Exposed to Passion (Five Senses series Book 3) Page 25
“Do you have any idea who did this?”
Candace opened the file in front of her and consulted the paper on top. “We’ve tracked it back to an IP address in Granite Pointe. We’ve subpoenaed the Internet provider for records, but that will most likely take another twenty-four hours. Once we have it, we’ll be able to make an arrest. We uncovered the IP address and found evidence linking it to two other recent scams similar in nature. This gives us greater leverage when requesting a warrant.”
Hollister nodded at Townsend, who flipped an Excel spreadsheet around and pushed it toward Rikki. Hollister said, “In each instance, funds were diverted from a non-profit, or registered charity, into a private account. We’ve also requested a warrant to obtain information from the bank in question. Again, it’s a waiting game.”
Silas pulled it toward him to study. He snorted and tapped the sheet with his crooked index finger. “This person stole from a PTA and a church? What kind of evil does this take?”
“It does take some brass balls. And maybe a touch of stupidity.” Townsend finally spoke up. He was incredibly soft-spoken. Rikki leaned forward and angled her head to catch his words. “It’s dumb. He or she is leaving a trail that is easily followed. Up until this point, the other businesses weren’t aware of the hacking. It’s been going on for a few weeks. The perp has been siphoning off small, barely noticeable amounts. Might have gotten away with it for years. But when he hacked the Sims site and posted the pictures, he drew attention to himself, or herself, in a big way.”
Candace added, “The code used to prevent your techs from disabling the Sims webpage was surprisingly sophisticated and quite unique. Once we flagged it, we found the other instances. When we catch this person, they’ll be going away for a while.”
Baron Hollister closed the folder in front of him and rapped his knuckles on it. “We will catch whoever did this. Rest assured, they will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law when we do.”
The knowledge that she wouldn’t have to look at the smutty pictures in front of all these people and her grandfather, and that the person responsible would be found, reduced her lingering anxiety to dull numbness. Candace shifted into technical speak, which Rikki had a hard time following. And she considered herself literate at this stuff.
Jesus Christ, she was outta gas. Completely done-in.
Lost and disheartened, she stole a weary glance at her grandfather. He met her eyes with confidence and reassurance gleaming in his. He reached under the table and patted her cold hands, the gesture touching her heart in a way he hadn’t since…well, since forever. Warm affection for the man who’d ruled her upbringing and professional career with an iron fist fizzed to the surface, momentarily clearing the fog that had settled over her when the discussion shifted to operations at the foundation.
After another hour of questioning, Hollister dismissed Silas and Rikki. Her brain hurt. Passing her car keys to Silas, she begged him to drive them back to Granite Pointe. With a compassionate grin, he took the keys and put an arm around her when they walked through the parking garage to her SUV. The gesture startled but comforted her. The gentle kiss her normally cold, tight-assed grandfather planted on her cheek while he helped her into the car shocked her to the core.
Once they got on the road, Rikki leaned her head back and closed her eyes, giving in to weariness. Before she knew it, they’d arrived in her driveway.
Silas waited until Rikki unfastened her seat belt and opened the door. “Rikki, I will borrow your car, if this is okay. I have an errand to run.”
“Oh. Will you be coming back here this evening?”
“No, I think not, if you don’t mind me keeping the car. You have Athelstan’s vehicle if you need to go anywhere. I wish to meet with an old friend for drinks and dinner. I will be at the museum tomorrow to help you finish the set-up. What time does the party start?”
She nodded. “At four. I’ll be there by ten tomorrow morning when the doors open. I’ll see you then.”
“Rikki.” Silas placed a hand on her arm, halting her when she would have exited the car. “I was wrong, the way I treated you when you were younger. I didn’t listen to you when I should. My pride got in the way. For this, I am sorry. This situation, you are handling this like a vinnare, a true champion. Much better than I would. I don’t tell you often enough how proud I am of you. I…I love you, granddaughter.”
Tears stung the back of her eyes. She couldn’t remember the last time her grandfather had expressed his love. She leaned across the car and wrapped her arms awkwardly around him. “I love you too, Silas…Grandfather.”
