your problem tonight.” He looked over at Andy. “We’ve got a long night ahead of us.” Just as the backup units began to fill the apartment, Richard’s phone rang. “First, you need to tell Frankie that it’s all okay.”
She took the phone from him and answered it. “Frankie, I’m fine.”
“Oh, my God,” he screamed into the phone. “What happened?”
“Let’s just say I came very close to becoming a permanent masterpiece,” she whispered. “I’m exhausted but okay. Richard saved me by the stroke of death.”
“My God,” Frankie said, his trembling evident through the phone.
“Listen. Go home. Take your girlfriend with you, and enjoy life for a day or two. I’ll contact you in a few days.”
Taking the phone back, Richard said, “Frankie, Andy will get cut you all lose over there as soon as we can. There will be plenty of follow-up to do, but sit tight, and we’ll process everybody out of there.”
“Thank you,” Frankie said, “for—you know.”
“I know.”
Andy was off to the side, already on the phone, issuing instructions.
“Can I go home now?” Cayce asked, her whole body shaking.
“Yes, you can.”
She walked over and reached out a trembling finger against the piece that held the masterpiece that was once Elena. “I want that piece,” she said, “to bury with Elena.”
“And you can have it,” Richard said. “I just don’t know how long it will take to get it all processed.”
She swallowed, visibly upset, and nodded. “Please, please just take me home.”
He hesitated a moment. “I’ll take you home, but I can’t stay.”
“Of course not,” she said, her voice thick. “But that’s okay, I understand.”
“Do you?” His voice held doubt because he’d been in plenty of relationships where they hadn’t understood, not at all.
She stroked his cheek gently and said, “I do understand. And, if you can handle me and my crazy painting hours, I can handle you and your crazy cop hours.”
He reached over, and, in the tenderest moment that he’d ever offered to anyone, he kissed her with all his heart. “I’ll get there as soon as I can.”
“Good,” she said. “And, whenever that is, I’ll be waiting.”
Chapter 27
Cayce heard Richard come in, but she was half asleep. She could see that the room had some light coming in around the curtains and realized what a long night he’d had. When he slid into her bed and wrapped his arms around her, she murmured something to him, but his warm voice against her ear whispered, “Sleep.” And she drifted back under.
When she awoke a second time, she saw him beside her, crashed, dark rings under his eyes, and she realized what a terrible toll the last several days had taken on him. As she tried to sneak out of bed and not disturb him, his arm slid over her, tucked her up against him, and nudged her closer.
She immediately turned over, slid her arm across his chest, and whispered, “I didn’t want to wake you. You’re exhausted.”
He smiled, but his eyes remained closed. “I am,” he said, “but it’s over. We’re here. We’re together, and there’s an awful lot we have to be thankful for.”
She lay her head on his shoulder and whispered, “Thank you for that.”
“I didn’t do anything,” he said, “nothing more than my job.”
She gently pinched his skin.
“Ouch,” he said. “What was that for?”
“Just wondering if that means, whenever someone is threatened, you’ll feel the need to move into their beds.”
He chuckled, the sound bubbling up through his chest. “Okay, so maybe it wasn’t just my job.”
“I should hope not.”
He rolled over, suddenly pinning her beneath him on the bed. His eyes were open and a deep, deep blazing blue as he stared down into hers. “That we have shared a bed over these recent days,” he said, “you have no idea how grateful I am that you’re still alive and here with me now.”
She smiled up at him cheerily. “Oh, I think I do,” she said. “I’m pretty grateful about it myself.” She reached up and kissed him gently. “Do you think it could be our time now?”
“Absolutely,” he said, kissing her gently. “We’ve had a pretty rough go of it.”
“Yes, we have,” she said, as she kissed him again. “Do you have to be anywhere?”
“No,” he said, “not right now. What time is it?”
Just then her phone rang. She quickly snagged her phone, took a look, and gasped.
He looked at the phone with her and said, “What am I looking at?”
She scrolled down to read a text.
I’m terrified to send this, but Bellamy said I had to.
It was a picture of a room with multiple paintings.
She zoomed in and looked closer. “Amazing.”
“I don’t get it,” Richard said, curious at her reaction.
“It’s Frankie’s work,” she said gently. At that, her heart warmed as she thought about him. “He used to paint very differently from this, and then he had a car accident and ended up with a brain injury, and he could never quite get it again. So he’s been very frustrated and angry.”
“What is this then?”
“He finally tried to do something different. He let his hand take care of his
