In honor of surviving my first college midterms . . . here's another chapter for you. Sorry it's been so long since I updated. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it. Let me know. :)
Kurt had to swallow twice before he could speak. "Stop the tape." He barely recognized the sound of his own voice. "That's Jane." He glanced at the timestamp on the video. Just a little after nine. So she'd stolen the painting, went home to change, and then hooked up with him at the bar and fucked him senseless. Charming.
"Really?" Zapata's eyes narrowed in speculation as she studied Weller. "You can tell that from a dark surveillance video after one meeting? That's . . . amazing."
"Who's Jane?" Patterson wanted to know.
"The curator of the museum," Reade told her. "Jane Kruger."
"Who you said was absolutely not the type to be involved," Zapata gleefully reminded him. "You owe me fifty bucks. Pay up."
Reade's eyes narrowed. "And like you just said, Weller's ID off a dark surveillance video after one meeting is pretty incredible. I doubt if we can even get a search warrant for her place based on that. I think I'll wait until we have some concrete evidence before I give you a dime."
"Enough!" The banter that normally secretly amused Kurt was grating on him today. "We might not have enough evidence to charge Jane yet, but we're not going to rest until we do. Patterson, see if you can do your forensic voodoo on that tape and confirm it's her. Reade, Zapata, start digging into her past and find something to justify that search warrant. In the meantime, I'm going to bring Jane in for questioning and see if I can't trick her into revealing something that will give us cause to hold her."
Though if she was as calculating as he now suspected, his interrogation wouldn't faze her. It was clear to him now that she had orchestrated their meeting, either to cultivate a relationship with him to find out where he was at in the investigation or to compromise his integrity in the event she became a suspect. Which she had done with entirely too much ease. Damn you, Jane Kruger.
Kurt's jaw was clenched tight the entire drive back to the museum. Jane looked up with a welcoming smile as he appeared in the doorway to her office, but it quickly faded at the hard look he gave her in return, to be replaced by . . . sadness? Resignation? Whatever it was, it was just as much an act as the desire she'd feigned for him last night. She'd probably even faked her orgasms.
"From the looks of things, you didn't come here to give me good news," Jane said evenly.
"We haven't recovered the painting yet," Kurt bit out. Which you already know, you bitch. "But we are pursuing a lead. I need you to come back to our office with me and answer a few questions."
"I see." Jane surprised him by getting up without a fight and putting her coat on. He'd expected her to lawyer up on the spot, but no doubt she was savvy enough to realize that if they had anything concrete on her, she'd be making the trip in handcuffs. Her composure certainly indicated that, but as Kurt placed a hand on her back to usher her out the door, he realized that calm was yet another act. She was trembling beneath his touch, and he fought back a momentary wave of sympathy.
She's just nervous about the fact that she's going to wind up in jail, he reminded himself, but just as he was shoring up his defenses against her, he made the mistake of glancing down at her, and the vulnerable look in her green eyes had his protective instincts rising to the fore again. Along with a healthy wave of lust. What the hell is wrong with me today? he wondered in disgust. He considered himself a chivalrous guy, but he'd never before fallen prey to a damsel-in-distress con. Clearly, it had been far too long since he'd gotten laid.
The drive back to the NYO was accomplished in silence, and Kurt took Jane straight to an interview room. "Make sure she doesn't leave," he said to the agent he'd had accompany them, loudly enough for Jane to hear. He could feel her eyes boring into his back as he exited, but he wanted to see what the team had found before questioning her. "Where we at?" he asked when he rejoined the others in the bullpen.
"Jane—assuming she is the real Jane Kruger and not an identity thief as well—is something of a mystery," Zapata began. "She was born Alice Kruger in 1984, the oldest of two children to George and Susan Kruger. Her brother Ian was born four years later, and by all accounts, they were a happy family until her parents were murdered in a home invasion robbery when Alice was seven."
"Were . . . were Alice and her brother there at the time?" Kurt asked hoarsely.
"Yeah." Reade's voice was grim. "The first police on scene found her huddled with Ian in the closet in his bedroom. According to the report, the parents told Alice to grab her brother and hide when the burglar broke in. God only knows how long they were in that closet until they were found."
Kurt swallowed hard as the image of a frightened, heartbroken young Jane flashed through his mind. It hit all too close to home, given his own history.
"Things went downhill for Alice and Ian from there," Zapata continued. "They had no family to take them in, so they were placed in foster care. Their case worker managed to keep them together for the first couple years, but when their foster parents decided to move out of state, they were told they were going to be split up. That was when Alice began stealing and ran away with Ian for the first time."
"Because Ian was all she had left in the world," Kurt surmised. "She was determined to be a good big sister and protect him." He knew how that felt.
"Yeah, well . . ." Zapata blew out a breath. "Her attempts at 'protecting him' landed in her in a juvenile detention facility multiple times. Her last arrest was for pickpocketing not long after her eleventh birthday. When she got out, she took off with Ian again, and social services never caught up with them. The next time Alice Kruger popped up was shortly after her eighteenth birthday, when she legally changed her name to Jane. She obtained her GED and got a degree in art history—graduated magna cum laude even though she was also working full-time—before being hired on at The Met as an assistant curator. She was offered the curator position at her current job a little over a year ago."
"And Ian?" Kurt asked curiously.
"He showed up four years after Jane did and followed in his sister's footsteps by changing his name to Lincoln and getting a degree in education."
"So she kept them together and safe until he was old enough to look out for himself. Good for her," Kurt commented.
