Page 4 of Deadly Charade

He said nothing. She held his gaze, with her arms folded over her bloodstained T-shirt. Her long black hair spilled curls across her shoulders. The woman had a “don’t mess with me” attitude etched across her face, but something about her intrigued Bryce.

“The place has a million cameras, and my prints aren’t on the knife. How do I know that? Because I’m smart enough to not touch an obvious murder weapon.” She issued her defense as if he were the judge.

She never broke eye contact with him, her warm brown eyes challenging him.

He leaned back in his chair, the metal groaning. Bryce flipped through his hastily scribbled notes that he’d jotted down when ASAC Soto had rattled off information at a rapid-fire pace. Too bad the agency didn’t provide handwriting analysis classes to interpret his own early morning scrawl.

“Let me get this straight,” he said. “On your day off, you follow a hunch about a translation that no one deemed important enough to investigate and somehow manage to chase a possible Russian mobster down an alley. Then you’re caught kneeling over a dead body, with blood on your clothes. Am I leaving anything out?”

“That’s a pretty accurate assessment.” She blew out a breath. “I wasn’t expecting anything to go down. I just wanted to check out the security. For my troubles, the Russian guy hit me with the side of a painting frame.” She pointed to the bandaged spot on her forehead. “And threw a dagger at me. Then I ran him down until he hopped into a waiting car. And before you ask, no, I didn’t get the plate. It was covered up. Once I lost him, I went back and found the security guard. And the others found me. That’s about it.”

Could this be a connection to his case? Maybe, but he needed more information. His first impression of the calm, cool, collected rookie? She was beautiful and smart, yet took unnecessary risks. His mind screamed at him to keep his distance, but curiosity was getting the best of him.

He leaned forward and placed his hands on the table. “I’ll let the police know you’ll cooperate and give a full statement. Plus, you’ll need to sit with a sketch artist. You’re on administrative duty, not in the field until you’re medically cleared. What were you thinking?”

The metal chair scraped the floor when she shifted. “The same thing you’re thinking. Why else would the higher-ups send you to bail me out? We’ve never met, so I must be onto something. Possibly this situation intersects with one of your active cases?”

He tried not to smile at her spot-on intuition. He waved his hand. “Please, enlighten me. Why did I get out of bed at one thirty and drive two hours to bail a total stranger out of the Metro Police station?”

She leaned across the table and lowered her voice. “I translated a conversation from the dark web, and it led me to the gallery to do a little research and see if my theory panned out.”

“And what is your theory?”

She smiled. “That the Russians are a little too interested in Zaika.”

His adrenaline spiked at the mention of the rabbit statue. His team had suspected it originated from treasure looted in World War II and couldn’t help wondering if, since it was found in West Virginia, there would be more pieces going up for sale.

This had the smuggling ring’s fingerprints all over it. A priceless piece like that? They’d sell it, and a part of history would disappear forever.

Along with the auctioneer he’d been trying to stop. His team worked hard, but they’d never found the locations for the illegal auctions until after the smugglers skipped town with their cash from the sale of stolen art pieces.

Still, Agent Miller needed more solid evidence for him to be able to follow these new leads. “Zaika might be the pet name for a loved one. The man may have been talking about his wife.” He made a mental note to review the transcripts.

“You don’t believe me.” Agent Miller shook her head and sank back in her chair, arms folded again. “Just because I’m a new agent that’s been assigned to desk duty doesn’t mean I don’t have strong instincts.”

Bryce leaned forward, not taking his eyes off Kira. “I wouldn’t have driven two hours in the middle of the night if I didn’t intend to hear you out. I’m not questioning your instincts. I’m just trying to wrap my mind around your claims and see what I can do about them.”

She glanced up at the camera mounted in the corner of the room. “Is that recording?”

“No. I asked an officer to turn off the cameras so we could speak freely.”

She relaxed. “The security guard wasn’t dead when I found him. One of his last words to me was ‘Zaika.’”

Okay then. She was definitely onto something.

She stood, placing her hands on the table. “The dead security guard and the other man were speaking in the exhibit room directly across from the statue, Agent Lambert. I tried to get close enough to them to hear their conversation but only managed to pick up a few words. However, I could tell they were speaking fluent Russian. I heard the security guard saying ‘I don’t have it’ and ‘I need more time.’”

Interesting. If the Russians were after the rabbit statue, the piece had value—more than just a hefty asking price. “Let’s debrief first thing on Monday. I still don’t understand why you were there, and I’d like to hear more about your theories.”

And maybe score an opportunity to meet this interesting woman again.

Bryce shook his head to dislodge the unruly thought. He’d given up on relationships a long time ago. He knew better than to let those thoughts linger, not when he had a case to close.

She tapped the metal tabletop with her dark red fingernails. Interesting color choice for a Special Agent. It was bold, almost daring. He stared at her until she looked away first.

She ran her fingers through her curls. “I honestly just wanted to see the piece, find out what the fuss was about. Okay, and check the gallery security.”

Bryce studied the woman in front of him. “Regardless of what you translated or overheard at the gallery, we don’t have definitive proof that anyone is going to steal the statue.”