Release (31 page)

Just
then, Anthony Russo entered through the back door into the kitchen.

He
walked over, smiling.  “Hey, sweet girl.  It’s good to see you,” he
said giving her a huge hug.  He was a big Italian bear of a man, and he
was perfect for her mother.

“Did
you two have a good talk?”

Ryann
looked at her mom.  “The best.  One that needed to be had.” 
Ryann flashed back to Jeremy saying the same thing about the conversation he’d
had with his own mom.

She
needed to get back to the City.

“I’m
sorry for the short visit, Tone, but I gotta get back.”

“Oh,
ok.  But hey, real quick.  I was going to ask you…you were at the
gala last night, right?  Your mom mentioned it last night before she left
to get you.  You were at the Manhattan Institute for Art and Design?”

“Yeah. 
Why?”

“I
just got the paper.  The Mackenzie Renault painting that was on display
there?  It was stolen.”

…..

Ryann
had finally turned her phone back on.  The entire train ride back to
Manhattan, Ryann listened to all of her messages and read all of her
texts.  Except for one from Ayanna asking her if she had heard about the
painting, they were all from Jeremy.

The
first voicemail came just after she ran from him, at 8:03.

“Ryann!
God…Please answer your phone.  Whatever you thought you saw, wasn’t what
you thought.  Please call me, baby.  Please.”

She
winced.  He sounded frantic, and she could hear the hum of voices from
people at the gala in the background.

The
next one came in at 8:13.

“Ryann,
my mom said…they all said they saw you crying and that you ran out with
Armand.”
  He paused. 
“Please, Ryann.  We’re all worried
about you.  Let me explain.  Please call me.”

He
was begging.  Tears ran down her cheeks.  Would he be begging if he
was going to end it with her?  Would he care about explaining
things?  She was so afraid to hope.

The
third one came in at 8:40.

“Ryann,
I’m at your place.  Where are you?  George said you came in with
Armand, but that he left, and that you left after that.  Please call
me.  I’m really worried.  Where are you?  Did you go to
Ayanna’s?  Please, just be careful, ok?”
He paused and took a
steadying breath.
“Fuck.”

She
was openly crying at this point.  She needed to see him.  She didn’t
want their first talk to be on the phone, but she needed to set up a time to
talk to him.

He
had texted her at 10.

JM: 
I get that ur angry b/c of what u thought u saw, but could u pls call me, or
text?  I want to know that ur safe.

Another
at 11.

JM: 
I’m really worried, Ryann.  Won’t u just text me to tell me ur ok?

Another
at midnight.

JM:
 I’m home thinking of u.  Hoping that ur safe.  U can
call/text at any time, baby.  I have the phone by me.

There
were two more messages that came in that morning.  One was a voicemail at
six, the other was a text moments before she turned on her phone at 7:15.

“Ryann,
I’m serious now.  You really need to call me.  Something’s happened
and you have to tell me where you are.  You need to call me.”

He
had sounded worried.  She assumed it was about the painting.

His
text just cut to the chase.

JM: 
FUCKING CALL ME, RYANN!!!

That
was at 7:10.  It was now 7:30, and she’d probably get to her apartment
between 9 and 9:30.

There
was a part of her that wanted to make him sweat a little longer.  But the
part that loved him told her to text him to put his mind at ease.  He was
probably going crazy with the stolen painting.  Knowing that the Institute
was responsible for the security of it while it was in their possession, made her
heart hurt for him and his family.  She could only imagine how this would
impact them and the Institute’s reputation.

Her
stomach was cramped with tension, exhaustion, and pain hearing his voice and
reading his texts.  She decided to text him, so that he knew she was
ok.  Then she’d meet up with him later when she got home.  He
probably had his hands full with the painting anyway.

She
pulled up his last text and responded.

RT: 
I’m ok.  I’ll be home soon.  I heard about the painting. 
I’ll call u when I’m home.  Turning off my phone now.
  

His
responding text came back almost immediately.

JM: 
Where the fuck have u been?!  I can’t call rt now, but don’t talk to
anyone until u see me.  What time will u be home?  I’ll meet u
there.  Don’t turn off ur phone!

She
swallowed.

RT: 
I’ll call u when I get there.

