“Remember to ask for the job, Lyndsay.”
She smiled in spite of herself. “Ten-four, Dad. And say hi to Mom for me.”
At two minutes to the hour, she found her conference room. It seemed that she was the last person they were waiting for, and as she sat, she lifted her chin higher and glanced surreptitiously around.
She was the only woman at the meeting, and she assumed that meant she was the only woman on the task force. Around the table she recognized Commander Harris, the imposing and serious man in charge of the task force as well as the superior who’d initially selected and interviewed her for the assignment.
Pete—her backup partner—caught her gaze and smiled broadly. Beside Pete were two other men that Lyndsay didn’t recognize. Commander Harris introduced them as Wesley and Simon. Wesley was a young, nerdy-looking camera technician. Simon was middle-aged and fierce, with a thick growth of scruffy beard and a tattoo showing on his neck above the collar of his dress shirt. He looked as if he’d be more at home on a drug enforcement or organized crime undercover task force. Lyndsay knew that a burglary task force was tame compared to operations that the state police were known for. Frankly, she was glad for this one. She’d spent her time at the gun range and at the gym for martial arts class, and she was confident of her skills. But she’d rather not be undercover with violent people if she could help it.
“Pete has taken the information you gathered from your surveillance, Officer Fairfax,” Commander Harris was saying, “and he was able to ascertain that none of the principals were the likely perpetrators of the burglaries.”
Lyndsay nodded. That was good news—she’d been hoping that none of her new friends were involved in anything illegal. She had suspected that was the case, but that Pete had confirmed it made her breathe easier.
“Furthermore, I’m told that nothing out of the ordinary occurred to break your cover. Is that the case, Officer Fairfax?” Commander Harris asked her.
“No, nothing out of the ordinary happened,” she confirmed. Frankly, the assignment had been easier than she’d thought. She hadn’t even had to lie much, really, because it was true she’d been trained as an interior designer. Sort of, if one year of design school counted.
“You did good work,” Commander Harris said. Pete gave her a quick smile. Wesley blinked, but truthfully, he looked greener than she did. Simon didn’t change his expression—he still looked bored by the whole thing.
Licking her lips, she shifted in her seat, wondering if she should break in and ask questions. She was aching for a broader view of the case.
“Last night we had another burglary ten miles up the coast,” Commander Harris said, his tone grim. “Our fifth burglary since February. Same MO. Paintings and jewelry stolen, and a safe cracked and emptied.”
“Any signs of forced entry?” Pete asked.
“None. The homeowner had a surveillance system, but nothing registered as out of the ordinary. The alarm never triggered. And there was no evidence of forced windows or doors.”
Simon sat up taller in his seat. “Sounds like an inside job.”
“We’re considering that possibility,” Commander Harris replied. “I’d like you to check it out, Simon. The theft has been kept from the police blotter. There’s no media attention. These paintings were uninsured, so there will be no outside interference.”
Simon nodded. “I’m on it.”
Lyndsay shifted in her seat. Obviously, paintings were an important part of the common thread. She thought of Pete’s request. The Goldricks had indeed displayed one valuable oil painting—a modern landscape, which she’d dutifully noted to Pete. She hadn’t told him yet, but within the MacLaine home there were two huge oil paintings over the congressman’s fireplace, but she didn’t know if the paintings were important or valuable. They were both female nudes, of the same model. To Lyndsay’s mind, the congressman’s private possessions weren’t her business, and she’d known better than to offer her opinion. But, if all the thefts had been of paintings... Maybe she should say something.
I want to be a detective, she thought. Good detectives always get to the facts. She cleared her throat. “Do all of the burglaries to date involve stolen paintings?” she asked. “Sir,” she remembered to add.
Commander Harris glanced at her. “Yes. Cut from their frames.”
“Like a museum heist,” she blurted.
“A lot easier than that,” Simon muttered. “These homes aren’t the fortresses that museums are.”
“And the safes,” Wesley added. The team was really solidifying now. “Don’t forget the haul from the safes.”
“How much is that estimated to be?” she asked politely.
“From what we’re being told, tens of thousands in cash,” Commander Harris replied.
“Don’t know if I believe that.” Simon leaned back cynically and clasped his hands behind his neck. “Has to be a lot more. What business are these new vics in?”
Lyndsay turned to Commander Harris because she was curious about the answer, too. He seemed to be hesitating. All she knew about the MacLaines was that Paul MacLaine, recently retired as congressman, now worked part-time as a political lobbyist. Technically, he was a former congressman, but nobody around Wallis Point referred to him thus. Paul was quite wealthy. He hadn’t started out that way, but he had made money during the past decade by investing wisely. That was the scoop Andy had told her.
“All five burglaries are from private homes on the seacoast. No one was home during the burglaries, although three of the homes have live-in staff who weren’t on the premises at the time.”
The MacLaines didn’t have live-in staff. During her four days alone in the house, she’d seen and heard nothing suspicious. When she’d left the house yesterday, the two paintings were intact over the fireplace, and the wall safe behind the smaller of the two paintings was undisturbed.
“Line of business of the owners?” Simon pressed.
“Private businesspeople, as were the owners of the other four homes,” Commander Harris replied. “Nothing nefarious involved that we can see.”
“Or they wouldn’t have come to us for help,” Wesley pointed out.
“How did the task force start?” Lyndsay asked. Simon rolled his eyes at her question. She swallowed, but glanced to Commander Harris. “If you don’t mind my asking, sir, I’m unaware of the reasons for the formation and what our broader scope is.”
“You may ask all you want, Officer. You’ve played an important part thus far—and you will be playing a key part in the future.”
“Excellent.” She sat back in her chair.
“Pete, why don’t you fill in Officer Fairfax—Lyndsay—as to the history of our task force. Wesley, as well.”
“The first burglary occurred five weeks ago,” Pete said, leaning forward, his fingers interlaced. “I was a detective on the first case. When the second burglary occurred a week later, I noticed the similarities. About the time of the third similar burglary, Congressman MacLaine notified the governor.” Here, he glanced to Commander Harris.
Commander Harris took up the narrative. “The congressman was concerned that a more unified, centralized and elevated effort be formed, across agencies, to apprehend the burglars. So as of a week ago, we have a task force. The expense is not inconsiderable, and each of you will have clear, focused duties, which will continue for no longer than two weeks. At