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As she got older, it became necessary to conceal what she knew. Sometimes people lied to hide a truth that hurt. Jane had learned her final lesson about keeping quiet when she was twelve years old. She still remembered her dad sitting on her bed, and telling her that he still loved her and her sister and that even though things didn't work out with their mom, he would come back to see them “all the time.” He had lied to her on all points. He had no intention of coming back. He didn't feel love when he said he loved them, and he wasn't sad at all when he said that he'd miss them. If anything, she imagined he'd felt relief. The burden of a family was too much for his narrow shoulders.

Jane cried for days. Her mom thought it was because she missed her father, but Jane had never felt so powerless and betrayed. Jane's mom had tried to comfort her, and tell her that her dad still loved her, only this time, Jane heard the truth in her mother's words. Her mom continued to believe that her husband had always loved their children exactly as she loved them. Jane realized that many lies protected you, and she would have rather not known that she wasn't exactly a priority with her own father. She and her sister weren't even a blip on his radar. He had left town and never looked back.

Although it was difficult, Jane had concealed a million secrets since then. She still shared pertinent information now and then to protect people she cared about. If she didn't, Sadie would have dated probably fifty percent more jerks, per month. Her experience had shaken any moral certainty she'd once had on the wrongness of lying. She was constantly struggling to find a happy medium between the possibility that a lie could protect, from her certainty that most lies were told precisely to hurt.

On top of it, people still got creeped out if it seemed like she knew for sure if they were lying. So, she implied, she suspected, and she “just had a gut feeling” about certain situations. Sadie had come to rely on this remarkable sense of intuition on many occasions. She often brought new boyfriends around to their apartment when she knew Jane would be there. Without actually asking for Jane's lie-detecting assistance directly, she would always connive a complete debrief
afterwards. Jane was getting tired of finding new ways to tell Sadie that most of the guys she brought home had no intention of dating her past the time it took to have sex with her. Sometimes, it didn't seem to matter to Sadie. But for Jane, the boldness of their lies angered her, and she never felt bad about outing any of them as the worthless jerks that they were.

Now, she had established that Lucien probably wasn't a worthless jerk, but anything beyond that was a mystery. Jane and Lucien sat in silence in the ornate room. He said don't talk, so she wasn't going to talk. Since the creepy guy was more than content to drink his soda and stare at them from across the room, Jane felt bold enough to get a good look at her surroundings. The garage had been large, with enough space for at least four cars, but the van had been the only vehicle parked in there. When they passed through the kitchen, there had been no clutter or odor from cooking food. The marble countertops hadn't seen dirty dishes in some time, if ever. The great room was large and fully furnished, but Jane felt that it wasn't anybody's home. It was traditional with leather chairs, velvet sofas, and dark wood coffee tables with turned legs.

The furniture matched too well; the result of a planned design scheme rather than a collection of things from here and there. There were no ill-conceived tchotchkes on the side tables. This house felt empty, temporary. It bothered Jane. For some reason, she felt more vulnerable knowing that this house probably wasn't significant to whoever snagged her out of the museum parking garage. It was silly to think that murderers may be less inclined to kill you in their own house. Still, it bothered her to think that if she was going to be murdered here, she wouldn't even mess up the guy's favorite couch. He might lose a rental deposit, but he wouldn't be on his hands and knees with club soda and a sponge.

Lucien had edged away from Jane a little bit after their exchange. He felt uncomfortable around her, and gave into the relief of some physical separation. Lucien had seen many things in his life, but he didn't like the prospect of spending time with someone who could tell when he was lying. He had too many secrets to keep. He had to admit that his pride was also a little hurt. Lucien had lied to many people on many occasions, and he'd been able to get away with a lot.
Now, this girl wouldn't let him get away with an assumed name. There had to be a trick to it. She wasn't a psychic. He had met specialists in law enforcement who could be trained to spot a lie, but he had lied to them a number of times without being caught. Either she was really good, or he was slipping. Again, he felt that he needed to overcome the sense of vulnerability that had crept into his head, a place it had never been welcome before. Lucien focused inward and ran through various scenarios that would have led to his latest abduction. He wanted to be prepared for anything.

