Dreams Claimed (Warfield's Landing, #1) (13 page)

“Good, good.” Daniel tried to figure out what to say next. “How’s your painting going?”

“I’ve had to put it on hold for a while, since I’m going to Warfield’s Landing a couple of days a week, but I’ve been taking lots of pictures. I’m doing some preliminary work on a new landscape series.”

“Glad to hear that.” He heard his voice — too hearty.

They smiled at each other. He was conscious of the artificiality, in such contrast to their time together before... he looked closely and could see the pain in her eyes.

“Good bye, Daniel.” Nic drifted away toward Thomas and Karyn.

He wished he could reach out and grab her. “Bye, Nic.”

He watched until the door closed behind her, then motioned for his server. “We’ve had a change in plans. I need to order To Go.”

As he waited for the order, he thought about how she looked. She’d lost weight and looked tired. Her face had been drawn and her smile never reached her eyes. Acutely aware that he was the cause of her pain, he resisted the urge to bang his head on the table... barely.

R
eady to work for the first time in forever, Nic was an early arrival at the Torpedo Factory that morning. Her meeting with Daniel at the Italian place had happened four days ago... and it had taken her this long to get over it.

She climbed the stairs to the third floor and walked around the blind corner to her studio. She was searching in her bag for her keys, so her gaze was averted. Keys in hand, she reached out to the doorknob and the door swung, creaking eerily.

Without considering that it might be dangerous, she pushed it open and stepped in. There was a buzz in her ears that grew to a loud roar.

She felt disconnected as she surveyed the scope of the damage. She was a messy artist, although she preferred the term creative, but even at her most productive, her studio was cleaner than this.

She slowly backed out the door and pulled it shut. She stepped around the corner and down the hall to the top of the main stairs. Karyn was on her way to Warfield’s Landing already, so Nic called Thomas.

As she sat on the steps waiting, Lynn came along.

“Honey! What’s wrong. You look terrible.”

“Someone vandalized my studio.”

“What?” Lynn sat down beside her. “Oh, honey. What’re you going to do?”

“I called my friend. Once he gets here... I guess we’ll call the cops.”

“Oh, Nic...” Lynn put an arm around Nic’s shoulders. “I was here to pick up some art supplies, but there’s no rush. Do you want me to sit here with you? I’ve got time.”

“Please.”

They were still on the top step when Thomas came bounding up the stairs half an hour later.

His first words were abrupt. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” She paused, reassessed, and said, “I think I’m in shock.”

Lynn spoke. “Now that your friend’s here, I’ll get going. Call me if there’s anything I can do to help.”

“Thanks, Lynn. I really appreciate you waiting with me.”

“Thanks.” Thomas spoke and Nic remembered her manners.

“Oh! Sorry. Lynn, this is Thomas. Thomas, this is Lynn, one of my drawing students.”

Lynn put up a hand in greeting. “Thomas... nice to meet you.” She turned to Nic. “I’ll leave, then. Call me, if I can help.” With that, she headed down the stairs.

Thomas squatted on the steps in front of Nic. “I need to go look at the damage. Do you want to stay here or come with me?”

“I’ll go with you.”

He helped her stand and wrapped an arm around her. Together, they walked back to her studio. Swinging the door open, he looked in without entering, then called his neighbor, the FBI Agent. Following that was a phone call to the Alexandria PD.

While they waited for Detective Hayward to arrive, Thomas disappeared briefly and returned with a chair from one of the classrooms. Nic was grateful to sit.

“We need to leave things alone until the detective gets here. Did you touch anything?”

Nic started to shake her head. “No... Oh, wait... Yes. I think I might’ve touched a couple of paintings.”

“All right. We need to be sure to tell them. Did you move anything?”

“No, I know I didn’t move stuff.”

“You didn’t move anything? Did you touch anything?” Detective Hayward had arrived. A sturdy black man, not quite six feet tall, his suit strained across his chest. He was not happy, his dark face creased in a scowl. He had a tall willowy woman with him. Her medium brown hair was cut short, and she was dressed in slacks and a blazer. He introduced her as Detective Griffith.

Nic found herself nodding blankly. Thomas opened the studio door for the detectives, then came back and leaned against the wall next to Nic.

