Ultimate Weapon (McClouds & Friends #6)(24)

“I ask you because I care,” Erin said, quietly stubborn.

Being shamed into feeling like a spoiled, sulky bitch did not do any favors to her mood. Tam felt her irritation ratchet up a couple notches. “I didn’t ask you to care,” she said.

Erin gave her a reproving look. “Cope,” she said dryly. “I know you may find this hard to believe, but I actually came here today for a reason other than just to torment you and waste your time.”

“Oh. Astonishing,” Tam muttered.

Erin was silent for a long moment, her mouth pressed into a thin line. Tam could actually hear her, in the ether, counting to ten and praying for patience. It gave her a pang of mingled guilt and satisfaction. She’d pierced the protective layer of Zen-like, cow-hormone-induced calm. Zing, she’d scored a point. Tam tried hard to enjoy it.

Erin let out a long, slow breath that she had surely learned in a mellow new-age yoga class. In with the good vibes, out with the bad. “It’s about this really weird thing that happened to me at work yesterday. It might be a business opportunity for you,” she said.

Tam blinked. That was, in fact, utterly unexpected. “Huh?”

“At the museum. I did a consultation for this guy. He came all the way from Rome. He wanted an expert opinion on a replica of a piece of Celtic-themed jewelry he’d found. He’s trying to locate the designer, and he had a lead that she was in this area. So he opens up the case, and I look in, and I just about drop my teeth. It was one of your designs.”

Tam felt a cold, unpleasant chill spreading from the pit of her belly outward through her limbs. “Which one?”

“One of the torques. The one you named for me. The Erin.”

Tam drummed her fingers and stared down into her cup of black coffee. The Erin. A piece she’d done to help exorcise the demon of Kurt Novak, not that it had helped much. “Describe it,” she snapped.

Erin looked puzzled. “I just did. It’s part of the series of—”

“No two pieces are alike,” Tam said. “Tell me which stones were in it, the number, the color scheme, the number of gold threads in the braid, the size of the finial. Rubies or garnets? Amythyst or sapphire?”

“Oh.” Erin thought for a moment. “It was similar to the original,” she offered. “But the stones were cabochon rubies, I think. Not garnets.”

“Gotcha.” Tam filed that into her database, made a mental note to call the broker in Marseilles who had handled that particular sale, and went back to drumming her fingers, silently processing data.

She was alarmed. And unnerved. Someone who had been able to connect Erin to the creator of Deadly Beauty had access to information that could only spell trouble for all of them. She had passports and multiple alternate identities set up for herself and Rachel, and various emergency bolt-holes already prepared in remote parts of the globe, but those identities weren’t as ripe or well constructed as her current one. And a woman with a child was more visible, more memorable.

More vulnerable.

Besides. She liked this home. Rachel liked it, too. And she liked her work, a lot. If she changed identities, she would never be able to do metalworking again. The very thought of it made her furious.

Plus. The McCloud Crowd might bug her, but they were the only safety net Rachel had. If she took the kid to South Africa or Sri Lanka, their space station would be that much farther from solid ground and normality. Relative safety, maybe, but not a life. Not an extended family.

Still. If her identity was compromised…she should get those extra passports out of the safe, pack up Rachel, and go. Right now.

Erin waited, and waited, growing visibly impatient. “What?” she prompted sharply. “What are you thinking?”

Tam hesitated for a moment before replying, her voice hard. “I think you and Kev and Connor should take a very long, quiet vacation somewhere. Like an uncharted island in the Pacific, maybe. By private boat. I think Seattle just got a whole lot more dangerous for everybody.”

Erin’s gaze darted nervously to the kitchen entrance to her son, who was flopping and rolling enthusiastically on the carpet in the other room while Rachel giggled her appreciation and egged him on. “Um…” She swallowed, visibly. “Aren’t you overreacting a little?”

“No,” Tam said bluntly. “Not even a little.”

“Damn,” Erin sighed. “I have this verbatim conversation all the time with Connor and my brothers-in-law. Not you, too. Isn’t it remotely possible that a thing can sometimes be exactly what it seems?”

“It is exactly what it seems,” Tam said. “A trap.”

Erin’s mouth tightened. “I can’t keep looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life,” she said rebelliously. “I just can’t. It drives me nuts.”

Tam shrugged. “So don’t complain when you get stabbed in the back, honey.”

“Oh, shut up. You are hopeless,” Erin snapped.

“Literally and figuratively,” Tam agreed. “But come on, Erin. What are the odds? Of all the experts on Celtic antiquities to consult with about this piece, he picks you? Granted, you’re good, and a lot of people know it, but you’re far from the only one, far from the most famous one, and certainly one of the youngest ones. Five years ago you were finishing grad school, doing unpaid internships.”