Island Getaway, An Art Crime Team Mystery Read Online Free Page A

over,”
Fredrik said, and rang off. Nick turned to smile as Annika came out
of the restroom, minus the black pantyhose. Her legs were long and
pale below the loose black dress, and the scratches on her knees
were still livid.
    “There’s a first aid station down the hall.”
He put them back into motion, slowly, towing both suitcases now.
“We’ll stop there first, then find the security office and report
the bag stolen.”
    She shot him a glance. “You really don’t
have to do that.”
    “Do what?”
    “I can take care of myself.”
    Of course she could. According to her file,
she was twenty seven. She’d been on her own for years. She could
put Band-Aids on her own knees if she needed to. Or find her own
way to the first aid station and the security office. That wasn’t
the point.
    He smiled. “I told you. We Americans have to
stick together.”
    “But don’t you have something else to do?
You’re here on business, surely?” The big blue eyes behind the
glasses lighted on his dark business suit and tie.
    “I can take thirty minutes to help a pretty
girl.” He winked. She flushed, and as expected, shut up.
    They hit the first aid station to get her
knees bandaged, and from there they headed to the security office,
where Annika explained what had happened, this time to an older
security guard with thinning blond hair and those bright blue
Swedish eyes. He wrote up a report and said he’d be in touch if the
bag should happen to turn up. Then he asked for Annika’s address.
Nick watched as those straight, white teeth sank back into her
lower lip.
    “I don’t have a local address. I didn’t plan
to spend any time in Stockholm. I’m supposed to go straight to
Gotland. My connecting flight’s in—” She checked her watch, a
dainty thing dangling around one thin wrist, “—just over an
hour.”
    “We can forward the bag there if we find
it,” the guard offered.
    But Annika shook her head, looking near
tears again. “If I don’t have the bag, there’s no point in going to
Gotland.”
    Nick’s ears pricked up.
    “What was in the bag?” the guard asked, pen
poised over the rubric on the report marked ‘contents.’
    Annika blushed. “Cremains.”
    “ Förlåt? ”
    “Cremated remains,” Nick clarified.
“Ashes.”
    And shit, if that was true, it explained the
careful way she’d carried the bag onto the plane, as well as the
guilty glances she’s shot up to the overhead bin during the flight.
People tended to be uncomfortable around things like remains, and
she’d probably been imagining the reactions of her fellow travelers
if they realized what was in the bag.
    Fuck. Had he followed a bag of ashes halfway
around the world?
    The guard still looked confused, and Annika
said, “My father passed away recently. He was Swedish. He had a
note in his wallet saying he wanted to be cremated and have his
ashes taken to Gotland.”
    “Ah.” The guard made a notation on the form
along with a muttered remark that Nick recognized as the Swedish
equivalent of ‘damned fools.’ He decided not to comment. Easier for
everyone if he just pretended not to understand Swedish.
    “I’m sure the airline would be happy to
change your flight,” he told Annika instead, “given the
circumstances. Maybe you should stay in Stockholm for a day or two,
just in case the bag turns up. You can always go to Gotland
later.”
    She nodded, back to worrying her lower lip
again. Nick was beginning to find it distracting. It made him keep
his eyes on her mouth too much for comfort.
    “I know the names of a couple of good
hotels,” he told her when they were outside in the corridor again,
headed toward the customer service counter for her ticket change.
“If you’re spending the night in Stockholm you can have dinner with
me later.”
    That stopped the worried gnawing, which
hadn’t been his primary intent, but which was helpful all the same.
Her mouth fell open for a second, that lower lip plump and red,
before she