A Priceless Find

Mrs. Sinclair patted her grandson’s arm. A subtle sign of admonition perhaps?

“Joel can get very protective of the gallery...and me. So, Detective Eldridge, can I interest you in any of our works of art?”

“You’d be the third one to try,” Sam said with a smile. “And the one most likely to succeed, but no. I came more out of general interest today.”

Activity in another part of the room had all three of them turning in that direction, and Sam guessed the auction was about to begin. It was time for him to go—before an innocent scratch of his head ended up costing him a year’s salary for something he didn’t need or want. He thanked both Sinclairs and started to navigate through the crowd toward the door.

He’d ascertained that the gallery would be a viable target, if his theory held. Whether related or not, his gut told him not to trust Joel Sinclair. The grandmother seemed nice enough, but there was something about Joel that rubbed him the wrong way.

Chelsea came to mind, and he nearly laughed at himself.

No, it wasn’t because Sinclair had a relationship with Chelsea.

Sam admitted to a certain fascination with her, but she wasn’t available and Sam never poached.

Still, he couldn’t resist pausing before he left the room to search her out. She was near the podium he assumed the auctioneer would use, in animated discussion with another young woman. When she glanced in his direction and smiled, he returned her smile and waved goodbye.

Wondering if he’d see her again, he astonished himself for the second time that evening with how much he wanted to.

Business. He had to focus on business, he reminded himself. And he had the answer to his question, he thought, as he pulled away from the curb a short while later. The gallery housed valuable art. The most expensive pieces on display far exceeded the highest-priced items in the jewelry store. But while jewelry and watches could be easily fenced, priceless and readily identifiable works of art could not. Private collectors with immense wealth, a disregard for the law and secret collections would be the only potential purchasers of stolen art, in Sam’s opinion. He presumed that was a very limited group.

Since he was here, he’d take a drive down Willowbrook Avenue to see if there were any other probable targets for a major heist.

As soon as the thought occurred to him, he chuckled.

Major heist and the quaint, peaceful little town of Camden Falls was a contradiction in terms. He wondered if he was looking for something big he could sink his teeth into, because—admittedly—the job here didn’t present the challenges that being a cop in one of the seedier areas of Boston had. And without a personal life to speak of, the job was all he had, he mused as he drove slowly by a gift shop and a pet food store, neither of which he considered a viable target.

But then peaceful and crime free were two of the reasons he and Katherine had decided to relocate to Camden Falls when they’d learned Katherine was pregnant. They’d also wanted a strong sense of community, and Camden Falls offered that, too. They’d been ecstatic at the prospect of raising a family here.

Well, that didn’t turn out as planned, Sam thought ruefully as he passed a ladies’ clothing boutique and a shoe store. And the big city had lured Katherine back to reestablish her career as a financial planner, while he’d stayed right here in Camden Falls, consumed with grief. They hadn’t spoken since the divorce.

With their son, Nicolas, gone, there hadn’t been any reason.

By the time Sam reached the end of the retail section of Willowbrook Avenue, he’d narrowed potential targets down to the Sinclair Gallery and an electronics store—if his theory was correct. He would’ve put the gallery at the top of the list, except for the challenge of fencing stolen works of art. So, the jewelry store struck him as the best of the possibilities, after all. And that negated his response-time-testing theory.

Maybe he was grasping at straws.

This wasn’t Boston.

He thought about the people he’d met that evening and wondered if any of them could have been responsible for the jewelry store robbery.

Sam considered Joel Sinclair and his lack of passion for the business. He wondered how much Joel made from the gallery in comparison with his grandmother. Sam’s thoughts returned to Chelsea Owens as he took a right onto Cedar Lane to head home. There was an irresistible quality to the quirky, upbeat, high-spirited young woman. But was his interest professional? Was he drawn to her because his instincts told him she might have a connection to the robbery next door? Or was the attraction personal?

He had to be overtired if he was thinking along either of those lines.

