The Exhibition (An Executive Decision Trilogy) (18 page)

BOOK: The Exhibition (An Executive Decision Trilogy)
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Instantly all eyes were on Harris, but before he could say anything, Wade blurted out, ‘New World Gallery was in debt to Omega Trust, which, through some barely legal bullshit, is now Core Invest.’

For a second, the room was silent. Harris could swear everyone was holding their breath. At last, Ellis inhaled slowly. ‘I had no idea. Jesus! Why didn’t she tell anyone? Fuck! It’s a wonder she came out of it alive.’

Harris felt a cold prickle rise up his spine. It was all he could do to keep from leaving right this minute to find her, to make sure she was safe. He forced his attention back to what was being said, what he might need to know before he made a quick exit to her.

‘All this time I thought Jamison spent the big bucks at her auction just to thumb his nose at me,’ Ellis said.

‘There’s something else you should know.’ Flannery had the room’s attention again. ‘Stacie didn’t tell me this, but a couple of the workmen did. New World Gallery West was vandalized a couple of weeks ago.’

‘What?’ Harris was out of his chair and so was Marston.

Flannery continued, ‘The foreman said when she saw it, she didn’t look so much angry as scared. Then, apparently, she pulled herself together, refused to call the police, and asked the foreman to bring in extra crews, work extra shifts, whatever it took to get the repairs done.’

The knot in Harris’ chest was nearly painful. ‘I need to go to her,’ he managed.

But Dee laid a hand on his arm and settled him back into the chair. ‘You need to know what’s going on first.’

‘Just like New York,’ Wade said. That got the full attention of everyone. Then he and Harris explained what they’d found during their little research session in the Dungeon.

Stunned silence settled over the room again. At last, Ellis offered a strangled whisper. ‘I had no idea. None of us did.’

‘Fuck!’ The look on Alan Marston’s face was pure anguish. ‘When Zoe Hanson committed suicide and saddled Stacie with all that debt, Jamison owned her. Goddamn it! I’m so stupid. Why in God’s name didn’t I see it before? I shoulda. It’s obvious now.’ He tugged on his tie hard enough to strangle himself and continued. ‘Like I said, Stacie and I, we go way back. I met her when she started working at New World Gallery. I knew she was a bright young lady even then. I was there. When the shit hit the fan I thought she’d made some bad deal with some loan shark, and when she ended up in the hospital –’ Marston’s face went beet red and he looked like he could explode. ‘It was that motherfucker. Had to be! Had to be!’

‘What? He beat her?’ Harris felt a mix of panic and raw rage burn in his chest. ‘Jamison beat Stacie?’

Marston nodded, now looking a little green around the gills. ‘I knew Jamison and Zoe Hanson were thick as thieves, but I had no idea with Stacie. All I knew was that Zoe had left her in a real mess, and I thought she’d turned to some loan shark for help. And Stacie, well, she never asked me for help, never complained, never said a word. Wouldn’t take help when I offered, except toward the end for treatment for Zoe, and she paid every cent of that back. I introduced her to Sasha Ivanov from the Hermitage Museum. I thought maybe something could come of it; at least keep the wolves at bay for another month. And damned if she didn’t negotiate one of the biggest exhibitions of art from the museum the US has ever had. Enough to get the gallery running in the black. I was there the night she paid it all off. Me and half of New York City’s movers and shakers and I don’t know how much goddamned news media toasted her.’

‘I can’t believe Jamison would let her walk away, even if she did pay off the debt,’ Ellis said.

‘Doubt he would’ve if she hadn’t done it all in such a public way. I reckon that was K. Ryde’s doing. She did tell me that she’d hired the Ryde Agency for PR. Back then nobody’d ever heard of them, but fuck if they didn’t get the job done.’

Before Harris could let the thought of Kendra having a role in Stacie’s very frightening past sink in, Ellis spoke up.

‘I still don’t understand why Jamison would be involved with an insignificant gallery, one that was by all appearances a bad investment,’ he said, then he turned his attention back to Martin Flannery. ‘And I can’t believe after what you saw you’d just sit back on your hands and do nothing, Martin.’

Flannery gave a square-shouldered shrug. ‘I didn’t say I sat back on my hands. The limo took Stacie to the Hotel Monaco. She was there for less than 30 minutes. My man tells me it was Jamison who answered the door. When she came out, Jamison had one of his security thugs escort her to the limo, which delivered her back to the gallery. But she didn’t come inside. Instead, she got in the Lexus and went to the bank. After that, she went straight home. What?’ he said as if he’d just noticed all eyes were on him. ‘She might fire my ass if she finds out. But it was a risk I felt was worth taking.’

