They’d taken the long way around the town and now sat in the car, with the air-conditioning running, backed into the last row of yet another shopping center. Marcelline wanted the open view in these last few minutes before going into the little sub shop to talk with Owen. She didn’t want him sneaking up on them. He was presumably already inside. His silver car sat out front in a casual display of not-at-all-bothered. Her stomach rolled at the sight of it.

But she cut her eyes at Carly and smiled in spite of the nausea. “You’re going to be my bodyguard?”

Carly was all out of humor. “No. But I’m part of this. I want him to remember that.” She swallowed and looked down at her hands in her lap. “I want you to remember it, too.”

“Hey, I’m not forgetting that. How could I? I was out of options before you did what you did this morning. You’ve been great. You’re very brave.”

“I don’t know if it was good. Maybe we should just give it back?”

“Jonathan doesn’t get to win. He let people die over this.”

“I didn’t mean to give it back to him. To the museum.”

“Oh.” Marcelline took a turn at averting her eyes. “Yes. That’s an important point. And my answer to it isn’t very good. It’s not the noblest way to go. But this one painting, it’s the least of the collection. It’s not really one of the ones they care about getting back. I mean, I’m sure it would be welcomed, but . . . it might give me my life back. I’m not getting anything for it. Not money. Not anymore.”

She reached out to clasp Carly’s forearm and was relieved that she didn’t pull away. “Carly, I hope you understand. I lost everything. If Owen will take it, I’ll have a chance. Do you think that’s terrible?”

“No. Not terrible. I get it.”

“I hope so. I made a mistake when I met Jonathan. I was wrong. We should have just turned it in. But doing it now doesn’t undo almost any of it.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s lame. I know it is. And I’m sorry.”

“Sometimes lame is okay. Sometimes it has to be.” Carly twitched a crooked, sympathetic smile into her cheek. Then she tried to get paid for it. “But you should let me come in with you. It’s only right.”

Marcelline was impressed with Carly’s bargaining instincts. “I have to talk to Owen alone. There are things he’s going to want to talk about, and it’ll look like I’m not willing to do that if I bring you in.”

Marcelline checked the clock. She should go. Her heart wound up again for another hurtling gallop.