It looked a lot like one that Aimee was finishing up when I first started at the gallery.”
“Can you prove it?” Rhys asked, his hands bunching into fists on top of the table.
“I’m sure I have a picture of Kylie while she was painting the pumpkin. She’d started working on it before she left for New York, and I told her I wanted a picture before she got famous.” The image was clear in her mind—her friend standing at the canvas, wearing her pink apron as she always did when she painted. The idea was fresh, weird. She had been sure it would get her noticed in the art world.
It had. But she’d been noticed by the wrong person.
“I did think it was strange how Sean seemed to only hire young women from small towns,” Wren added. “None of us have the fancy education that most galleries require for our work. Kylie thought that meant he was looking for pure talent. The kind of rawness and honesty that some of those rich students don’t have. But what he really wanted were girls who were desperate and far away from home.”
How stupid had she been to come here? How stupid had she been not to stop Kylie from coming?
“I guess he figures it’s a low-risk scam since none of the gallery’s customers are likely to recognize the paintings of an unknown artist. And if he traumatizes the true artists, they’re too scared and ashamed to say anything. But he takes the precaution of hiding the paintings in this locked room in case one of the interns happens to recognize the paintings…as I did. I told him that Kylie and I were no longer friends because I didn’t want him to suspect my reason for accepting the internship, but I guess he was worried I’d see one of her paintings there.”
“If we can get footage from the storage room of her paintings, that might be enough to charge him with theft,” Quinn said, her face intensely serious.
Rhys shook his head. “His father was a judge. We need something concrete or else it won’t stick.”
Rhys was right; his father would no doubt do everything in his power to get Sean off the hook. They needed an admission from Sean on why he’d done what he’d done. Something he couldn’t wriggle away from.
The reason she’d never seen him working on a painting himself was because he had no talent. So he stole it from others, hoping to find his golden goose.
An idea sprang to Wren’s mind.
“I’ll get him to confess,” she said.
Rhys shook his head vehemently. “You’re not going anywhere near Sean Ainslie.”
“Hear me out.” She held up a hand. “You can put a wire on me or give me a recording advice. I’ll confront him at the gallery and get him to say that he’s been stealing the paintings and abusing these women.”
“No fucking way.”
“Hang on,” Quinn interjected. “Shouldn’t we at least run this past Owen? It might be our best bet at making sure we nail this guy once and for all.”
Rhys looked as though he were about to explode. She hadn’t ever seen him so furious, not even last night when he’d confronted Sean. Normally he was cool, calm and collected. Ever the guy in control of his environment. But now a muscle in his jaw twitched, and his arms were folded tightly across his chest.
“Can you give us a minute?” he said to Quinn.
“Sure thing.” She got up and left the room, closing the glass door with a soft click.
Neither one of them said anything at first, and Wren had to stop herself from wrenching the clock off the wall and stomping on it until that damn ticking stopped.
“You’re not going in there,” he said, his voice brittle. “It’s too risky.”
“What happens if I don’t? He’ll get away with it. Then he’ll find another girl and do the same thing all over again. It’s not right.”
“I won’t risk your safety for this, Wren. No way in hell.”
“You’re not the one risking my safety. I am. It’s my decision to make, not yours.”
“You’re so…impulsive.” He threw his hands up in the air. “Have you thought this through at all? What if he attacks you like he did last night? What if something goes wrong?”
“I understand there are risks, but I’m willing to take them.” She drew a steadying breath. “I want to help.”
He rubbed his hands over his face, his dark brows knitted together. “Think about yourself for once, Wren. Put yourself first. You don’t have to always be looking out for other people.”
“What else am I going to do?”
Since she’d come to New York, her life had been a crazy ride. But she’d felt so…free. Being with Rhys had allowed her to be comfortable in her skin, to enjoy sex, to not be ashamed of what she wanted to paint. Not only that, she’d finally been able to pick up her brushes again without being paralyzed by fear. She’d painted again because of him.
But Sean Ainslie’s crimes would hang over her head unless she made sure he got his due.
“Maybe do what most people do. Get a job, find something you’re passionate about…someone you’re passionate about.”
“Maybe I’m not like most people.”
Part of her wanted to buy into the fantasy that she could stay in New York. Stay with Rhys. But that wasn’t going to happen.
She owed it to Kylie to finally be a good friend by doing something that would actually help her heal. What she should have done in the first place—be there for her. In person.
Her friend had been right. Wren had run away because it suited her, because she’d wanted distance from her own problems. But now she knew that she had the strength to stand up to the bullies and the liars. If she stood up to Sean and helped to put him away, then she could face the people of Charity Springs. She could return home to the people that needed her, like Kylie and Debbie.
She could be the person who’d done something good, for once.
“Then what are you going to do after this is all done?” he asked.
“I’m going home.”
THE WORDS CUT right into him. Silly him, assuming she’d consider staying in New York.
Staying with him.
After last night he thought things might be different between them. He’d shown her that he believed her, that he listened to her. Cared about her. But apparently that didn’t count for anything.
“You’re going back there?” He ran a hand over his head, trying to tamp down the anger that was rearing up within him. “To that hick town where the people call you a sexual deviant?”
“It’s my home, Rhys.” She blinked at him, her brows furrowed. “I never said I was