The low murmur of voices washed over her, weaving in and out of the ever present roar. She pushed with her legs, taking the chair against the wall and let her head rest back, chin raised. Somehow, this seemed better than dropping her head between her knees. Thomas provided a solid comforting presence beside her, as always. He and Karyn had been there for her since the day they met.

“Miss Bannerman.” Detective Hayward’s scratchy voice pulled her out of her reverie.

Nic opened her eyes. “Yes, Detective?”

“We need you to come through the studio with us. Are you up to it?”

“Of course. I can do anything you need me to do.”

With Thomas close behind her, Nic followed the bulky detective into what had been her artistic sanctum. Looking around, Nic wondered if she’d ever feel creative or safe here again.

She caught Thomas watching her. She straightened her spine and flashed him a smile. She was a fighter, dammit.

“We need you to talk us through the damage,” the detective explained. “This is obviously personal. For now, we’re going on the assumption that it is the same person who’s been calling you and who vandalized your friend’s Jag.”

“He’s still calling me, but he doesn’t say anything. Only that one time.”

Thomas spoke. “She hasn’t seen Daniel Sterling the Jag owner recently, but she did run into him last night by accident.” The detective raised an eyebrow and Thomas explained. “Karyn, my wife, and I went out to dinner with Nic. Daniel happened to be dining at the same restaurant.”

“Miss Bannerman, why don’t you and I do the studio walk-though while Detective Hayward talks with your fiend.” This was the female detective.

“All right.” Nic followed the other woman farther into the studio. For the first time, she was calm enough to take in the damage.

Her art supplies were scattered all over the floor. She and Detective Griffith had to walk carefully to avoid stepping on tubes of paint.

The flat file drawers where she kept her paper works — finished drawings, as well as working sketches—had been pulled out of the cabinets and upended. Nic couldn’t tell how much damage had been done to the fragile drawings.

She and the woman detective skirted the big work table in the center of the room. Her painting space on the other side of studio was an even bigger mess, and that art work had clearly been targeted.

A new painting in her ballet series was leaning against the wall, slashed with a big X. The four triangular scraps sagged on the stretcher bars. Nic stared blankly.

Detective Griffith stood beside her. In their silence, Nic could hear the rise and fall of Hayward’s and Thomas’s voices.

“I’m a fan.”

The abrupt statement startled Nic. She turned to the detective, not sure what the woman was saying.

“I was a dancer. Until I got too tall.” Griffith smiled. “A friend took me to your show at Gallery 22. You really know dancers... beyond the pretty pictures. You danced.” It was a statement.

“I was a dance studio rug rat. My mom and aunt ran a school and I was there all the time...”

“And you still dance,” the cop noted shrewdly.

Nic nodded. “So do you.” Griffith nodded. Together, they turned back to the slashed painting.

“What will you do with it? Can it be saved?”

“I finished it a week or so ago, so the paint was pretty dry. I could send it off to be restored.” Nic tilted her head. “I’m not sure how I feel about it, though.”

“You’re feeling violated.”

“Ya think?” Nic turned to Griffith and they laughed together, in a flash of black humor.

“Do you want some advice?” Without waiting for an answer, she continued. “I’d go ahead and get it repaired, then re-evaluate. If it holds too many bad memories, sell it. I’ve seen the price of your paintings. You can afford it. And... it’s a beautiful painting. I, for one, would hate to see it thrown away.”

“I think that’s good advice, Nic.” Thomas and Hayward had joined them in the studio.

Thomas slung an arm across Nic’s shoulders and pulled her into to a hug. “You’re coming home with me. Karyn called and she’ll head back as soon as she can.”

Nic nodded...

She was heartsick. Who hated her this much?

“S
top right there!”

Nic froze, her hand on the doorknob. Slowly she turned.

“Give me your car keys.” Fingers waggled at her, the hand palm up, the voice imperious... maybe a bit impatient. “We’re going to load your plants in your car, last thing...”

With a scowl, Nic pulled her keychain out of the bag, clumsily unhooked the car keys and fob from the rest of them and dropped them in the waiting hand.

“Attila. Attila the Hun,” Nic hissed the name spitefully.

