Framed For Love Read online

  She opened several more of the wrapped paintings but found none that matched the bunch she now thought of as the forged stack. Either they are taking them to be forged or they have just returned. Or I’m wrong entirely.

  She couldn’t prove any of it, and the conjecture didn’t get her closer to Jared. With a last pat on the re-wrapped painting of Mother Teresa, Cassi moved silently toward the door. It opened up onto a long hallway that was deserted, except for the ring of voices somewhere in the distance. They seemed to be fading, and she felt safe enough to begin looking inside the rooms.

  The building was not the business she’d expected, but a wealthy residential home. Everything had a newly built air, but was of far different construction than any she was familiar with in America. One of the windows overlooked an open field with nothing in view for miles but tall grass and weeds. This was definitely not the Paris she knew, but some far outskirt.

  Cassi heard the clinking of dishes ahead. She peeked into a large, square kitchen where a woman, also large and square, cooked food on a gas stove, her back toward Cassi. Her white apron gave Cassi an idea. Leaving the kitchen, she checked the next couple of rooms. The first was a bathroom, the second a laundry room. It didn’t take long to find another apron on the linen shelves across from an industrial-sized dryer. Cassi tied it on, and then picked up a rag and a can of what looked like furniture polish. Thus disguised, she returned to her search. She hoped to find an office or a room that might hold some clues—anything to confirm her suspicions.

  The bottom floor had so far held only common rooms or bathrooms, but she felt sure she was close to some discovery. The next door revealed a small room with television monitors. Cassi looked at them closely, worried that her presence had been recorded, but the screens showed only the outside of the building. She dared flipping a few switches to make sure there were no cameras inside the house on other circuits. Relatively sure that there weren’t, she left the room and moved on to the next door. Before she could turn the knob, a hand closed over hers.

  She looked up at a bulky man who had appeared behind her, seemingly out of nowhere. From the corner of her eye, she glimpsed a stairway to the left. He must have come from up there.

  “What are you doin’ here?” he demanded.

  Cassi looked at him, her face a careful blank. She had been expecting to be spoken to in French, not American English. But now, if she let on that she understood, her assumed position as a household employee might be questioned. If she pretended to speak English with a French accent, she would have to face the other help, presumably French natives. For lack of a better solution, she remained silent.

  “Hey, what’s the matter with you? Are you deaf?” His question was meant to be insulting, but it resolved Cassi’s problem. Calling upon her rusty high school drama skills, she pointed to her ears and then her mouth and shrugged. Then she lifted the can of furniture polish and motioned toward the door.

  The man swore and muttered, “She is deaf! What’s the world coming to?” With exaggerated motions, he pointed at the door and then at her chest. “No. Do you understand?” His voice was two octaves louder than normal. “Don’t go in there. Boss in there. Tonight or tomorrow you go in and clean—after he leaves.”

  Cassi looked at him blankly, stifling a sudden urge to laugh at the ridiculous show.

  “Oh, come on.” His hand closed about her arm like a vise. Cassi winced as he half dragged her back to the kitchen. “I don’t know who hired this one,” he told the cook, “but tell her she needs to stay out of the boss’s office until we leave tonight. She’s deaf, but maybe she can lipread French. She sure don’t know what I’m sayin’.”

  The cook turned her round face to Cassi and said something in French. She looked so intense that Cassi nodded. The man turned, satisfied, and added over his shoulder as he left, “Big Tommy doesn’t want to be disturbed for any reason, hear? But the witch is going to the drawing room with a couple of guests and wants something to eat. See that she gets it.”

  The cook nodded with a smile that vanished as soon as he did. She muttered darkly, and began slamming dishes onto a large serving tray. Back she went to her pots to stir them and taste the contents. Then she made Cassi taste them. The food was good, and Cassi tried to show her approval. The older woman still wasn’t content; she added a few more spices and let the concoction simmer.

