“Solitude.”
“I read somewhere that Prescott thought it portrayed loneliness.”
“I don’t agree at all. The woman has the horse. That’s a joy.” She shrugged. “But what do I know?”
“If the barn is any indication, it seems you know a lot about art.”
“Thanks.” She pivoted to study him. His hair, the same color as hers, was cut short on the sides and longer on the top. He wore a dark brown summer hoodie with a yellow t-shirt beneath it.
“I’m Juliet Sullivan, by the way.” She was usually more shy with people she didn’t know, but being here as an artist gave her confidence.
“I’m Ryder Pace.”
“Ryder. Nice name.”
“Hmm. I’ll let you get back to it, Juliet Sullivan. Nice meeting you.”
“You, too, Ryder Pace.”
After he left, Juliet felt a fission of fear. Oh dear, could that man be the culprit who was after the collective? She got up immediately and walked out to the reception area.
“Hey Patrice. Do know anything about that man in there?”
“Ryder Pace? He comes here a lot.”
Thank God.
“You don’t recognize the name, do you?”
“No, I don’t. Is he someone famous?”
“Infamous, I’d say.People Magazinecalled hima playboy billionaire. Pretty popular with the ladies.”
“I’m afraid I don’t follow pop culture.”
She went back in and resumed painting. Soon, she was immersed in her craft. An hour later, she packed up her things, took hold of her roller and left the gallery.
“Thanks for letting me do this.”
“We encourage budding artists to come and paint the ones that have artist approval.”
“I know. That’s what makes this place special. I’ll see you again.” Briefly, she wondered if she’d ever see Ryder Pace again. Probably not. Which was okay, even if she did think he was pretty damn gorgeous.
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Chapter 6
Heath waited with the others in the staff common room. A few days had passed with no new information on the medallion guy or the investigation at all. He could tell his colleagues were on edge: Finn was pacing, Oliver stared off into space, Daisy leafed through a journal but she kept scanning everyone. Juliet was on her phone and tapping her fingernails on the table and Scarlet sat very still frowning down at her fingers. They needed an update.
Jeff Marshall walked in with Agent Rayburn and Agent Jack Stanton. Marshall said, “Hello, everybody. You remember Agents Rayburn and Stanton.”
They greeted the three of them and Oliver asked if they wanted coffee. The Agents refused.
Marshall said, “I’ll get mine. I’ve been here enough to know the lay of the land.” He poured a cupful and sat down next to the guards. “I realize you’re anxious for an update. But we don’t have a complete picture yet.”
“Tell us what you do have,” Heath said. “We’ve been waiting to find out anything.”
Rayburn began. “Lewellen Brock, the man with the medallion, was from a small Midwestern town. We don’t know why he moved here, but our people are interviewing residents out there now to see what information they can get on him. I’ll warn you, though, so far, he seems to have been a loner.”