Harris’ respect for Flannery skyrocketed. Jesus, no wonder his daughter was such a pit bull journalist.

‘Oh, one more thing you should know,’ Flannery added. ‘Jamison’s having Stacie tailed. I’ve seen the guy around outside the gallery a couple of times. Had him checked out. He’s a good PI – one of the best, actually. Just not as good as I am.’

‘It sounds to me like maybe Jamison hasn’t let Stacie go then,’ Ellis said.

‘While I find Stacie’s situation disturbing,’ Wade said, ‘I don’t see how it has anything to do with the coup in Valderia.’

‘Maybe it doesn’t,’ Ellis replied, ‘but if Stacie’s in danger, then we need to take care of it. We need to make sure she’s safe.’ He ran a hand through his hair and puffed out a heavy breath. ‘Martin, keep your men on her at all times. I don’t care if she fires your ass. I’ll reimburse you. Just keep her safe.’

‘Yes, you just keep that young lady safe,’ Marston added. ‘That’s the main thing.’

For a few seconds, there was silence around the table. Harris felt as though his pulse would explode from his throat. How could he have underestimated Stacie so badly? And she was clearly in danger.

‘I’m going to her,’ he said. ‘If you need me, you know how to reach me.’

He gave Dee a quick hug and was halfway out the door before Ellis called after him.

‘Be careful, Harris. This doesn’t feel good.’

Chapter Twenty-two

The bouquet was nearly as big as the delivery man, who peeked around it, offering Stacie a broad smile. No doubt he figured she’d be pleased to get such a lovely gift. But even as she tipped him and sent him on his way, she felt a rising sense of dread. She knew the flowers were from Jamison. His bouquet had been by far the largest at Zoe’s funeral. Everyone thought he mourned her. Everyone thought he honored her memory.

‘Do you like the flowers?’ he had whispered as he had scooted in next to her on the pew.

Her response had been a non-committal nod. She hadn’t wanted to talk, and especially not to him. The pianist played Bach’s
Prelude Number 1 in C Major
. It had been Zoe’s favorite. The church was packed. Zoe had lots of friends, most of them now Stacie’s friends as well, but no amount of flowers or music could disguise the raw sense of shock and loss.

Disregarding the place and the occasion, he traced the curve of her ear with his finger, and she would have slid away from him, further down the pew, if she hadn’t already been at the end. The kiss he planted lingered just a little too long in its humid urgency, making her feel as though he had shoved her against the wall and pinned her there. ‘The flowers –’ his voice was just loud enough to be heard above the music, just loud enough to make the people in the pew next to them glance over ‘– they’re really for you, Stacie. You’re the one who’ll suffer Zoe’s loss the most.’

Shaking off the memory, she steeled herself and opened the envelope that had come with the flowers. A picture of some woman she didn’t recognize fell out onto the floor. She picked it up and offered it a passing glance, then turned her attention to the note, making sure she was seated before she read it. It was a good thing. Inside the envelope was a memorial card from a funeral home.

Stacie shoved a hand against her mouth and swallowed down rising panic. Everything in her went cold with dread. On the front of the card was a stock print of praying hands. Inside was a Bible quote from Ecclesiastes.

To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:

A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted.

Relief made her weak all over when she saw there was no name of a deceased on the card, no obituary, no list of close relatives. Instead there was just a note.

My Dearest Stacie,

The beauty of these flowers pales in comparison to your own. But alas so much of beauty is fleeting, isn’t it? We both experienced that in the loss of our dear Zoe. One must enjoy every moment to the fullest as you and I so well know. You and I both understand how quickly so much that we value can be taken from us; in an instant, in a heartbeat, almost as though it had never been.

BTW, do you like Ingrid Watson’s new look? My goodness, I think the girl has a bit of a crush on you. Hero worship, you know? I think she wants to be just like you, and of course, I can deny her nothing, as I could never, nor shall I ever deny you. I’m delighted at our chance to work together once more, my darling, and I look forward to enjoying your company again very soon.

Yours always,

TJ

She picked up the photo from the desk and studied it. Sure enough, she could now see that it was Ingrid Watson, all blond and primped and looking nothing at all like herself. Looking creepily like Stacie.

She grabbed for her BlackBerry, tried Ingrid’s number. There was no answer. She sent a text.

Are you all right, Ingrid?

Not wanting to worry the woman unnecessarily, she added quickly;

I haven’t heard from you in a while and I was hoping we could catch up. Would love to chat with you at your convenience.

She had just pulled up email to cover all her bases when she saw the message from Ingrid. It was sent at 6:30 this morning, but for some reason she had only just gotten it. It read,

Ms. Emerson, I’m in town with Terrance Jamison. I‘d love to see you as soon as possible. I was just wondering, are you all right? Is Mr. Walker all right?

