Love Story (12 page)

“What happened to bring you back?”

“About three months ago, I was drafted by an elite task
force set up by the mayor of the city. They take on cases that haven’t risen to the level of Homeland Security but are important. I was assigned to the Met to get to the bottom of the emails, in case they escalated or on the off chance they were connected to terrorists. I’ve been working with Will Davidson.”

I was called into security. Will Davidson’s interviewing the custodial staff who was
on the floor yesterday…I saw the emails, you got more messages than anyone else.

“So you were undercover?”

“Yes.”

I hope this place doesn’t turn into Fort Knox…Don’t go writing a James Bond novel yet.

“What did you do?”

“Investigate the people who work at the Met.”

“Me?” she asked, her pulse speeding up. “Did you suspect me?”

“I had to suspect everybody, at first. That’s
why I followed you to the diner that fateful Friday. You have to admit, your actions were suspicious.”

“You kissed me that night. To make me pliable?”

“No. If you recall, you kind of threw yourself at me.”

“But you participated.”

“I was drawn to you right from the beginning. I knew it was wrong because of what I was keeping from you, and for a host of other reasons, but I couldn’t
stay away.”

She swallowed hard. “Did you ever think you shouldn’t have made love with me when I didn’t know your real identity?”

“Of course I did. But hell, Lizzie, I was in bed with you when you propositioned me.”

“Silly me. I should have known better not to get involved with someone I’d just met.”

“I’m…I’m sorry.”

“I can tell you are, Nick. But that doesn’t change anything.
At the very least, you should have told me this weekend.”

“I was going to, but I didn’t have the opportunity.” “Ah. That’s the explanation.”

“What do you mean?”

“I thought everything was real. Friday night, Saturday at the park, Sunday morning. But how could it have been if you were pretending?”

“I wasn’t. Not then. I meant every word I said.”

“I did, too. But this changes
things.”

“You don’t sound mad.”

“I’m not. You’re a hero who’s helping out society. You put yourself on the line for others for decades. I got caught in the crossfire, is all.”

“It sounds so…cold.”

“It would have been, if I hadn’t pursued you. Our relationship would have stayed adversarial. Not gone beyond the kiss. That’s on me.”

“Something tells me there’s an underside to
this. One I’m not going to like.”

“I can’t see you anymore, if that’s what you mean.”

“Why?”

“Because our relationship was a lie. Tell me, what were you going to do when this was over?”

“I was going to tell you the truth today.”

“So you say.”

“You don’t believe me.”

“It doesn’t matter if I do or not. Regardless, I jumped into this too fast. And I got serious, which
rarely happens. I don’t want to do it anymore.”

“You have to know I’m involved.”

“It doesn’t matter even if you are. Everything you’ve done is smoke and mirrors. I could never trust you. I’m not sure I want to.”

His hands linked between his legs. “Is there anything I can do to change your mind?”

“I doubt it. We’ll be colleagues at work now. I won’t tell anyone you’re undercover.”

“You know,” he said, his face reddening. “This is a little too civilized for me.”

“You want me to cry and break things?”

“No, of course not. But you should be mad, or upset.”

“All I feel is numb. It’s all I
want
to feel.”

“You know what? I don’t feel numb.
I’m
mad as hell.”

“Why?”

“Because something happened between us this weekend, and you’re going to toss it aside
because—what?—you’re scared it isn’t real?”

“That pretty much sums it up.”

Shaking his head, Nick stood. “I’m going. I’m sorry you won’t take a chance on seeing what we have together.”

She turned her head away. For her own self-protection, she had to let him leave.

Nick was ready to spit nails as he walked into the Met the next morning. He’d been up all night,
going over everything that had happened this weekend with Elizabeita, and today he was grumpy and tired.

He accessed his voice mail and found a message for him from Will, so he headed to security. Did he have to tell them that Elizabeita knew who he was? Fuck! How had this gotten so complicated?

Because he did what Morris asked him about. He was thinking with his dick. No, that wasn’t
true. But it was probably what Elizabeita thought. The notion made him understand her actions some, though he didn’t want to.

