Page 1 of The Saint

CHAPTER ONE

Arlington, Virginia

Rushing footsteps and panicked voices pulled Amelia Stone awake. In the upstairs guest bedroom of her sister’s house, she pinched her eyes shut as though she could force herself back to sleep. Rain pattered on the windows like fall-inspired white noise. Just as she pulled the thick comforter up to her chin, drifting back to sleep, the sounds from the first floor wafted into her room again.Worried voices? Fast-moving feet?

She propped herself on her elbows and squinted through the dark room. It was barely illuminated by an overcast night and a crack of dim light that poured through the ajar door. She’d watched a cheesy horror movie with her sister and brother-in-law before bed, and maybe that was why she heard—or thought she heard—voices from downstairs. Any scary movie worth its salt started with pandemonium at home.

Amelia sat up in bed. The sleep-soaked cobwebs in her mind slowly faded. Hailey and Jonathan’s voices were clearer. Though she couldn’t make out the words, the muffled sentiments rang out as urgent and problematic.

She crept out of bed, pulled a sweatshirt over her shorts-and-shirt pajama set, and opened the door an inch. Even at their noisiest, Hailey and Jonathan Dumont were reserved and quiet.

“Hails?” Amelia stepped into the hallway and padded barefoot to the top of the staircase.Are they fighting?She couldn’t fathom that. “Guys, is everything okay?”

No answer came. A shiver ran down Amelia’s spine and up her bare legs.

The house was a small colonial in a nice neighborhood. They’d converted the first floor from a traditional layout to an open concept. Their shared office space was the only closed-offarea. That Amelia suddenly couldn’t hear them was as worrying as their voices had been a moment before.

Amelia perched at the top of the stairs and couldn’t understand why the lights were out if Hailey and Jonathan were up and active. “Hailey?”

The house was quiet again. Amelia couldn’t see either of them from her vantage point at the top of the stairs and didn’t want to butt in if they were arguing. But they never argued, and something about their tone was unnerving. They weren’t angry or frustrated. Were they anxious? Frightened?

She heard them again. Amelia crept down a few stairs and pinpointed them in their office, but she couldn’t make out the conversation—and she shouldn’t eavesdrop. But she couldn’t help it and tiptoed farther down.

“…they know…”

“…in danger… assets…”

“…missing… help…”

Jonathan’s rushed steps approached from the home office. “They know, Hailey. And if they do, we’re in trouble.”

Amelia scurried up to the middle of the staircase. She bit her lip then faced the unavoidable. “Is everything okay?”

Jonathan stopped short at the base of the stairs. He was almost panting and ran a hand over his face as though trying to get his act together. It didn’t help. “You’re awake.” He cast a furtive glance out the slender glass panes framing the double doors of their home entrance.

She sank onto her bottom and held onto the banister. “What’s wrong?”

If not for her sister and brother-in-law whisper-panicking in the middle of the night, Amelia would’ve thought they were debating the plot points of the night’s movie. She’d never seen Jonathan anything but composed. Affable and smart, herbrother-in-law was the poster child for calm, cool, and collected—just like Hailey.

“Jonathan,what’s wrong?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes as though answers to the unexplained problem were painted on the insides of his lids. The weight of the world rested on his shoulders. For every second he didn’t answer, a cavernous, concrete-lined pit at the bottom of Amelia’s stomach grew heavier.

Finally, Jonathan clipped, “We’ve got to get her out of here.”

“Me?”

Hailey walked across the beautiful living room decorated with paintings and sculptures they’d brought home from work trips abroad. She moved to her husband’s side. Unfamiliar worry lines creased her forehead, and she bit her bottom lip much like Amelia was doing. Their mannerisms were quite similar, though not their personalities. Hailey was just as unflappable as Jonathan. If she’d had an anxious moment in her life, her sister had known how to channel that emotion into a productive one—not Amelia. When nerves and anxiety hit, Amelia felt it then buried it. She wore it heavy across her chest like a secret cloak. She might get the job done, but it wasn’t pretty.

“It could be a false alarm.” Hailey checked the slender window on the front door just as her husband had. The tense lines that had creased across Hailey’s forehead deepened, belying that hope.

Jonathan’s lips pulled down. “How did they let this happen? We’ve been so careful.”

“Powerful people with infinite resources,” Hailey mumbled. “It’s always been a risk.”

Amelia tried to understand the cryptic conversation. Jonathan and Hailey were two of the quietest people Ameliahad ever known. Hailey was a professor of art history. Jonathan was a researcher for high-end auction houses. They were smart, reserved, and not prone to hyperbole.

Maybe one of Jonathan’s high-end buyers was unhappy with a purchase. Amelia had heard them discuss multimillion-dollar transactions. She could appreciate buyer’s remorse after dropping as much as the annual budget of a small town on a single piece of artwork. “You two are freaking me out.”

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