The Collector Page 81


“You know how to enjoy the moment better than anyone I know, until it’s personal. You like being with him, you have feelings for him. It’s clear it’s the same on his end. Why anticipate trouble?”

“He hovers.”

“The situation calls for hovering, if you’re asking me.”

“All right, that’s fair. He’s used to handling the details, and people, and situations. Add that to the way he feels because he didn’t handle Oliver’s situation. It’s intense. He’s got a way of making things happen, and . . .”

“And you like to take care of your own details, keep everything loose.” Satisfied with the padding, Julie got out the strapping tape. “Sometimes tying yourself to someone else’s life, managing those details together, is the answer. It’s another kind of adventure.”

“You’ve got stars in your eyes,” Lila accused. “And the moon, too.”

“I do. I’ve been in love with Luke since I was fifteen. I denied it for a long time, but it’s always been Luke.”

“That’s romantic.” Lila pressed a hand to her heart. “That’s Elizabeth and Darcy romantic.”

“To me it just feels like reality.”

“That only makes it more romantic.”

“I guess it does.” Smiling to herself, Julie secured the padding. “Still, I was doing just fine on my own. I can be happy—and so can you—on my own. I think that’s what makes it all the more special, all the more strong, when we can take that step, when we can say okay, this is someone I can trust, and be with, and plan with.”

“You’re planning?”

“I was talking about you, but yes. We’re taking it slow. Slower,” she said with a smile when Lila narrowed her eyes. “But we tossed away the last twelve years. That’s enough waste. You want my advice? Don’t toss away something because you’re projecting variables and escape hatches. Go to Tuscany, be safe, solve a mystery and be in love. Because you are.”

“I don’t know how to feel this way.”

“You’d be the first to tell me, just feel.”

“It changes everything.”

Julie just waved a finger in the air. “And despite the fact that you live somewhere new a couple dozen times a year, change is your phobia. When you’re not at the controls. Try something different. Take turns driving.”

“Take turns, go to Tuscany, go sit for a painting I had no intention of doing and now can’t wait to see finished. Be in love. Add all that together, baiting a killer with objets d’art seems like child’s play.”

“You forgot be safe. I mean it, Lila. And e-mail me every single day while you’re gone. Twice a day. We’ll go shopping before you leave.”

“I can’t afford to go shopping—I’m losing Brooklyn.”

“You’re going to Italy. You can’t afford not to go shopping.”

That settled that, Lila thought as she left the gallery. She’d just damn her summer budget to hell, go a little crazy. And really, it had been years since she’d gone a little crazy—the contents of her suitcases were beginning to show it.

Live a little, she decided, and opted to walk to Ash’s loft, doing some window-shopping along the way. A couple new summer dresses, some cropped pants, some tanks and some flowy tops.

She could recycle some of her going-out-and-about wear to work wear, purge some of her work wear. As long as it fit into her suitcases, she was good to go.

A window display caught her eye—the white, faceless mannequin in the breezy dress with boldly colored swirls, and the strappy wedges in emerald green.

She shouldn’t buy green sandals. She should buy a neutral color, something that would go with anything—just like what she had on.

Green could be neutral. Grass was green, and it went with everything when you thought about it.

As she debated with herself, she felt a presence behind her, and before she could step aside, a tiny prick in her side.

“You should be very still and very quiet, or the knife will go much deeper, and very quickly. Nod if you understand me.”

In the window glass, Lila saw the reflection now, the stunning face, the black rain of hair. She nodded.

“Good. We should talk, you and I. My associate has a car, just around the corner.”

“You killed your associate.”

“There’s always more of that kind. He was . . . unsatisfactory. Knowing that, you should take care to be satisfactory. We’ll walk to the car, just two friends enjoying a summer day.”

“I don’t have what you’re looking for.”

“We’ll talk. I have a quiet place.” The woman put an arm firmly around Lila’s waist, as if they were the best of friends, or lovers. The knife pressed a deadly reminder into her side.

“I just looked out the window.” Stay calm, Lila ordered herself. They were on the street in broad daylight. There had to be something she could do. “I didn’t even know Oliver Archer.”

“Yet you went to his funeral.”

“For his brother.”

“And the brother you know very well. It can all be a simple thing, an easy thing. The brother gives me what was promised, and all is satisfied.”

Lila scanned faces as they walked. Look at me! her mind shouted. Call the police.

Everyone passed by, in a hurry to get somewhere else.

“Why do you do this? Why do you kill?”

“Why do you sit in other people’s houses?” Jai glanced down, smiled. “It’s what we do, our living. There are many commendations on your website. We’re good at what we do.”

“So it’s just a job.”

“There’s an American expression. It’s not a job, it’s an adventure. My employer pays well, and expects superior work. I give him superior work. My associate must circle the block, I think. New York, so busy, so much movement. I like it. We have that in common, I think. And we travel for our work. Much in common. If we have a good talk, you can go back, buy that pretty dress in the shop window.”

“If we don’t?”

“Then I do my job. You understand responsibility to an employer.”

“I wouldn’t kill for one. The police have your face. You can’t—”

The knife dug a little deeper, brought a sharp sting. “I don’t see the police, do you?”

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