After knocking, he was told to enter. He found Will with Mae Michaels, a Cyber Crime agent. After greetings, he asked her, “Did you discover anything over the weekend in your analysis of the staff’s emails?”

“Yes.” The agent scowled. “We can’t trace the emails and
threats to anybody who works at the Met.”

“What does that mean?”

“The emailer probably isn’t connected to the museum. More than likely, he used the modern-art thing as a red herring to go after a staff member. He could even be a patron.”

Nick immediately thought of Mr. Kitowski. But hell, the man could hardly walk. “Any idea who’s the target?”

“Our threat-assessment team evaluated
the emails people have received here. They’re highly skilled in deciphering real threats. They’ve narrowed it down to three people. Delores Martin and Ellen Pratt.”

The back of his neck prickled. “Who’s the other one?”

“Elizabeita Ludzecky.”

I’m going away and I’d like you all to respect my privacy. Cat and Nia can fill you in, but please let me have this time for myself. I can only take off three days from work because I have an exhibit to plan for, but I need some alone time. I’m safe, and one person knows where I am, but I’ve sworn that person to secrecy. Please respect this.

And so, on Monday
morning, Elizabeita drove to upstate New York. Around noon, she was walking down Keuka Lake Road, trying to admire the line of fall trees—the leaves had begun to turn yellow and red. She smiled at nature’s beauty, even though her heart was breaking.

At least today, she felt better, having eaten an incredible breakfast at an inn near the Wainwright’s lake house. Bailey O’Neil had given her
the idea to come here when she mentioned the place at the pub yesterday. Only now, she’d come alone, not with her sisters, because Elizabeita needed to regroup. Get her head on straight. Get back to who she was before Nick Caseman, or Casella, crashed into it three weeks ago and made a shambles of her heart. She’d been complicit, too, and this was partly her fault.

She’d told him she couldn’t
trust him ever again, and she meant that. What’s more, she wanted him out of her life. He’d changed her too much. He’d caused her to feel anxious and depressed, which she couldn’t even abate with some daring sports now because of what he’d forced her to admit. There was no going back to risk-taker Lizzie.

Quite simply, Elizabeita wanted peace and quiet. And she’d take three full days of it.

“Hi, Delores. I can’t find Elizabeita. We’re supposed to work on the Dali/Picasso exhibit.” Nick wondered if the head of the department had been warned yet that she was a suspected target.

“Elizabeita took a couple of days off.”

“Seriously? Is that like her?”

“She’s had days off when a family member was ill. And she takes her vacation. But now that you mention it,
not anything unplanned like this.”

“I see.”

“Ellen can fill in for her on the exhibit.”

“Yeah, right.”

He worked during the morning with Ellen and the interns. Jay seemed upset that Elizabeita was off work. Probably because of the crush he had on her. Nick wondered if Cyber Crimes investigated the guy. Technically, he wasn’t employed by the Met. And he was showing a little too
much interest in her absence. Of course, that could be Nick’s possessiveness coloring his view. Still, he’d have to remember to ask Will about the kid.

At lunchtime, he gave up trying not to think about her and took a cab to the Secret Service offices in the city. At the entrance, the guard greeted him. “Can I help you?”

“I’m here to talk to Agent Ludzecky.”

The man scanned a clipboard.
“You aren’t on the visitor list.”

“Tell her it’s Captain Nick Casella. I met her yesterday. She’ll want to see me.”

“Captain, as in?”

Well, once a cop, always a cop. “The NYPD.”

The guy called upstairs and eventually Nick was let in. Caterina met him in the foyer. Her resemblance to Elizabeita, even in the severe suit and blouse, knotted his stomach. “I’m surprised to see you.”

“Why? I’m worried sick about her.”

She looked around. “Come on, let’s talk over there.” She led him to one of a few tables on the first floor and they sat across from each other.

Nick ran a hand through his hair. “Are you mad at me?”

“That depends. My first impression of the two of you together was that you care about each other. I know my sister, so I think it’s true for Lizzie.
But if you’re playing her, yes, I’m mad at you.”

“Hell, no. I care about her, too. It happened fast, though, so my head’s still spinning.”