JM: 
Don’t talk to anyone, Ryann.  Call me as soon as u get home.

Her
mind was racing.  What the hell was that all about?  He didn’t want
her to talk to anyone so he could get his story straight?  She leaned back
in exhaustion, and took a deep breath.  She’d find out soon enough.

…..

She
arrived to her apartment building at a little after nine, and when she saw
George at the door, he started, and said, “Ms. Thornton.  How are you?” he
asked in a worried tone.

“Hi,
George.  I’m fine.  Thanks for asking,” she smiled, weary.

She
entered the foyer, and immediately saw Jeremy standing off to the side talking
to a man.  He was still dressed in his tux, sans jacket and tie.  He
looked disheveled, his dark hair standing on end as if he’d been running his
fingers through it all night long.  He had a good amount of scruff on his
face, and she imagined he hadn’t yet been to bed.

Her
heart skipped a beat.  He looked good enough to eat.  What the hell
was he doing there? 

He
turned and saw her, and the relief in his intense green eyes was palpable,
followed quickly by determination.

His
stride was quick and sure as he met her at the door, and grabbed her, wrapping
his arms tightly around her.   She could feel a slight tremor in his
body.

“God,
you had me scared to death, Ryann.  Don’t
ever
do that to me
again,” he said into her ear through gritted teeth.  She remained stiff in
his arms, not returning the hug, but relishing the feel of him, the smell of
him.

He
continued talking in a low voice.  “Don’t say a word.  I’ve called my
lawyer, and he’s on his way, but it might be awhile before he gets here. 
I’m not leaving your side,” he said, his voice laced with resolve.

He
released her, but stayed close.  She looked up in confusion.

“What
the hell are you tal…”she began.

“Ms.
Thornton?  Ryann Thornton?”

Ryann
turned to see the man who had been talking to Jeremy.  He looked to be in
his late 20’s, was tall, and looked vaguely familiar but she couldn’t place
him.  He was handsome, and had dark hair and eyes. 

“Yes?”

“I’m
Detective Michael Callahan, with the NYPD.  I’d like to ask you some
questions about your whereabouts last night.”

Callahan? 
A light bulb went off in her head.  She remembered meeting him briefly at
the Academy graduation ceremony two summers ago.  “Are you Robbie’s
brother?”

He
smirked, looking slightly sheepish.  “Yes.”

Another
light bulb went off.  She looked at Jeremy, his jaw clenched as if it was
about to break.  “Don’t say anything, Ryann.  Wait for my attorney to
get here.”

“He’s
your cousin.”

“Yes,
he is.  Much to my annoyance at the moment,” Jeremy muttered dryly. 
“No more talking now, Ryann.”

“What’s
this about?” she asked, becoming agitated.

Jeremy
turned to her in exasperation. “Ryann, we’ll talk about it when my attorney
gets here.  Let’s get you up to your apartment.”  He turned to
Robbie’s brother.  “There’s no need to take her to the station,
Mike.  We’ll just wait here for my lawyer.  He should be here soon,
then all of this will be cleared up.”

Just
then, she heard people laughing at the entrance as they walked into the foyer. 
It was Jonathan and Emily.  They saw her and waved, walking the short
distance over.

“Hey,
Ry.  Jeremy.”  Then he turned back to Ryann.  “Hey, I heard
about the painting.  It’s all over the news.  Were you there at the
gala last night?” Jonathan asked.

Ryann
started to answer, but Jeremy interrupted.  “She can’t talk about that
right now.  Mike, let’s get her up to the apartment.  Please.”

“What’s
going on?  You ok?” Jonathan asked her, showing concern.  Emily’s
petite form perked up next to him.

Ryann
was beginning to think this had to do with the painting, but she had no idea
why anyone would think she would know anything.  Before Jeremy could stop
her, she shook her head in confusion, and said under her breath, “Apparently, I
need a lawyer.”

Emily
stepped forward.  “I’m happy to help.”  She was dressed in fitted
jeans, t-shirt and flip flops, with her blonde hair in a messy topknot, and her
stylish glasses highlighting her pretty almond shaped brown eyes.  Ryann
had completely forgotten she was an attorney.  She looked like a studious
co-ed.