After about fifteen minutes another man came into the room. This was obviously the man who was in charge, thought Jane. He was dressed in a tailored suit and moved with the self-assurance of someone in control of their surroundings. The large man followed him into the room and kept a respectable distance. Though he was a good four inches shorter than the large man, this man demanded attention. He was maybe fifty years old, but well groomed with a trimmed beard. With a determined gait, he came directly over to where Jane and Lucien were sitting.

“So sorry to keep you waiting, Lucky. I was just speaking with Gerald about your friend. It was an unintended but fortunate turn of events that we could accommodate your guest. A female presence often civilizes business dealings, don't you think?”

Lucien rose calmly, as though they were in the lobby of a busy high rise to close a deal instead of the suspiciously impersonal rental with armed men. “Raleigh, any business you want to do is fine with me. I would appreciate it if we could discuss it in private, though. Jane is not privy to my methods of making money.”

Raleigh cocked his head slightly and curiously looked at Jane. “Well, that simply has to change. You lovebirds shouldn't have any secrets from each other. I think she should know why she's here. Your boyfriend sold me a wonderful painting, Jane. It was the culmination of years of searching and dealing. It also cost several million dollars of my money. Now, another private dealer has offered to sell me the painting. The same painting Jane, not a similar one or one simply by the same artist. He'd heard I'd been looking for it several years ago, which I was, until I bought it from Lucky. So, I am understandably confused as to how I can own this painting and yet have it offered to
me for sale.” Raleigh's tone slipped from polite and conversational to downright pissed near the end of his speech.

“Well, this dealer is obviously offering you a fake, Raleigh.” Lucien used his tone carefully. Raleigh adopted a calm exterior most of the time, but when he was upset he was unpredictable. Too much money and not enough morals made Raleigh capable of crimes much worse than buying black market art.

“It is not so obvious, Lucky. I have dealt with this dealer before and I have dealt with you before. Someone is representing himself falsely. I am a simple businessman at heart, but if you don't deal straight with me, I take it personally. You will accompany me to view this painting that is a ‘fake.' I have an independent authenticator meeting us there. She will decide who is lying to me. If it is you, Jane will be killed slowly in front of you, and then you will be killed just as slowly with those lovely images burning in your mind and Gerald's fists crushing every bone in your body.” Raleigh's black eyes communicated the unwavering certainty that he would discover the truth of the matter by any means possible. He turned on his heel and stalked out of the room before Lucien could protest anymore.

It was clear that further information would not be coming from him. Gerald lagged behind long enough to tell Steven that they would be leaving soon, and then followed quickly after Raleigh. Lucien glared at Steven who continued to lurk in the corner and grin as if he was amused by the preceding conversation. His smile was not friendly, and Lucien imagined that Steven was already anticipating an unpleasant evening for himself and Jane.

At that point, Lucien realized how far gone Raleigh was. In their previous dealings, Raleigh had played the part of rich and eccentric art collector willing to bend a few rules to get what he wanted. Lucien had never seen him use his bodyguards for any other reason than to keep him protected from undesirable attention in sketchy situations. Regardless of the bravado and talk that he'd overheard in the van, tough guys for hire did what they were told. Now, Lucien could see that these men truly were killers, when need be. To keep that from happening, he had to show Raleigh that he was cooperative and not worried about the outcome of their meeting with the authenticator.

True, the painting that he had sold Raleigh was a fake. However, whatever this other dealer was offering him, it was a fake as well.
Lucien was sure of this because the real painting was safe in a vault halfway across the world, and there was no way that it could have been stolen without him knowing about it immediately. He wasn't worried about going with Raleigh, but he was worried that Jane would falter under the present circumstances. Getting your life threatened by people who were obviously capable of murder was difficult the first time it happened. Lucien wasn't overly concerned, but he thought Jane wasn't the type to take it lightly.

