Framed Shadows: Shadows Landing #6, Kathleen Brooks [great novels of all time TXT] 📗

off some rounds. They must have hit because the car chasing him swerved. Finally, he saw police lights ahead of him. Paxton fired off a few more rounds and then gave them the middle finger as the gate to the private airfield came into view.

The car behind him slammed on the brakes and spun in the street. They were already taking off in the opposite direction before the airport police had made it out of the parking lot.

The second Paxton stopped his car a man opened the door. “Agent Kendry, I’m your pilot. Shall we depart for Shadows Landing?”

So this was how Ryker rolled. Paxton wondered at the fact the pilot didn’t blink at the gunshot car or the gun Paxton holstered as he got out of the driver’s seat.

“That would be great, thank you.” If the pilot could act as if a high-speed shootout were normal, so could Paxton.

Tinsley was going to ask Ryker how he was going to get the information on the stolen art when his phone rang and he stepped outside. No one at the table spoke. Instead, they looked over at the bar to where Georgina smiled and joked with Gator, Skeeter, and Turtle.

“What happened to her?” Tinsley asked Harper.

“I don’t know. She’ll tell us when she’s ready. Don’t anyone push her or I’ll kick their ass,” Harper threatened.

Ryker pushed open the door and strode back to his seat at the table. “What’s happened?” Tinsley asked.

“Paxton called and needs a lift,” Ryker said as he shrugged out of his suit coat before taking his seat. “Georgina, I’ll take a bourbon, please,” he called out to her.

Georgina poured the drink and brought it to him. Tinsley smiled at her as Georgina placed it in front of Ryker. “Someday you’ll have to tell them who you really are, Miss Greyson,” Ryker murmured, his voice barely a thread of sound. Tinsley’s eyes widened as Georgina’s face lost all color for the second time that night. Georgina looked around to see if anyone overheard and Tinsley looked away, pretending not to hear. It was clear Georgina had a past she didn’t want anyone to know about and Tinsley wasn’t going to pry. Harper had been correct. She would tell them when she was ready.

“Ryker, what’s going on with Paxton?” Tinsley asked once Georgina was back behind the bar.

“Gang members were watching his apartment. Miss Tibbie gave him a wig and he staged a race to Atlanta to confront the leader. He’s trying to keep his cover here intact. He’s hoping the members staking out his apartment took pictures of him in his costume and are sharing that look among the gang. He’s probably going to have to lie low once he’s here, too. He just doesn’t want to leave you. Want me to call Mallory and Blythe back?” Ryker asked.

“Let me talk to Paxton first. Thanks, Ryker.”

Tinsley and her family hadn’t taken a bite of dinner before the door opened and Paxton came in. He tossed a wig on the table and sat down next to Ryker.

“Thanks for the loan of your helicopter. The back of my vehicle is now shot to shit, but I got into the private airfield before they could gain too much on me. Happily, the airport police were waiting to chase them off.” Paxton leaned over and kissed Tinsley. She saw the dark brown makeup on his face and wanted to ask him what happened when Ryker cursed.

“What is it?” Tinsley asked, her whole body on edge. Paxton reached over and took her hand in his as they waited for the bad news.

“The Vermeer has been traced to the last owner before the Smith family got it.” The table fell silent as Ryker handed his phone to Tinsley. Her eyes raced over the report and she had to read it again because her brain didn’t compute it.

“Is it the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum?” Ellery asked when Tinsley wasn’t quick to respond.

“No,” Tinsley said, feeling her hands begin to shake. She took a deep breath and handed the phone back to Ryker. “Ryker’s contact found the art dealer the fake Smith family supposedly bought the art from in the late 1940s.”

“That’s good, right? So it wasn’t really stolen or was it stolen from that art dealer?” Ellery asked.

“It was most definitely stolen, but it wasn’t stolen by the Smith family. It was given to them by the Argentinians to be fenced would be my guess,” Tinsley said as she imagined the timeline of the provenance of the art.

“I don’t understand,” Ellery said slowly.

“I know Smith is a fake name. I know the last provenance from the 1940s is fake. What wasn’t fake was the name of the art dealer in Buenos Aires. When dealing with stolen art, the more truth you keep to the provenance and story of the paintings, the harder it is to find out it’s stolen. Like any good lie, you keep to the truth as much as possible. There was an art dealer in 1949 Buenos Aires who got this painting from a Señor Roberto Fernandez. However, in 1964, Roberto Fernandez was kidnapped from his middle-class suburban home in Buenos Aires because his real name was Mannes Reuter, a close associate of Adolf Eichmann, one of Adolf Hitler’s most trusted men who had killed tens of thousands of innocent people in Budapest during 1944 and countless people before that.

“The dealer who sold the art in 1949 was one of Eichmann’s soldiers. Eichmann and Reuter escaped Hungary and made their way to Italy. The leader of Argentina, which at that time was allied with Hitler, gave them fake papers and passage from Italy to Buenos Aires. There they hid in plain sight, selling off artwork they’d stolen from Jewish families until they were tracked down by a group of Nazi hunters who smuggled them both out of the country and brought them to justice for their war crimes.”

Tinsley sat back in her chair. Her eyes filled with unshed tears as