The beautiful blonde attached to the hand laughed musically and made a shooing motion with her hands. She was one of the Mallory and Turner project managers. She and Nic were actually good friends, but today, Sylvia was at the end of a challenging two day job — to get Nic moved out of her apartment ASAP. She had a crew of three M and T interns and they were in the final stages of the move.

“Go on down to the Torpedo Factory. Rory has a few questions.” Sylvia barked orders at her like she was a lollygagging intern.

Nic raised one lip in a sneer, for effect, and Sylvia laughed again, as she pushed Nic out the door.

Rory was another M and T project manager. He and four interns were packing up her studio. Neither Sylvia nor Rory wanted Nic around while they worked.

In fact, Rory had even said, “Nicki...” He drawled it out for effect. “You are one of my favorite people, but you’re getting in my way. Go happen someplace else.”

Two days ago Nic and the female detective had been in her trashed studio, while Thomas talked with Detective Barrett. She had no idea what had been said, but when Thomas decided he needed to take care of someone he loved, he moved fast. After six years of marriage, Karyn was used to it.

When Nic had objected to Thomas’ plan, Karyn had said, “My advice, Nic... just stand back and watch. Let the crews take care of everything.”

“But, I don’t...”

Nic was ruthlessly interrupted.

“Look at it this way... it’s a perfect lemonade scenario. If you’re living in Warfield’s Landing full time, you can be there to keep an eye on the renovations AND get work done. Your drawing class is almost over. Let someone else teach the last session or two. They have a list of folks who would love to sublet your studio space.” At moments like this, Nic always found herself thinking that Karyn and Thomas were well matched. Steamroller, meet freight train.

Karyn made her final point. “You were planning on moving to Warfield’s Landing anyway, you’re just doing it sooner.”

So, now, having been chased out of her almost empty apartment, Nic was dodging the tourists moseying along on King Street. She was on her way from her apartment to the Torpedo Factory.

As she walked, Nic slowly admitted to herself that she would never again feel safe and happy in her studio. The vandalism had changed everything for her.

Still... picking up and moving to Warfield’s Landing in a mere 48 hours would never have occurred to her. She wouldn’t even have believed it was possible.

Sylvia had been so relentlessly efficient, it was possible that the apartment would be totally empty by the time Nic reached the waterfront. Sylvia had come through like the expert project manager she was.

Thomas and Karyn had insisted that Nic stay with them after the studio incident. Thomas had finished with Detective Barrett, locked the studio door, and taken Nic back to her apartment where he insisted that she pack enough clothes for a week.

While she packed, he’d called Karyn who was on site in Warfield’s Landing. Then, he’d called their office.

Taking Nic back to the office, Sylvia and Rory were already organizing what was needed to pack Nic and move her—lock, stock, apartment, and studio. Sylvia had been kind enough to pull Nic aside and talk with her about their plans.

The two of them had gotten close over the couple of years that Sylvia had worked at M and T. Sylvia had steered Nic into the breakroom and firmly shut the door.

Over a bag of microwave popcorn, Sylvia had explained things. “I know that you’re in shock over your studio, and having us paw through all of your belongings seems like a further violation, but believe me... it’s better this way. You’ll be able to work, oversee the Warfield’s Landing projects, and get away from this wingnut.”

Sylvia leaned forward, “I’ll take photos and organize your new apartment as closely as possible to the old one, and...” she wagged her eyebrows, “I’ll even do your laundry.”

Joining the fun, Nic acted surprised. “You’d do my laundry?” She put her hands under her chin and fluttered her eyelashes.

Sylvia laughed and leaned back. “Nah! You’re on your own. I WILL make sure that your dirty clothes make the move to Maryland, though.”

Nic scowled and pouted. “Gimme the popcorn!”

*****

N
ic opened open the door of the Torpedo Factory. She waved and nodded, but kept moving. Word about the studio vandalism had spread over the last couple of days. She’d accepted condolences and fielded questions, but she was hoping that the interest was finally dying down.

She opted for the back stairs. As she came around the corner, she could hear voices from her studio. As she entered the studio, Rory looked up. “Are you back again?” He scowled for effect then relaxed, winked, and beckoned her over.