Panic rolled over her in a wave and the knot of fear in her chest felt like a fist. The message was sent hours ago! Why the hell hadn’t she gotten it? She punched in Harris’ number frantically, and cursed out loud when there was no answer.

‘Call me. Now,’ she half yelled into his voicemail. She dropped her device three times before she managed a text and an email to him. She was just getting ready to call Ellis when Harris bust through the door of her office and scooped her into his arms, into a hug that left her breathless.

‘Thank God you’re all right.’

‘I was so worried.’

They both spoke at the same time, then he took her mouth in a crushing kiss. ‘Why the hell didn’t you tell me? Jesus, Stacie, did you think I wouldn’t understand?’ He pulled her still tighter against him. ‘I was so worried. We were all so worried.’

‘Understand what? What are you talking about?’ She’d barely managed to catch a breath before his attention lit on the flowers and the funeral card lying on her desk.

‘From Jamison.’ It wasn’t a question. Before she could do more than nod, he picked up the card and read it. The transformation on his face was a study in hard lines and harsh angles, a place where anger and frustration coexisted in tight knots of muscles and square set of jaw. His breathing, which had never slowed since his arrival, shoved at his chest faster and faster, as though it couldn’t wait to escape its confinement.

Willing her hand to remain steady, struggling to control her own upwelling of emotion at his safety, at his presence, she took the card from Harris and laid it back on the desk. ‘He … He sent flowers like this, almost identical, to Zoe’s funeral.’ She looked up into his angry eyes. ‘He knew I’d make the connection.’

‘The sick fuck,’ Harris fumed. He picked up the picture of Ingrid Watson from the floor where it had fallen, and flinched as though he’d been slapped, looking first at her and back at the photo. ‘Jesus,’ he whispered. ‘His doing?’

She nodded. ‘Has to be. Ingrid had beautiful dark hair and she was slightly goth-ish. The look fit her.’

‘Have you been in touch with her?’ He asked.

‘I texted. I was about to send an email, then I got this. It just came. I don’t know why the delay.’ She handed him her BlackBerry.

‘Fuck, Stacie! Jesus!’ He looked up at her.

‘You’re gonna want to ignore the message I left with your voicemail. When she mentioned your name, asked how you were, I … was scared. I never did hear back from Ingrid. With any luck she’s safely on a flight home to Minnesota by now.’ She wanted to believe that desperately. But she didn’t. Not really.

‘Stacie.’ He took her in his arms and held her close. ‘Stacie, why’s he doing this?’

She wasn’t sure what words might have come from her mouth if her BlackBerry hadn’t rung. She gave a little yelp of surprise and grabbed it back from Harris’ hand. He moved close to her to listen in.

‘Who is it?’ he whispered. ‘Is it him?’

‘It’s the hospital,’ she mouthed. Then she sat down hard in the chair with Harris kneeling next to her, straining to hear. ‘I’ll be right there. Please tell her I’ll be right there,’ she managed. Her voice sounded far away, like it belonged to someone else.

‘What is it? Stacie, what’s the matter?’ He shook her gently.

‘It’s Ingrid Watson. She’s in the hospital. She’s been assaulted. She’s asking for me.’ Stacie shoved to her feet and grabbed her bag and keys.

‘I’ll drive,’ Harris said. ‘We can take the Jeep. You don’t need to do this alone.’

For that, Stacie was relieved. Right now, she didn’t want to let Harris out of her sight.

They didn’t speak again until they were in the Jeep and on the road. Then he shot her a sideways glance. ‘You all right?’ He couldn’t help noticing her white-knuckle grip on the arm rest.

‘Fine.’ Her voice was breathless, like she’d been running.

Before she could say more, he continued, ‘Jamison did this to her?’

She only nodded, staring out the windshield at the road in front of them.

He glanced at her again. ‘I know what he did to you with the New York Gallery, Stacie.’

The look she shot him was panic-stricken, wild-eyed. But he didn’t give her time to respond. ‘Why didn’t you tell anyone? Why didn’t you tell me?’

She stiffened. His shoulders tightened in empathy, in fear that he’d said too much. At last, she replied in a voice that was tight with control. ‘I don’t talk about that part of my life because it was horrible, that’s why. And because …’

‘Because why?’

‘Because I don’t want anyone feeling sorry for me. I made it out alive, which is more than I can say for Zoe.’

Harris felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. ‘Did he …? Did Jamison …?’

‘He might as well have. He badgered her and used her and threatened her until she despaired. Zoe wasn’t strong. She never was, and he knew it, and he … He killed her as surely as if he had put the gun in her mouth and pulled the trigger. And now he’s after Ingrid for no other reason than to get to me.’