In fact, Jane was looking a little green at just that moment. She was feeling worse. Jane had never been threatened like that before, and she didn't like Raleigh's matter of fact take on the situation. After the back and forth between Lucien and Raleigh, she was comforted by the fact that Lucien was sure that Raleigh was mistaken about the new painting. His confidence kept her from losing her cool and freaking out, but just barely. Oddly she felt a little ego boost when Raleigh believed she was Lucien's girlfriend. Maybe they weren't the odd couple that she imagined.

She felt like she was pretending to be someone who she really wished she was. Acting as Lucien's girlfriend could be dangerous in more ways than the obvious. It was something she could get used to, something she could grow attached to. She reminded herself that he was only doing this because it was necessary to protect them both. When this was all over, she would miss the connection to him that she felt now. It was a kindness that he was willing to protect her, but not a romantic gesture. Whatever she thought she wanted from him this morning was just a memory. The real thing was better, but even more unattainable. Something about him was more alive than life. Her life, anyway.

Gerald returned within ten minutes. He led Lucien and Jane to the same garage as before, but this time, there were two black town cars with dark tinted windows waiting. Raleigh was just getting into the closest car and Gerald ushered them into the second car. Raleigh had apparently moved on to other issues; he didn't spare a glance their way. Lucien was led to the front seat beside Steven and Gerald sat in back with Jane.

Gerald made it a point to warn Lucien before they drove away from the strange house. “I'll have a gun in my hand and pointed at your girlfriend if you try anything.”

Jane stiffly looked out the window to distract herself from the gun he was aiming at her. Lucien smiled. Maybe she wanted to pretend that if she didn't see it, the gun didn't exist. No problem there, avoidance was one of his favorite tactics for dealing with undesirable subjects. Lucien didn't bother to look at the gun either, but not out of avoidance. He didn't want to appear nervous. He knew Gerald wasn't squeamish about his job, and looking at the gun wouldn't unload it.

“I'm cooperating because I haven't cheated anyone. There's no reason to overreact.” Lucien looked at Jane and saw that she had slid to the furthest corner of the car to get distance between herself and Gerald. He shot her what he hoped was a reassuring look and deliberately relaxed in the front seat. He didn't want Gerald to get worked up enough to “accidently” shoot anyone. Jane tried to copy Lucien's nonchalance and she almost succeeded until they arrived at a small airstrip about thirty minutes later.

Jane felt her throat closing up in panic. She was okay about complying with this insane plan because she thought it would be over soon, but an airplane indicated that she wasn't going home in the next couple of hours. If ever. Lucien didn't seem as concerned. When they drove onto the tarmac, he didn't blink an eye. Some hero. She suddenly wished that she had managed to get her cell phone from her purse before it disappeared somewhere between the museum and the house.

At that moment Jane hated herself for being a victim. She had always thought that if she were in a situation like this, that she would be able to fight. She would go for the assailant's eyes or nuts. That was what her freshman dorm resident advisor had told her about preventing rape. When the time came for her to put this sound advice into action, she had politely declined their invitation and been promptly knocked out. Consequently, she had woken up in the prototypical “bad guy van” with her hands and feet tied up and no hope of escape.

She replayed the events from the parking garage in her mind and wished she had run faster, or picked up on the danger she was in more quickly than she did. It reminded her of a recurring nightmare
she had where she had fallen in the middle of a road and was trying to crawl to the other side before an oncoming car hit her, except that her arms and legs wouldn't respond, she moved too slowly and even her scream was silent. That nightmare car was coming for her again, and again she was unable to get out of the way. If she got on that plane, she had a sinking feeling she would not make it back home.

7

CICERO WRESTLED WITH HIS OWN STUBBORNNESS
. He had chastised Dani for being too intrusive, but now he was considering her point of view. Anxiety was contagious. He still had Lucien's laptop open on the library desk. Lucien kept his daily schedule in a clearly marked file on his desktop. He went to the bar cart in the corner of the room and poured a whiskey.