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“Why did you bring that along?” he asked as they drove toward the road.
“Because they’re part of the mystery.” Dan opened the folder and removed a photo. “Especially this one.” He lapsed into silence, studying it.
When nothing else was forthcoming, Gary chuckled. “Well? Are you going to let me in on it too?” He took a right onto the road.
“Not yet,” Dan murmured. “There’s something I need to check on first.”
Gary’s phone rang, and he peered at the screen. “It’s Lori Dettweiler. Put it on hands free, will you?” When Dan did as instructed, Gary spoke loudly. “Lori, what can we do for you? You’re on speaker.”
“I don’t know if this will help, but I’ve remembered something.” There was an edge to her voice, an undercurrent of what sounded like excitement.
“Tell us.”
“The thing is… I had a phone call from Cheryl, August twenty-eighth, which must have been right around the time she disappeared.”
“How can you remember the date so exactly?” Dan asked.
“Okay, this will sound weird, but… I’ve been on a real decluttering jag lately. So last night I was going through my books, trying to decide which ones to keep, like you do. I havewaytoo many books. Anyhow, I came across a children’s book I’d kept.The Borrowers. It’s by an English writer, Mary Norton. Anyway, she died August twenty-ninth, 1992, and that was the day after Cheryl called. It was only seeing the book again that made me connect the two events.”
“What did she say?” Gary’s skin prickled into goose bumps.
“I think it was something like… ‘I’ve found it. It’s been in plain sight all the time. I’m looking at it right now.’ Then the call ended. I tried to call her back, but there was no answer.”
“Do you have any idea what she was talking about?”
There was a pause. “Maybe? I wondered if she’d stumbled across something related to one of the stolen paintings.”
Gary and Dan glanced at each other. “What stolen paintings?” Gary was lost.
Lori gave a wry chuckle. “Are yousureyou’re from Boston? I thought everyone knew about it. That heist rocked the art world.”
“From the Museum of Fine Arts?” Dan looked as confused as Gary felt.
“No. Okay, I’m not being clear, am I? Cheryl and I both worked at the Athenaeum. Remember I told you that?”
“Yeah, I remember,” Gary assured her.
“All right, then. After that, but before I came to work for the Museum of Fine Arts, both Cheryl and I were art conservationists at the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum in Boston. I was there from 1991 to 1997. That wasafterthe event.”
Something stirred in the deep recesses of Gary’s memory.
“Like I said, I don’t know if that will help you. But you know, thinking about that phone call, it was strange, the way it ended so abruptly….”
Beside him, Dan grabbed his phone, his thumbs flying over the screen, his breathing erratic.
Gary was beyond curious.
“Thanks, Lori. I’ll make a note of it. One last thing. Can you remember approximately what time she called?”
“It was early evening, that’s all I can say. I’d finished work at five, and I was home when she called.”
“Thanks.” They said goodbye, and she disconnected. “Well, that confirms Reynolds’s story. He was out on his date with Sonia at that time.” He glanced at Dan’s phone. “What are you googling?”
“Let’s call it a hunch.” Then he froze. “Stop the car. We need to go back.” His voice rang out.
“What?” Ice crawled over Gary’s skin.
“You heard me. Turn this car around. We have to go back to the house.”