  Finally, the cook ladled the steaming food into the dishes she had laid out on the tray. When she was done, she grabbed the furniture polish from Cassi and placed the tray in her hands. In slow French, she spoke and pointed to the door. Cassi didn’t understand, but left the room with the tray. The cook went as far as the door with her. She gave Cassi another shove, this time less gentle. “Allez!”

  Cassi wandered down the hall as slowly as she dared in the direction the cook had pushed her. The witch the man mentioned must be down here somewhere, Cassi thought. She glanced behind her to make sure the cook had withdrawn before she began checking the rooms. A library, a bathroom, and a dining room. The only possible room left was the one with the huge window Cassi had gazed out perhaps twenty minutes before. She opened the door without knocking and faltered at the scene.

  Jared!

  Love rushed through her heart, and it was all she could do to prevent herself from saying his name and running across the room to meet him. Remember, you are not Cassi, she told herself. You are a deaf maid. You hear nothing, and you know no one.

  Slowly, the rest of the scene filtered into her mind. A unshaven Jared knelt on the floor before Laranda, exquisite in her wheelchair throne. Another man sprawled on the ground close to the door, and two fit-looking men in casual clothes stood nearby, their muscles taut and ready. All faces turned toward her, except for the doubled-up man on the floor who grabbed at his stomach, unseeing. Cassi saw with a mental start that it was Trent. The healing wounds amidst the hair growth on his face made identification difficult. Her eyes met Jared’s. His face was bleeding. He stared, blinking once as though to clear his vision. She saw the fury in his expression flicker.

  You don’t know me! she thought at him. She held her breath and waited for discovery.

  * * *

  “IT’S TIME FOR MY DINNER,” Laranda said. “Or breakfast, if we were still in America. Will you join me, Jared?”

  Jared couldn’t speak. He continued to stare at Cassi, but she looked right through him as though she didn’t know or care who he was. He studied her more intently. It was Cassi, wasn’t it? But what happened to her hair? It looked worse than awful.

  Then her eyebrows scrunched together in that unique way of hers, and his doubt evaporated. He wanted to scream at her to run and at the same time take her in his arms, to let her nearness wash away the horror of the past week. But she continued to look through him, and he understood that she wanted him to pretend he didn’t know her.

  With effort, he forced himself to look away and took a few steps on his knees toward Trent. “Are you okay?” he asked.

  Trent grunted and pulled himself shakily to his feet. His face was haggard, and his hand pressed against his stomach as though he wanted to vomit.

  “I’m sorry,” Jared murmured in a voice that only Trent could hear.

  “I’ve had worse,” Trent said.

  Jared knew. He also knew that long after their scars healed—if they lived long enough for them to heal—their dreams would still reflect the terror of these days.

  “So are you joining me, Jared?” Laranda asked. “Or should I have the guards take you back to your room? I won’t force you to eat.”

  Jared glanced at Cassi through half-closed eyes. She had come to the low table in front of the sofa and was placing the items from her tray onto its wood top. Even with her crazy haircut, he thought she was beautiful. He didn’t want to be with Laranda one more second, but he couldn’t bear to leave Cassi. “I’ll stay,” he said. “If you tell me what’s going on.”

  “I don’t do deals with you. Not yet. Are you staying or not?�
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  “I’ll stay,” he said, biting back a snarl.

  “Then sit on the sofa and behave yourself.” He noticed that once again Laranda ignored Trent completely.

  “I take my coffee black,” Laranda said. “Give it to me, girl.”

  To Jared’s surprise, Cassi ignored her.

  “I said, give me the coffee.”

  Still Cassi ignored her. Just when Jared thought Laranda might strike her, Cassi faced Laranda and pointed to the table, mimicking the act of pouring the coffee.

  “Of course,” Laranda said. “I’ve asked you twice already.”

  Cassi looked surprised. She pointed to her ears. “I no hearrr. Sorrry.” She said the words with a vaguely French accent, so garbled that Laranda didn’t understand.

  “She’s deaf,” Jared said, marveling at her ingenuity. With such a disguise, people would not only be reluctant to question her, they might have a tendency to speak more freely.

  Laranda looked sharply at him.