Zapata shot him an odd look. "Together, apparently, but how safe is debatable. No one knows what happened in the seven-year gap Alice was missing, but her case worker thought there was a high likelihood that she and/or Ian would wind up being sex trafficked. And in the end, her efforts were all for naught anyway."
Zapata's words had been such a blow to the gut that it took a moment for her last comment to register. Kurt frowned. "What do you mean?"
"You don't recognize the name Lincoln Kruger?" Mayfair spoke up for the first time. "He was one of the eight foreign teachers kidnapped by Al-Qaeda in South Africa a few months back. Several of their governments paid the ransom to get them back, but of course, the United States doesn't negotiate with terrorists, so Lincoln's fate, and that of the three other Americans with him, is unknown at this point."
Kurt's brow furrowed. "So, Jane is stealing this artwork and selling it on the black market to fund her brother's release." It would certainly fit with her history of protecting her brother at all costs.
"That doesn't fit with the information Rich has gleaned from his dark web contacts," Zapata pointed out. "He's adamant that someone named Shepherd is behind them in order to fund a terrorist attack."
Kurt frowned. As annoying as he found Rich Dotcom personally, he had to admit their informant's intel had always been spot-on. "Okay, so maybe this theft isn't tied to the others. Maybe Jane just took advantage of those thefts to steal the painting to ransom her brother, hoping it would be attributed to this other thief."
"If Jane stole the painting," Patterson commented. "I ran a forensic gait analysis on the video from the theft, comparing it to some footage of Jane taken earlier in the day, and it certainly could be her, but it's far from conclusive proof. From what we can tell so far, she appears to have been a model citizen her entire adult life."
"Go talk to her," Mayfair advised Kurt. "See if you can shake something loose. In the meantime, I'll see if I can find a judge to issue a search warrant for Ms. Kruger's home and office based on Patterson's . . . gait analysis."
Kurt mulled over what he had learned as he prepped to question Jane, his heart heavy as he made his way back to the interview room. Jane was sitting with her shoulders slightly hunched as he entered, but she met his gaze levelly as he took the seat across from her. "Ms. Kruger. My team has been filling me in on your history. I'm sorry for your parents' loss. And what happened to your brother. I can't imagine what you must be going through, not knowing where—or how—he is."
Jane was caught off-guard by Kurt's gentleness, and tears welled in her eyes. "Thank you, but . . . my bro—Lincoln's alive. I have to believe that."
"Of course you do." Kurt had to restrain himself from reaching across the table and taking Jane's hand in his to try to ease the sadness in her eyes. "I'm a big brother, and believe me, there's nothing I wouldn't do to protect my sister." He paused for a beat. "Including stealing priceless works of art to fund her ransom, if need be."
Jane reeled back as if Kurt had slapped her. "So that's your plan? Make nice to me, pretend to sympathize, and get me to just break down in tears and confess to you? Nice try, but you'll have to do better than that."
"I'm not faking anything," Kurt shot back. "I do know what it's like to go to any lengths to protect your sibling, and I am trying to help you. We know you stole the painting. We have you on tape." He withdrew the surveillance photo and slid it across the table to her. "But if you'll just come clean, there's not a judge in the land who won't sympathize with you. I'm sure the mitigating circumstances will be taken into account at your sentencing."
Jane's eyebrows rose as she looked at the barely visible figure in the photo. "You're claiming you can tell that's me from this picture? Impressive, Special Agent Weller. Can you pull rabbits out of hats too?" She took a deep breath as temper flared in his eyes, willing herself to stay calm. "Look, I'll admit that you've concocted a plausible motive for me to commit the crime, and if you've looked into my background, you no doubt know I have a juvenile record for theft, but there are two big problems with your theory."
"Oh yeah?" Kurt queried. "And what are those?"
Jane cocked her head in an uncanny approximation of the figure in the photo before her. "For starters, there's a world of difference between picking pockets and stealing food from convenience stores to survive, and the skillset needed for high-end art theft. And more importantly . . ." She took a deep breath. "The terrorists who kidnapped my brother aren't asking for a monetary ransom, Agent Weller. They're demanding a prisoner swap of several of Al-Qaeda's top lieutenants. So if someone starts breaking those men out of whatever hole the CIA has them in, you might have cause to suspect me. Until then . . ." She smiled thinly. "I'm afraid you've got nothing."
Kurt slammed his fist down on the table. "This isn't a game, Jane. I may not have conclusive proof of your involvement yet, but we're getting warrants for your home and office now, and our agents will be tearing those places apart before the day is out. And since we have credible intel that this string of art thefts is being used to fund an upcoming terrorist attack, trust me, I won't stop until I find that proof. I can only pray that we'll find it in time to stop Shepherd."
He hadn't meant to let Shepherd's name slip, but the way that Jane's eyes flew to his, her face paling, convinced him beyond a shadow of a doubt that it was familiar to her. "Do you know this man?"
"No," Jane replied dully after a moment. Her hands were shaking so badly that she had to clasp them together to still their trembling. "No, I'm not acquainted with any man by that name."
Kurt sighed. Clearly, he was going to get nowhere with Jane this way. He gentled his tone and tried a different tack. "Look, you seem to me like a good person who's gotten caught up in a bad situation for reasons I can't understand. I don't think you want to risk having the deaths of god only knows how many innocent people on your conscience, so if you'll come clean to me now, before we find proof of your involvement, I'll do everything in my power to help you."
Jane glanced down at her hands, refusing to meet his gaze any longer but not responding, and Kurt sighed again as he rose. "I'm going to be leading the search of your apartment, but I'll leave an agent outside the door in case you decide you want to talk. The clock's ticking, Ms. Kruger."
He exited without a backwards glance.