They stopped for a red light and he studied her, rigid and angry as he’d never seen her before. But he was beginning to suspect that he really had never actually seen her before. ‘Look, I understand you not wanting to dredge up the past. No one would under the circumstances, and especially not after all you’ve done to move beyond it. But what’s going on now isn’t the past. The man’s a monster and, for whatever reason, he’s made you his target as well as Ellis.’

She jerked against the seatbelt and turned her gaze on him. ‘Ellis? What’s he got to do with this? What’s he done to Ellis?’

‘There’s been a coup in Valderia. All of Pneuma’s access properties have been nationalized. Jamison’s financing that coup.’

Whatever she said under her breath, Harris was guessing it wasn’t nice. She turned her attention back to the road. ‘I didn’t know, but it doesn’t surprise me, knowing Jamison.’

‘Stacie –’ he glanced over at her as the light changed ‘– why’s he bothering you now, after all this time?’

For a long moment, she said nothing, as if she were choosing her words carefully. Then she spoke, with the full measure of venom in her voice. ‘Because I provoked him.’

‘You provoked him? You provoked Jamison? How did you do that? Why would you do that?’

‘You’ve provoked him too by not staying away from me,’ came her response. Before he could tell her that was just too damned bad, she continued, ‘Harris, please. I don’t want to talk about this now. Can we just get to the hospital?’

He released an uneasy breath and focused his attention on the road. ‘All right. I can wait. But I want some answers, Stacie, and I’m not the only one.’

As a reminder of the others waiting for answers, his BlackBerry rang. He picked up in spite of his strict no-cell-phones-while-driving policy. He knew it was Ellis.

‘She’s all right. We’re on the way to the hospital. Ingrid Watson’s been assaulted.’

He held the device away from his ear as Ellis let loose a string of expletives. ‘She’s asking for Stacie,’ he finally managed. He gave Ellis the name of the hospital, knowing that if some of Flannery’s men weren’t there by the time he and Stacie arrived, they would be shortly after. He disconnected and stomped on the gas.

He didn’t offer to drop her at the entrance of the hospital while he parked the Jeep, and she didn’t ask. He got the distinct impression it was a toss-up as to who was the most afraid to let the other out of their sight.

It was a footrace to keep up with her as she made her way to the emergency room reception desk just as Flannery and two of his men showed up to flank them. But the desk was in chaos. There at reception, a harried ER doctor was gesticulating wildly and the nurse behind the desk was calling security.

‘This woman needs medical care. You can’t just swoop in and take her away like this. The police may need to be contacted,’ Harris heard the doctor say.

Suddenly Stacie gave a growl that sent chills up his spine. She broke from his tight grip on her arm and shoved her way past the doctor. It was then that Harris saw the man hovering over a battered-looking woman in a wheelchair. It was Terrance Jamison. And the woman, whose face was swollen and bruised, could have passed for Stacie. Harris felt sick at the sight. He lurched forward and grabbed for Stacie, but she was already kneeling in front of the wheelchair, holding the woman’s hands.

‘Ingrid. I’m here. I came as fast as I could.’ Stacie smoothed the hair away from her swollen face and addressed the ER doctor. ‘Why is this woman being released? She clearly needs medical attention?’

‘I agree, Stacie darling,’ Jamison responded before the doctor could as he reached a solicitous hand out to Stacie. She ignored it and glared at him. He continued as though nothing out of the ordinary was happening. ‘I have access to much better medical treatment than our poor Ingrid will ever get here. I want her where she can receive the best, and I’m the one who can see she gets it, who can best oversee her convalescence. Portland can be such a dangerous place. And really, I feel responsible, since it was I who invited her as my guest.’

When Jamison grabbed for her, Stacie jerked her arm away. ‘She asked for me, Terrance. Not you. And she’ll get what she needs just fine here. Now leave us alone.’ As she spoke, Harris moved to back her up, with Flannery’s men flanking. But Jamison wasn’t alone either. The two Armani-suited men hovering by the reception desk were no doubt his, and Harris suspected the two men loitering by the door were as well.

Jamison took him in with a smirk Harris would have liked to beat off his smug face, then he waved a dismissive hand. ‘Really, Stacie, you didn’t have to bring your fanboy.’

‘You touch her again and you’ll see just how much of a fanboy I am,’ Harris growled. One of Flannery’s men laid a warning hand on Harris’ shoulder.

For an instant, Jamison’s smirk flattened out to raw, bullet-proof hatred, then softened and brightened again as he turned his attention back to Stacie. ‘It’s simple. After the nurse called you, Ingrid changed her mind, realizing that I could best see to her medical care and make sure she gets the protection she needs.’

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