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.“I don’t think we have to go anywhere near Buffalo.”“Say again?”“I think the theft was pulled off right here in the city.”Smith unwrapped the silverware from the napkin and jabbed the butter knife in her direction.“Is this like when you had the feeling you’d been right near the painting back in Chicago?”“Gimme a break, will ya? This is the first time I’ve done this sort of thing.”“What, used your brain?”Which made them both laugh so hard that surrounding patrons laughed too.If they only knew the laughter was a release from being almost taken down by rifle blast.Smith opened the atlas of maps to the New Hampshire page and ran her index finger down till she got to Concord.“Something else I figured out,” Westen said.“I don’t think we need the map.”“We spent thirty-five bucks for this and now you say we don’t need it?”“KJ spent the money.”“Which makes me wonder why she hasn’t called to badger us lately.”“I have the feeling she’s busy with something else,” Westen said.“In Philly?”“Maybe the painting was found…” Westen’s own comment brought cold chills to her body.“And hasn’t bothered to tell us.That’d be just like her.”“Maybe one of us should give her a call.”“One of us meaning you,” Smith said.“I called last time.”She had a point.Westen took out the cell phone and punched the number one—preprogrammed by KJ herself—on speed dial.There was no answer.Where on earth was she? Should she try someone else? KJ’s fiancé would know, but Westen didn’t remember his full name to get the number from information.Maybe he would answer KJ’s home phone again.Westen tried there.No answer.She put the cell away.“I guess she’ll be in touch when she needs something.”“You can bet on that.So, tell me why we don’t need the map,” Smith said.“I’d bet money the painting was taken no more than three or four—six blocks at the most—from the museum.”“How do you figure that?”“Well, any closer and the thief might not have time to get out of the trailer.Further and they’re probably still on the highway, or at least in a spot where the truck is going too fast.I think all we have to do is trace the route they took from the highway, probably no more than two miles.”“Good thing we packed overnight bags.”Westen took out the phone.“Who are you calling?”“Since KJ’s incommunicado, I thought I’d try one of the drivers.” She dialed Brad Kerrington.When he answered, she asked what route they’d taken into Concord.He didn’t have to think it over.“We took exit 14 off Route 93.”“Okay, good.Left off the exit, right?”“Right.Yes.Then a right toward the State House and it’s a straight shot to the museum.”“What time did you get here?”“A little after seven p.m.”“Gotcha.Thanks.”“Wait.What’ve you got? Did you find the painting?”“We think the painting might’ve been taken right near the museum.” She explained their idea.“If not here, then back in Buffalo before you got on the highway.”“You really think somebody could’ve got on the trailer without us seeing?” His voice sounded a bit accusatory, but more distressed because if this scenario played out, it meant he could’ve prevented the painting from going missing.“It’s one the only ideas that makes sense.”“Which means you have other ideas?”“Just one.Thanks for the info.I’ll be in touch.” After Westen hung up, she told Smith, “He sounded anxious.”“Yeah, well, I’m sure there’s mega-pressure on them.I mean, who’s going to hire them for high-end jobs if they can’t keep hold of one miserable painting?”“You got a point there.”“Remember, even if we figure out how this happened, it doesn’t mean we know who took it.”To keep from blurting out that she was 99% sure of the thief’s name, Westen put the last of the pie in her mouth, and spent an inordinate amount of time chewing and washing it down with the rest of the coffee.“Come on, let’s go while it’s still daylight.We’ll start at the museum and check all the stoplights to look for pieces of frame or the packing material.”Smith drove to the highway exit and made a u-turn.There was a set of lights before the N.Main Street intersection.She stopped there.It wasn’t really likely as a point of entry for the thief because it was so out in the open, but Westen wanted to check anyway.She and Smith climbed from the car.Westen pointed west.“The truck would’ve been going in this direction.Let’s check both sides of the street and sidewalk.”Each took a different side, dodging cars and pedestrians, ignoring irritated honking.They found nothing but scraps of paper, wads of gum, a crumpled beer can, and half a soaking wet reefer.The next intersection yielded the same poor results and more irritated drivers.So did the third set of lights.Westen was growing depressed.They were almost at the State House.Nothing at this place either.Was it possible her scenario was wrong?By the time they reached the fourth intersection—the second to last before the museum—both women were dragging emotionally.“If it’s not here, I feel like it’s not anywhere,” Westen said.“How do you figure that? We just go back to—”“To where? The last place they would’ve had to slow down was probably coming through Vermont.“I felt so sure the thief got in at the first intersection off the highway.He needed time to open the crate, take out the painting, dislodge it from the wrappings, roll it up and stash it, probably in his shirt, heave out the pieces, then climb from the truck.KJ said it was about seven when they arrived at the museum, which means it was probably sometime after six when the guy got into the trailer.Traffic would’ve been heavy.Dusk would’ve been coming.”“I have a question.Why bother tossing out the frame? What should they care if we find it?”To that, Westen had no answer.They stood in the intersection—the very clean one.Smith planted her hands on her hips.“I was so sure your idea was right.”Her admission made Westen perk a little [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]