Emily
turned to Jeremy’s cousin and said, “My name’s Emily White.  I’m an
attorney, and I’ll be representing Ms. Thornton.  Let’s take this to a
more private setting, ok?  I’m going to need a moment to confer with her,
but I’ll need to know what this is about first.  Is she being charged with
something?”

Detective
Mike Callahan gave Emily an obvious once over with his eyes, then cleared his
throat.  “She’s been accused of having something to do with the stolen Mackenzie
Renault painting.”  

…..

Ryann
sat on her sofa, stunned.  When she was still down in the foyer and
Detective Callahan had told her she had basically been accused of stealing the
painting, she couldn’t help herself.  She had been overcome with a fit of
giggles, and burst out, “What?!”

Both
Emily and Jeremy had shouted at the same time, “Don’t talk!”

Again,
Ryann couldn’t seem to control herself.  Perhaps it was the
exhaustion.  Perhaps it was the emotion still so close to the
surface.  Whatever it was, she had continued laughing, and said, “That’s
ri
dic
ulous!”

Emily
had taken her arm, gently but firmly, and said to the men, “I’ll take Ryann up
to her apartment in the elevator first.  Alone.  We need to
talk.  You all can follow us up after.”

Jeremy
had attempted to go with them, but Ryann had said no, the pain still raw from
the night before.  He’d looked hurt, but he’d backed down, and stayed back
with the men. 

While
in the elevator, Emily riddled her with questions, and Ryann answered every
single one.  She’d told her that she’d been at her mom’s all night, and
she still had the train ticket stubs in her bag.

Emily
had asked what her relationship was to Jeremy, and Ryann told her that they had
been seeing each other but had recently broken up.  Emily seemed
satisfied, and told Ryann she could answer the questions put forth by the
detective, but to follow Emily’s cues.

So
there she sat on her sofa, waiting for the men to arrive, and wondering who
could’ve mentioned her name in conjunction with stealing the painting. 
Emily was wondering the same thing.

Jennifer’s
name was the only one that had come to mind, so Ryann quickly explained the
complaint at the Institute, but didn’t get very far in the telling, as the door
knock sounded in the apartment.

Emily
let Michael and Jeremy in.  Apparently, Jonathan wasn’t allowed to stay,
though why Jeremy was allowed to, Ryann didn’t know.  Maybe he bribed his
cousin.  Emily turned to Ryann and asked her quietly if she wanted Jeremy
to stay, and she hesitated.  She looked at Jeremy still talking to his
cousin, then nodded.

Robbie’s
brother turned to Jeremy when they walked in, seemingly continuing the
conversation from the hallway.  “Remember, Jem.  The only way you
stay, is if you keep that mouth of yours shut.  One peep out of you, and
you’re gone.”

Jeremy
glared at him, then nodded, and sat next to Ryann on the sofa, taking hold of
her hand.  Ryann tried to remove it, but Jeremy held tight.  He gave
her a steely look, challenging her, and Ryann glared back at him.  Not
wanting to choose that moment to get into it, she relented, allowing him to
hold it.

Emily
sat on the other side of the sofa next to Ryann, while Detective Callahan sat
in the chair next to Emily.  When he sat down, the detective’s knee bumped
into Emily’s.  She looked up, and he just looked at her with a raised
eyebrow, a cool smirk on his face.

That
eyebrow move must’ve been a family trait.  She’d seen the same expression
on Jeremy plenty of times.  It was obvious the detective was toying with
Emily, and that he probably didn’t have warm feelings toward lawyers, because
not only did he not apologize for bumping into Emily, he leaned forward to put
his forearms on the bent knees of his long legs, crowding Emily’s space,
forcing her to sit back farther on the sofa.

Emily
gave him a look, her brown eyes now darkened in annoyance that screamed
asshole.

With
Jeremy on one side, and his equally tall cousin on the other, Ryann felt like
she was in the land of the giants.

The
questions began.

“You
attended the gala last night?”

Ryann
swallowed, and she could feel Jeremy’s hand squeeze hers.

“For
a short time.”

“I
was there, as well.  With my family, but I don’t believe I saw you.”

Jeremy
huffed out an annoyed sound.

“I
was there for a
very
short time.”

“When?”

“I
arrived at 7:30, and left by eight.”

“Why
did you leave so early?” he asked quietly.