She wasn’t his type. He wasn’t interested in a relationship, even if she was. And she wasn’t available, anyway.

He’d get a good night’s sleep and talk his theory through with Colin on Monday.

But try as he might, he couldn’t get Chelsea out of his thoughts.

CHAPTER FIVE (#u6ed0ef72-f91a-52cd-b0cb-4c5fe05b5c6f)

CHELSEA SAID GOODBYE to Sharon Robinson, the third-grade teacher at Camden Falls Public School, and the kids in her class for whom she’d conducted a tour of the gallery that morning. Chelsea loved kids and loved teaching them about art. Their insatiable curiosity and the way they saw everything so differently from adults never ceased to amaze and inspire her. She was always more than willing to organize and run the tours, but that didn’t mean the kids’ limitless energy didn’t take a lot out of her.

Still, when the time was right, she wanted to have kids. A number of them.

She’d have to work on her stamina, though, she decided.

Chelsea was glad the showroom was empty so she could have a well-earned lunch break. Deborah was off today, but Tina could keep an eye on things and Joel was due back from the Nightingale estate auction anytime now. Then he could attend to any walk-ins, although that wasn’t his favorite task.

Grabbing her sandwich, a bottle of water from the fridge in the lunchroom and one of the fashion magazines Tina habitually left on the counter, she sank down in a chair. She flipped the magazine open to a random page and had barely unwrapped her sandwich when she heard footsteps in the corridor. She glanced up to see Joel lean against the doorjamb. He’d crossed his legs at the ankles and tucked his left hand in his pants pocket.

It was his GQ look, as Chelsea used to think of it. She knew it to be contrived.

“How was the tour?” he asked.

Chelsea smiled. “Great kids. As entertaining as always.”

“Any damage?”

“Oh, Joel! Can’t you forget about that one isolated incident?” She didn’t bother to hide her irritation. “That incident was more than a year ago, and you make it sound as if it was malicious. The poor kid tripped on his shoelace and, thankfully, fell against a promotional banner rather than a display case or stand. There was no harm done. And to answer your question, no, there was no damage today.”

His glower persisted and caused her to look away.

“I’m sorry. That was unwarranted,” he finally conceded, drawing her gaze back to his. “The children’s program is important to my grandmother and therefore the gallery. You’ve always been terrific with the kids. And since you handle it, I don’t have to be involved. So, I’ll apologize again.”

“Apology accepted.” As far as Chelsea was concerned, the discussion was over. She finished unwrapping her sandwich, but she could feel Joel’s eyes on her and looked up again. The expression on his face was inscrutable and made her uncomfortable. Looking down, she took a bite of her sandwich.

“Chels, have dinner with me tonight.”

The invitation, unexpected and spoken so softly, had her glancing at him with astonishment. It reminded her of his odd behavior the evening of the exhibit and auction, and made her wonder what was going through his mind.

Joel was still leaning casually against the doorjamb, his blond hair tousled, a playful smile spread across his face. The dimple she’d once found so sexy flickered on his right cheek.

“C’mon, Chels,” he said when she hesitated. “For old times’ sake. What do you say?”

For a moment—just one moment—she was tempted to say yes. The boyish grin had always drawn her in and she hadn’t been on a date since...well, since she and Joel had stopped seeing each other. But then she thought about some of the reasons she’d broken it off with him.

At first, he’d made her feel special. But by the end of their relationship, she felt he’d lost interest in her. There always seemed to be other priorities, and she’d begun to feel like an obligation.

Chelsea considered herself relatively easygoing and flexible, but she couldn’t be in a relationship in which she wasn’t valued.

Remembering how it had been between them when they’d first started dating, she felt a twinge of sadness over what they’d lost, but was careful not to let it show. She didn’t want to inadvertently encourage him. “Sorry, Joel. I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

He straightened. “Have it your way.”

She wasn’t sure if it was disappointment or anger that sparked in his eyes before he turned and stalked away.