At the back of the basement, Charley spotted two sleek black doors. The first was just a utility room, but the other looked promising.
A safe room?
No, not a room. An elevator.
She drew a quick mental map, orienting herself with the level above. She hadn’t seen any elevator doors up there. Maybe this one only went down.
A sub-basement?
Charley looked for the button to call it up, but found only a keypad and some kind of fancy fingerprint scanner with a digital screen below it, blinking back at her now.
alarmed…alarmed…alarmed…
Excitement flooded her chest, the rush so familiar it was hard not to bask in the momentary high. Whatever the Redthornes had stashed down below, it had to be more valuable than the millions of dollars in artwork displayed upstairs under significantly less security.
More valuable—or more secret.
Charley’s skin tingled. She knelt down on the floor and peered underneath the gap, confirming her suspicions; in addition to the keypad and scanner, the elevator was alarmed with a laser security system.
There was no way she could crack it—not without more time.
For now, the chamber below would remain a secret.
Unless I can convince him to give me a tour…
No. It was bad enough she was facilitating the robbery of Dorian’s art estate. Whatever lay hidden below couldstayhidden. She’d just have to tell Rudy the basement was a bust. Hopefully, he’d buy it; time was of the essence during a heist, and they’d have their hands full on the main floors, especially if Travis wanted the cars…
Charley’s insides burned.
It’s not going to happen. I’ll figure something out before it gets that far. I won’t let Dorian suffer.
Rising from the floor, she smoothed out her dress and took a deep breath, eager to move on. But when she returned to the staircase that led out of the basement, her eyes landed on a narrow library table with a protective glass top. The table itself was unimpressive, but the marble statue under the glass was anything but.
Charley gasped.
It can’t be…
But it most definitely was. The missing dick was a dead giveaway.
Heart in her throat, Charley approached the table for a closer look at the sculpture—a first-century Roman statue of Hermes, carved in marble after a style favored in Greece hundreds of years prior.
The dick was filed away in antiquity, a mystery the art world had never solved. The statue was absolutely authentic—the mismatched wings on the sandals, the ornately carved hair and musculature, the missing member. It was exactly as Charley remembered from her art books.
It was the real deal.
It was priceless.
And—mindfuck of all mindfucks—it was another piece from her father’s missing cache.
Charley’s heart hammered, her palms sweating inside the satin gloves. Why did Dorian Redthorne—herDorian Redthorne—have two pieces of art from the heist that had basically killed her dad?
Had Rudy known about these pieces?
Was he home sipping his martini, laughing his ass off as he sent her out to chase after her father’s ghost?
Was this all a fucking game to him?
Questions rushed at her from the deepest, most fearful parts of her heart. Charley was so lost in thought and worry, she didn’t even hear the man behind her until it was too late.
