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His words hung in the air, beating like wings over Gideon’s head. “Why would Karmen give it to me?” he said aloud, more to himself than to Rosie or Evan.
Karmen had carried the painting to the Middle East in her duffel, for God’s sake. And he’d been hauling it all over the country in his pack, appreciating that it was a beautiful painting from a close friend. Not a priceless work of art.
And though he knew how much good he could do with the proceeds from an auction, he suddenly wasn’t sure he could part with everything the painting symbolized. His life prior to that awful day when so many of his friends had died. The man he’d been but wasn’t anymore. And his feelings for Karmen, unexpressed and intangible.
“There are so many possible reasons for giving it to you,” Rosie said softly. They’d discussed that Karmen might not have known the worth of the painting—or if she did, that she’d wanted him to sell it and do good with the money. “But all I can think is that most of all, Karmen wanted you to have it because it was special to her. And so were you.”
* * *
Until now, Rosie hadn’t really thought beyond the worth of the painting—and all that the sale of it could do for people in need. Last night the thought of fifty million dollars had seemed so exciting, so amazing, so unbelievable.
But from the look on Gideon’s face, it was blindingly obvious that the painting wasn’t just an artifact to him. It wasn’t just a nearly priceless wonder of the art world. It didn’t just carry with it all his pain, all his turmoil, all his heartache. And it wasn’t simply Karmen’s final gift to him either.
The painting was Karmen.
And no matter how much money it was worth, or what he could do with that money, or how many people it could help, for Gideon, selling it would still feel like letting Karmen go.
Rosie wanted so badly to wrap her arms around him and tell him everything would be okay. It was an instinct she had to give in to, and she was reaching for him when her phone rang. She’d been so intent on Gideon and the painting that the sound jarred her so badly, she almost jumped right off the couch.
Not wanting to disturb Gideon’s train of thought in such an intense moment, she pulled her phone out of her purse and walked across the room to answer it. She didn’t recognize the number, but sometimes her boss asked potential new accounting clients to contact her directly so they could discuss her methodology. “Hello?”
“Hello, Rosie. It’s been a long time. Have you missed me?”
Her stomach froze. Her teeth chattered. She w
as suddenly so cold, her hair might break off in icicles.
“I’m in town and I thought we could get together for a nice cha—”
She stabbed End before he could finish.
Archie had found her.
* * *
Something was wrong. Dead wrong.
Rosie stared at her phone as though she were in a horror movie where she was the only one who could see the spiders crawling out of it.
“Excuse me a minute.”
Gideon didn’t hear Evan’s reply. He was only vaguely aware of the boys running into the living room. When they would have raced to Gideon, Evan called them over, saying something Gideon couldn’t hear, something that was enough to have them flopping down on the sofa.
Then Gideon was by Rosie’s side at the far edge of the room. “What’s wrong?” he asked softly, wanting to gather her up in his arms and make it all better.
“He’s in town,” she whispered as the phone fell to the rug from nerveless fingers. “He wants to get together to talk.”
Gideon picked up her phone and shoved it in his back pocket. “We need to call the cops.”
“And tell them what? That my ex wants to talk to me?”
“He’s been threatening you.”
“Only he hasn’t—not directly, anyway. I don’t even know if those calls were from him. This was a different number. And those calls were on the landline at the house, not my cell phone.”
The phone call was like a one-two punch. First the painting and now this. She was in shock. Maybe they both were. But though Gideon knew Rosie was right about the cops not being able to do anything with the information they had, he still needed to make sure neither of them were hiding from the truth. Especially one that put either Jorge or Rosie at risk.
“One thing we know for sure. He’s tracking you. Just like you figured, you can’t assume he’s going to leave you or Jorge alone the way he has for the past seven years. And even if his name isn’t on the birth certificate, which I’m assuming it isn’t—” She nodded. “—it’s still all too easy for him to get a DNA test. Which means we’ve got to fight him head on to make sure he doesn’t dare try to claim his parental rights.”