“Humph.” He patted her shoulders stiffly, as if he’d had enough touchy-feely emotion for one day, then pushed her away. “Get some rest, Marguerite. You are looking peaked. You must look your best tomorrow. This is important, no?”
“It is important, Grandfather.”
She got out of the car and stood in the drive while Silas drove away, the car finally fading from view when he turned the corner. Trudging up the stairs, she let herself into the silent house, walked past the kitchen and into her bedroom. After kicking off her shoes, she fell to the bed and allowed exhaustion to claim her.
Chapter 28
Gallery openings always made her nervous. It was natural to experience butterflies throughout the day when preparing the final aspects of a show. Natural and welcome, usually.
But she’d never had a case of nerves quite like this. What should have been pleasant, anticipatory flutters of delight had the wingspan of a vulture, beating hard against her diaphragm. Dizziness had hit several times since she’d crawled out of bed at four AM and stumbled to the kitchen for a drink of water. Gunnar’s quiet breathing in the spare bedroom indicated that he’d decided not to disturb her when he came home from wherever he’d been.
When she’d crawled back between the cold sheets, tears had leaked from the corners of her eyes when she’d recalled the warmth of her bed when Sam had shared it with her.
Her lie and his words had damned the relationship.
Calming herself by regulating her breathing, the way she might on a long-distance run, drowsiness overcame her. Mercifully, she fell back to sleep, although it hadn’t been restful. If anything, by the time Gunnar pounded on her door to wake her, she was more wrung out than she had been fourteen hours ago when she’d fallen into bed.
Now, while Gunnar helped Silas drag several large frames through the front door of the museum, Rikki had to work hard to develop any enthusiasm or interest in what they were doing.
“Athelstan, I’d like this last one in a special spot, if you please. A spot of honor.”
Silas glanced around a room filled with his historic and ground-breaking photos. Landscapes that had graced the covers of Life, National Geographic and Time magazines back in the day hung alongside the still-life compositions he’d taken to photographing later in life, when he no longer had the stamina to walk into the jungle or desert.
He pointed to his original shot of Sims Spit, positioned prominently in the middle of the exhibit. “There, I think. We’ll put it on an easel next to that one.”
A mischievous smile lurked on Gunnar’s lips as he skirted around the caterers laying out the hors d’oeuvres for the reception. He pulled a brass three-legged stand from a closet, walked to Grandfather’s picture, and set it up. Silas pulled the plain brown paper off the frame and hugged it to his chest as he joined Gunnar by the easel. The two of them conducted a whispered conversation, glancing at Rikki.
They were up to something. Rikki roused herself enough to scoot closer to where they stood like a couple of thieves planning a bank heist.
She stopped when Gunnar held up a hand and commanded, “No. Wait there. You won’t be able to really appreciate this if you’re too close.”
He shooed her away, then shifted until his broad back hid Silas and the easel from her view. Craning her neck, she tried to catch a glimpse, but Gunnar edged to the right, blocking her attempt. It was unlike
her brother to be this secretive, so the surprise they’d planned must be a good one. She leaned against the counter and tapped her toe, deciding she could wait them out.
By the time they’d separated and turned her direction, huge, infectious grins lit both their faces, distracting her from the framed art they’d tried so hard to hide. Bemused by their complicity, she turned toward the mystery photo.
A picture of a dark, stormy horizon stood on the easel. Waning sunlight bounced off golden rushes and one bright reflective white hole pierced the steel gray clouds. The same dramatic spot that had pulled her toward infinity when she’d snapped the picture. The image was nearly a mirror of the one her grandfather had taken all those years ago.
“Where did you find that?” she whispered.
Silas beamed proudly at her when she shot a glance at him. “This is the special photo I spoke about yesterday morning. Your intern, Katie, opened, accidentally, a wrong file on your computer and found it. She showed this to me when we spoke of light and shadow here the other day. Stunning, isn’t it? So stark, so simple, so…magnificent.”