“Then I feel bad for you both.”

“Do you know where she is?”

“We have no idea. She sent us a text last night asking for time alone.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Why?”

“Because in addition to feeling like shit about what’s
happened between us, I’m worried about her safety. She’s been designated as one of three possible targets of this email business.”

Caterina’s face tensed. “When did you find that out?”

“Today. And there’s something else.” He told her about the near miss with the cab. “We can’t be sure that was an accident.”

“This is my wheelhouse, you know.”

“The Cyber Crimes division is taking
over the email investigation. I’m staying undercover to work alongside them.”

“I’ll get in touch with them.”

“Meanwhile, where is she?”

“I don’t know. She did say one of us knows, but it’s none of the sisters or Luke. We talked this morning.”

“Is it your mother?”

“No.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah, shit!”

Elizabeita held the phone to her ear. “Baden Street Center.
Sammy speaking.” It was late afternoon before she remembered to call them.

“Hi, Sam. This is Elizabeita Ludzecky.”

“The pretty art lady.”

“Yeah. I’m not coming in tonight.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I came down with a bug.”

“You missed last Monday, too.” His tone was almost accusing.

“For work. The kids knew that.”

“They’ll be devastated if you don’t show tonight. You know
how touchy teenagers are. They’ll see this as abandonment.”

“Sam, I’m sick.”

“Oh, yeah. Do you need anything? I can take a break and get you ginger ale or tea. Wait, maybe you should go to the doctor’s. I could drive you.”

She appreciated the young man’s offer. He was a nice guy, concerned about her. What’s more, she believed his worry was genuine. Not a trait every man had, she’d
learned. At least all of the time. She really didn’t know if anything Nick had done or said was true.

“That’s sweet, but I just need some rest. Tell you what. I’ll come in Friday night. Let the kids know.”

“I will. I can’t wait. Call my cell if you need anything.” He rattled off the number.

Out of habit, she wrote it down and said good-bye. Elizabeita wished she hadn’t disappointed
the kids. Brandi especially. But people letting you down was part of life, and the young girl probably knew that better than she did.

Settling on the couch of the second floor, Elizabeita stared out at the lake. She liked to watch the water as the waves crashed along the shore. The sound drifted through the open window. Its rhythm was soothing.

Nick was a wreck. He’d spent
another sleepless night, pacing the floor, thinking about Elizabeita, wishing he could see her, talk to her, explain his actions. At 6:00 a.m. on Tuesday, he got up and made coffee. He was sipping the strong brew when his cell rang. “Casella.”

“Nick, this is Caterina Ludzecky.” “Did you find her?”

“I did. I have a couple of agents keeping an eye on her.”

Thank God, at least she’d be
safe. “Where is she?”

“I can’t tell you. Elizabeita’s an adult, even though we don’t treat her like one all the time. She can make her own choices. You’ll have to live with that.”

Fuck! Nothing was going his way.

After breakfast with Mellie, which he was at least able to enjoy, he went into work. When he got there, he found out Ellen was apparently out of the office, too. And at the
door to Gallery 12, Jay was frowning at the other intern. Nick stayed back, unseen.

“Geez, Jay, get a grip. I know you like her, but she’s entitled to some time off.”

“I just look forward to seeing her.” He sounded like a whiny kid.

“She’s out of your league, buddy.”

“You can think so. Maybe she doesn’t.”

Nick moved and the door creaked.

The interns turned to him. Jay flushed.
Yeah, Nick would be embarrassed, too, if he’d been heard mooning over one of the staff. Nick did
his
mooning in private.

They were measuring out the space for introductory text of the exhibit when someone came to the door. A man in a wheelchair. Mr. Kitowski.

“Can we help you?” Marianne asked.

“Yes, I’m a close friend of Ms. Ludzecky. I know she’s in charge of this exhibit. She’s very
excited about it. But she didn’t meet me as she usually does at our appointed time on Tuesday morning. Is she here?”

“No.” This from Jay. “They said she’s sick. I think it’s the flu.”

“The poor thing. I’m concerned.” He pulled out his cell phone. “Could you give me her number so I can call her?”