police,” he said again, his voice gentle. “See what the chief says.”
She remembered the smooth voice over the phone. “He’s your brother. He’ll say whatever you want him to.”
Aleksy shook his head. “Jarek’s one of the good guys. He’ll do whatever he thinks he has to to protect you.”
Police chief Jarek Denko was like his voice, polite, controlled and serious. He arrived within ten minutes of Faye’s call. A female officer, lean and graceful as a greyhound on a leash, stalked beside him. Aleksy went down the steps to meet them.
Faye watched from the porch as they communicated in terse phrases and unspoken signals, as foreign to her as if they really were the animals they resembled. Sniff, sniff, wag, wag, growl. A bubble of amusement rose in her throat.
And then they turned in a pack to face her and she swallowed hard.
“Miss Harper?” The chief of police was a more compact version of his brother, equally intense and almost ten years older. Aleksy’s eyes were dark as coffee. Jarek’s were light as frost. “I’m Jarek Denko. We spoke on the phone.”
It was stupid to feel breathless. “Yes, I—I know.”
He smiled Aleksy’s smile, with more understanding and less edge. She wasn’t reassured, but she caught herself smiling back. “Do you mind if we sit down?”
“Oh. No. Please.” She retreated to the living room and dropped into a chair, clasping her hands tightly in her lap.
The chief sat forward on Aunt Eileen’s comfortable, ugly couch, his notebook balanced on his knee. Aleksy propped against the fireplace, his hands in his pockets and his eyes on her face.
Faye straightened her spine. Ridiculous to feel as if she were a troublemaker called to the principal’s office. But she did.
She hadn’t done anything wrong, she reminded herself. But it didn’t matter. She hadn’t been wrong to recommend Jamal for an art scholarship, either, and she’d still had to face a reprimand from the principal.
“Just a few routine questions,” Jarek said. “Baker, why don’t you see what that door will tell us.”
The young female officer sprang to the sliding doors and pulled out a flashlight. Faye watched as she angled the beam one way and another.
“Latents?” Aleksy asked.
Officer Baker, her long, dark hair pulled back smoothly from her narrow face, looked to her chief, clearly waiting for his command.
“Dust it,” Jarek ordered. “Now, Miss Harper…”
Faye did her best to answer his questions, trying to ignore the young woman shaking fine black powder off a fat black brush all over her aunt’s door frame, and Aleksy, alive and restless by the fireplace.
“And that’s when you went to find Alex?” Jarek prompted.
“Yes,” Faye said. “I was—just a little nervous.”
Not nervous, she thought miserably. Cowardly.
“Not nervous,” Aleksy corrected her. “Smart.”
Jarek turned his head and regarded his brother. “And what were you doing on Miss Harper’s property?”
“Fishing.”
“Do you have a license?”
Aleksy straightened away from the mantel. “What?”
“A license,” Jarek repeated, deadpan. “To fish.”
“Bite me,” Aleksy said.
Jarek raised an eyebrow. “Get one.”
“Jare, you know I’m not after—” He looked at Baker and stopped.
“As long as you’re here, you’ll do everything by the book,” Jarek said. “Everything. You got me?”
They would make an interesting study, Faye thought. Two brothers stamped with the same harsh Slavic cheekbones and passionate Slavic mouths. One all hot energy, one all cool control. In her mind, she began to draw them.
“I’ll see what I can do,” Aleksy said.
“That’s what worries me,” Jarek murmured.
Aleksy grinned. “Can you run the prints?”
Jarek looked at Baker. The young woman shook her head. “No prints,” Jarek said. “Sorry, Miss Harper. We’ll keep an eye out, but unless they try again, it’s unlikely we’ll know who broke in.”
He spoke to her. But Faye thought his words were meant for Aleksy.
“I understand,” she said. “Thank you for coming.”
Jarek stood, tucking his notebook away. “Anytime. Don’t let this spoil your vacation. You have a nice place here.”
“It’s my aunt’s,” she said, compelled to qualify. To apologize. To explain, following the pattern she’d been forced into since her disastrous error of judgment three miserable months ago. “I’m only borrowing it for the summer.”
“I know. To paint, you said.” He gestured to the sheets of paper tacked to the display board and stacked on the table. “This your work?”
She felt compelled to apologize for that, too. “In progress.”
Aleksy strolled over from his post by the fireplace. “What are you working on now?”
“That wet-in-wet of the boat at dawn. It’s not very good yet.”
“What’s a—” He stopped himself. “Show me.”
Impatiently she stepped to the table. “I only started it this morn—” She broke off.
Aleksy’s eyes narrowed. “What?”
Dumbfounded, she stared at the blank spot in the center of her work space. “It’s gone.”
Jarek withdrew the notebook from his breast pocket. “Your painting?”
Aleksy’s sharp gaze swept the table. “What else is missing?”
“Nothing. That is— The photographs,” she said uncertainly. “I had an entire roll developed yesterday. Right here.”
The two brothers exchanged glances.
“Bingo,” said Aleksy.
“Do you remember the subject of the photographs, Miss Harper?” Jarek asked.
She ran a hand through her hair. “Not really. I didn’t take any one subject,” she explained. “I like to get different images on film. I do field sketches, of course, but you can get so much more detail with photographs. Rocks, water, interesting vegetation…”