Rikki pressed her fingers against her lips and approached the easel. Her gaze moved between the side-by-side pictures, evaluating and cataloging the differences. There were more reeds bending in the wind in her shot, and the clouds reflecting off the water were more colorful, deep blue and pearly pink. The stand of trees beyond the Spit was taller. But the framing and composition remained true between both shots. Rikki’s won as most dramatic. Silas’s was calmer, less angry.
“Oh, Silas. I can’t believe you did this. I’m so…” She trailed off, at a loss for words as tears slipped down her cheeks.
Silas gathered her in his arms and held her. This was possibly the closest she’d been to her curmudgeonly grandfather.
Once he released her and took a position at her side, Gunnar came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her neck, pulling her against his chest. “I’m proud of you, Rik-a-rak. You showed the old dog up.”
Silas harrumphed and Gunnar laughed. Rikki joined in with a watery chuckle. The symbolism of the united front the trio of them presented wasn’t lost on her. These men stood by her side and had her back. These were the people she could count on…always.
Grief, hot and inconsolable, gushed through her heart, leaving despair and ashes in its path. She’d thought she’d found those qualities in Sam.
How could she hate Sam but still be in love with him?
She shoved the unwelcome emotion down. One man’s angry words wouldn’t destroy this moment. She’d let her feelings for him die a cold death and face her future without his love and support. It was the way it had to be.
“Come on, you cry baby,” Gunnar chided her. “Your guests will be here soon. Let’s hang the rest of these and get a glass of wine to celebrate.”
“Yes, I agree with Athelstan.” Silas said, then burst out laughing. “There must be something in the air here in Granite Pointe. I don’t believe I’ve ever said that before.”
* * * *
Rikki’s cheeks ached almost as much as her feet and back. She’d smiled her way through the evening, but the only time it was genuine was when Sarah Willis had walked through the museum doors with Katie Germaine’s parents.
Katie had shown up before the first guests, looking smart and sophisticated in a pretty party dress. She tottered on her wedged heels, but she managed. Following Rikki’s instructions, she’d circulated through the gathered crowds, passing out foundation literature and carrying trays of canapés. She’d taken her duties as assistant hostess quite seriously, even when Gunnar had tried to distract her and make her laugh.
By six-thirty, Rikki dismissed the girl from her obligations and watched her trot over to where her new-found friends clustered in front of the student photo exhibit. Rikki had been right; Katie’s pictures had drawn the most attention of that part of the exhibit. The ice encasing her heart started to defrost as the teen’s parents and friends hugged and congratulated her.
She’d just accepted a glass of white wine from the bartender when the next batch of people surged through the door.
Crap on a cracker. Jack Kerrigan stopped inside the door and turned to say something to the impish-looking woman at his side. Dark curly hair, a fast smile, and deep dimples marked her as another Kerrigan. This must be Pippa. Jem and a tall man sporting a ponytail joined them, the man taking all of their coats and laying them across the coat check table. His stance reminded Rikki of a solider at ease, and his green eyes were startling, even from ten feet away.
Tension clamped around the base of her skull as she searched behind him, sure that Sam was with the foursome. He hadn’t come. She was pissed as hell at him and still ached for a glimpse. She shook her head, disgust and anxiousness zipping through her chest.
“Rikki!” Jem raised her hand in greeting and moved forward. “Hello. What a lovely exhibit.”
Remembering her manners, Rikki extended her hand and smiled the same polite smile she’d pasted on her lips all evening long. “Thank you for coming. I wasn’t sure you would.”
Jack brushed aside her hand and pulled her into a surprisingly comfortable embrace. “We wouldn’t have missed it, Rikki. This is my sister, Pippa, and her husband, Clay.”
Pippa’s smile lit her face with a warm glow. “We’ve heard so much about you and the exhibit, we had to come. It was great of you to include some of Sa—uh, the high school students in the display. I’m eager to see their work.”