  “It’s the way she talks,” he explained. “I had a friend who couldn’t hear when I was a child. He learned to speak a little, and it sounded like her.” Well, a little, he added to himself.

  Laranda considered for a moment, and then motioned for Cassi to pour the coffee. Cassi offered sugar, but Laranda refused.

  The unhappy party lasted for longer than Jared liked. He forced himself to choke down some of the food, which was really very good. The main dish was a stew of sorts, with creamy potatoes and some kind of meat. A container with steamed vegetables and a plate with pastries made up the rest of the feast.

  Trent ate hungrily, never once looking at Laranda or anyone else. Neither Trent nor Laranda appeared to recognize Cassi, though that wasn’t too surprising. Laranda had seen Cassi only once in New York three months ago, and Trent had seen his wife’s friend a mere handful of times over the years.

  Laranda was obviously enjoying the pastries, and Jared decided it was time to take advantage of her contentedness. “What can I do to convince you to let us go, Laranda?”

  “I’ve made my decision. You might as well make yourself comfortable here.”

  Jared glanced at Cassi, and an idea occurred to him. “In a bedroom like a pigsty? Can’t you get someone to clean it?”

  Laranda raised her eyebrows. “I didn’t realize it wasn’t up to your standards. I’ll send someone to clean it at once.” She grabbed Cassi’s left hand, and Jared noticed that her engagement ring had slipped around so the diamond was hidden inside her palm, leaving a plain band for the world to see.

  Smart, Jared thought. In Europe, diamonds weren’t as popular as in America—especially among the poorer class.

  Laranda pointed first at Cassi and then at Jared. “You clean his room. Understand?”

  Cassi made a wiping motion and nodded.

  Jared laid his plate on the coffee table, hardly daring to believe his luck. “I think I’ll go back now. I’m tired.”

  Laranda laughed. “The morning’s only just beginning in America. But go on. I’ll send for you later, and we’ll continue our discussion in a more private setting.”

  Jared didn’t reply. There was nothing he wanted to discuss with Laranda—ever.

  “But don’t get too comfortable,” she added. “We’ll be leaving soon for another country.”

  Jared didn’t hide his surprise. “We just got here.”

  “Our business didn’t take long, and I have more elsewhere. We’ll be moving on next week.”

  “Where?”

  “Você fala Português?”

  “Huh?”

  In answer Laranda gave another laugh. She signaled Cassi to go with Jared, Trent, and the guards. “And don’t try talking with the maid,” she called after them. “You won’t find a sympathetic ear . . . get it?” She smirked at her joke. Jared didn’t reply.

  They went down the hall and then up a short flight of stairs to the second story, with Cassi bringing up the rear. When they reached the room, Jared noticed that Cassi held a bucket of cleaning supplies and that she was flushed as though she had been running to catch up. The guards opened the door and let them in. One of the guards, not the one who had hit them, told Cassi, “Knock on the door when you’re finished.”

  She ignored him.

  “She’s deaf,” Jared reminded him. “And she’s not looking at you. But I’m sure she knows the routine. Being deaf doesn’t mean she’s stupid.”

  The guard glowered but shut the door behind them without another word. The minute the lock clicked, Jared met Cassi in a fierce hug and began kissing her. It felt so good to touch her, to hold her in his arms. Love burned in Jared’s heart as she responded to his fervent kisses with an intensity he’d never experienced, not even with her.

  “I’ve missed you so much,” she said between kisses. Tears fell from the corners of her eyes and wet her cheeks.

  He buried his face in her neck. The long, beautiful locks were gone, but she still smelled like his Cassi. “I’ve missed you, too.” He kissed her again, long and searchingly, finding everything he needed in her touch. “I love you.”

  The sound of someone clearing his throat made them look at Trent. “Excuse me,” he said. “Would one of you care to let me in on what’s going on?”

  “It’s me—Cassi. Don’t you recognize me?” She touched her hair. “Oh, yeah. I forgot. I had to cut it to get . . . never mind. Think of it as a disguise. It’ll grow back.”

