Page 143 of Family Affair
She dragged a breath in. “You sound like you suspected me of hiding it.”
“I didn’t suspect. I knew.”
Of all the things Cade could have said to her, this one had never entered her mind.
She scoffed. “No, you didn’t.”
“Ross told me how you saw the Pollock at La Vedova. I shared it with Willis who then checked the old files once more, and found Rosa’s name in them. She had been questioned during Frank’s forgery investigation alongside Abe Collins. So Willis hoofed it to La Vedova and applied pressure to Rosa, you know how Willis is. She rolled. She admitted accepting the Pollock drawing from Ward, and then pushing it on you to save her ass.”
Coco laughed. It was too bizarre of a development. “Puzzle pieces and wild card players. And then you lose control of the game.”
Cade made an impatient motion with his hand. “Yes, and I tried to teach you this lesson before. I hoped you had the sense to simply get rid of the Pollock and end this part of the game. What if Smirnoff had found it in your home? Sweet Jesus, I can’t even… You would've been locked up now!”
“Don’t yell, nothing happened. They didn’t find it.”
He took a step back. “Out of curiosity, where did you hide it?”
“At the library.”
He blinked once. “Come again?”
“My mother works at a public library, you know that. She took it with her to work and stashed the drawing in the archives for a time. Hidden in plain view, very safe.”
“Youmother’sin on that?”
“She saw the drawing, and I had to tell her. Besides, I couldn't have done without her help.”
He scraped both palms over his unshaven face, and the bristles loudly rasped over the skin of his hands. “I can’t believe it. You’re crazy, you and your helpful mother. You should have destroyed it.”
His words piqued her. “It’s art. I can’t destroy it, even though I thought about it. And then I thought, this drawing can be useful. It’s a catalyst. An ace up our sleeve.”
“Wow, stop right there.” He actually put out a hand as if warding off a bad spirit. “Don’t go any farther.”
“Listen, no, listen to me,” she batted his hand down. “Ward Williamson manipulated what others say and do with the help of this Pollock drawing, with some degree of success.”
“Yes, and let’s not forget what happened to him.”
“Well, maybe it’s because his motives weren’t very pure,” Coco had to give him that. “If we leak that the Pollock drawing still exists, like Ward did, then whoever killed Ward will take the bait. They will want to possess it. This drawing will lead us to the real killer.”
Coco pushed the dresser drawer shut for emphasis, but overestimated the force of her push. It snapped closed with a loud clunk, shaking the entire dresser. The manila envelope fell to the floor, and Frank’s portrait that she had so lovingly created slid out.
Cade’s gaze latched on it. Slowly, he bent down to pick it up, looking at her work. Like clouds before the storm, angry energy gathered around him, charging the air. The hairs on Coco’s nape stood up.
He raised his gaze incinerating her on the spot with the force of his liquid fury. Behind it, a haunted desperation lurked in the depths of his wild eyes.
“You drew that fucker Frank.”
She nodded.
As if it were burning his fingers, he threw the portrait on the bed.
“Why?” he rasped.
“He deserves to have someone who cares,” she rasped back. She had never meant to say it to him, but once she started, she was choking on the words that demanded to get out. “Someone who remembers only the good parts, his art. He died way too young, and I can’t get past the unfairness of it. I wonder what kind of man he would have become, what kind of artist. He was so talented.”
Cade’s head snapped back as if she slapped him. “His talent meant nothing, Coco,” he said hoarsely. “He never did anything worthwhile with it.”
The raw vehemence in Cade’s voice pinched Coco’s heart. Most families remembered their dead fondly, even those that had been difficult to live with, but Frank seemed to be denied even this small concession of posthumous love.