Rikki noticed Pippa’s abrupt shift when she’d almost mentioned Sam. Dammit, she was over him. But she’d glanced repeatedly at the door, waiting for him to arrive. He should. The pictures his students had contributed to the show were phenomenal. Her gaze was drawn to the front door when it opened again, admitting one more person who wasn’t Sam.
Disappointment must have shown in her face, because Pippa laid a hand on Rikki’s arm, drawing her attention back. “Sam won’t be coming tonight.” She lowered her voice and leaned forward, a chagrinned look on her face. “He messed up, and he knows it. He wants to apologize, but didn’t feel he should steal your thunder tonight. Plus, your brother warned him to stay away from you. Sam isn’t afraid of many men, but I think the bruise on his cheek is very persuasive.”
“Gunnar punched Sam?” When the hell had that happened? Fury with her brother was quickly replaced with anger at Sam for not standing up to Gunnar. Wimp! Guilt over her thoughts engulfed her.
Clay grinned, transforming his stoic expression to satanic beauty. “Yesterday. And man, I wish I could have seen it. Jack stopped your brother from hitting Sam a second time, but I’d have stopped Jack if I’d been there.”
Pippa pinched Clay’s forearm hard enough to turn her knuckles white and pink stained her cheeks. “We, I mean all the Kerrigans, have heard what an idiot Sam has been about the whole Marguerite thing. He’s in trouble with every last one of us, even my children, Mason and Mia.”
This woman could only be in her thirties, so her kids couldn’t be very old. “Your children know he told me I was nothing but a pair of—” Rikki broke off, embarrassed, and gestured along the front of her body. She gulped a bit of the wine from her glass, the taste bitter on her tongue.
“Oh, no.” Pippa shook her head violently. “They only know Uncle Sam said something very mean to a very nice lady. Mia won’t even look at him.”
“Serves him right,” Jack said. “I was tempted to let Gunnar pound Sam into the ground after Sam admitted what he said.”
This family bewildered her. They circled the wagons around each other when the going got tough. She’d seen it that night at Red’s. But they were just as likely to point out when one of them had done something stupid. And clearly they thought Sam had pulled a boner for the ages. “Well, thank you, I think.”
Jem shot a pleading look at her. “I hope you can find it inside you to forgive him. He was shocked and hurt. What he said was so out of character for him. And what you did for him was so amazing.”
And there it was. Of course they’d all know about the humiliating pictures of the two of them together. Rikki fought a losing battle with the embarrassed flush rising over her neck and face. Thrusting her chin in the air, she refused to give in to the urge to sink through the floor. “He was innocent of the charges against him. I had a way to clear his name. It was nothing.”
“Bullshit!” Clay growled. Rikki jumped at the vehemence in his tone. “What you did took courage and grace. You’re a bigger person than most could ever hope to be. And Sam’s an asshat.”
Pippa glared at Clay, who just crossed his arms over his large chest and shot her a What? I’m only saying what we all think kind of look. “Language, please,” she chided.
“Is the FBI any closer to discovering who’s responsible for hacking your website?” Clay asked. “I have some connections there, if they aren’t moving fast enough.”
A full-on happy grin surfaced for the first time since the reception began. “I heard from Agent Hollister this afternoon. They obtained the warrants they needed and traced the hacking back to Brett Erskine, one of Sam’s students in the photography club.” She raised her glass, a silent toast to Agent Hollister for his quick work, and took a deep sip. Wrinkling her nose, she lowered it again, toying with rim of the etched crystal.
“But he’s only a teenager. How in the hell could he manage to take control of your website?” Jack asked.
Clay snorted. “Teens these days are smarter than shit. Damn, some of the most notorious hackers have been in their teens.”
“Like the kid who hacked that big box store around the holidays. He’s supposedly only seventeen,” Jem said.
“Regardless, the little piss-ant is smart enough to break our password and post the pictures. Fortunately, he wasn’t able to get past our bank’s firewall, so the code he placed on our secured donation page never worked. He admitted doing everything—taking the pictures, photoshopping the image of Sam and me to make it look like students were present, and posting them on the Sims webpage. And in his next breath, he said it was all Sherry Hillman’s idea.”