  “I think it’s adorable,” Jared said. “The color’s rather odd, but it could be blue, for all I care.” He kissed her again.

  “I thought you might be dead.” Cassi rubbed her cheek against the hair on his face. “But I still kept hoping . . .”

  “I thought that a couple of times myself.” He held her tighter. “Oh, it’s so good to hold you. But you shouldn’t have come. Why are you so—”

  “Impulsive? That’s the same question I keep asking myself. But I had to—especially when I learned she was alive.”

  “You knew about Laranda?”

  “She left me a message on my cell phone.”

  “They took my phone. She must have gotten the number from that.”

  “I found the keys.”

  “You found them?”

  She nodded. “And the envelope.”

  “Where is it?”

  “I left it in the garage here. I don’t think anyone can find it, but it doesn’t matter because my brother has a copy. And Carl, too. He came to France with me to examine the paintings at the addresses on the list, and now he’s on his way to San Diego to look up Linden’s friends at the FBI.” She gulped noticeably, and a strange expression passed over her face. Jared could describe it only as emptiness.

  “Linden’s dead,” she said. “I saw them shoot him.”

  He gathered her to him and held her close. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  She didn’t reply or cry as he expected. Instead, her expression was blank. Before he could question her about this unlikely response, Trent spoke. “Hey, I’m sorry to interrupt here, but we need to talk about how we’re getting out, don’t we?”

  “Carl will help,” Cassi said, pulling back slightly. Jared released her and contented himself with holding her hand. “I need to call him or my brother. The only problem is knowing who to trust. Robbie thinks there’s a leak somewhere in the FBI, and I didn’t know what to do.”

  “So you decided to come yourself,” Jared said.

  She grinned crookedly. “Wouldn’t you do the same?”

  “You know I would.” He squeezed her hand.

  Her smile changed to a frown. “Why didn’t you tell me what was going on? You should have trusted me.”

  “I would have. But it was just a conversation Trent and I had on the phone. The papers hadn’t arrived. Besides, I was a little busy getting ready to marry the most beautiful woman in the world.”

  A shadow of a smile reappeared on Cassi’s lips. “Oh, yeah? What was her name?”

  Jared saw Trent r
oll his eyes, but the smile on his face was genuine—the first Jared had seen since their capture. He obviously remembered what it was like to be newly in love.

  “I’m not sure of her name,” Jared said, “but I think she has brown hair, not red like yours.”

  Cassi hit him, smiling. Then she glanced at her watch. “We would have been getting married right about now.”

  Tenderness surged through Jared, but anger was close on its heels. He clenched his jaw. “I’ll make it up to you.”

  She kissed him on the lips. “How about we get out of this alive and make it up to each other?”

  “Deal.” He took her hand and led her to one of the two wing-backed chairs in the room. He sat on the coffee table, leaving Trent to guard the door. “Now, tell us what you know.”

  “It’s more like what I suspect.” Cassi outlined everything she had seen and done in the past few days. Jared noticed that she seemed purposely vague about Linden’s death and about losing a borrowed car in a lake. When he asked for details, she insisted she would explain later. “We don’t have much time now.”

  Trent listened without interruption, except once to ask about his wife and again near the end of Cassi’s narration. “So in a nutshell,” he said, “Laranda has teamed up with this Big Tommy guy, and they are selling forged paintings for the real thing, maybe more than once in different parts of America or here in Europe. But won’t somebody notice?”

  “Not if the forgeries are good enough. I mean, I’m familiar with some of the paintings, and I couldn’t tell. Carl is better than I am, and he couldn’t either. Dr. Medard said he hired an expert to examine his painting before he bought it.”

  “They could have examined the original,” Jared said.

  Cassi nodded. “That’s exactly what I thought. But the fact remains that if they’re forging art—and I really don’t see any other possibility—then the person they have doing the forgeries is a genius in his own right. Talent like that shouldn’t be wasted on forgery.”

  “If this guy is so good, could you be wrong about the Mother Teresa painting being genuine?” Trent asked. “Maybe all the stuff you saw in that room was forged.”