“I don’t really know what you expect me to do. We don’t know what we’re dealing with until one of them reaches out. And then, of course, there’s always the possibility that they’re perfectly happy, just the two of them doing whatever they’re doing and letting me stand around with my dick in my hand.” Owen looked over at Carly. “Sorry.”

Carly shrugged.

“It’s not like that,” Samantha said. “It never was.”

“If you say so, then it must be true.”

Samantha ignored it. “Could you send a text to Jonathan, maybe?”

“I could. But since we don’t know which one of them currently has the upper hand in this, or neither one if they’re partners and don’t need it. . . .” He slid a sideways look at Carly. “It seems like a risk that Marcelline might not appreciate if we make things more difficult for her.”

“What are you going to do, then?”

“I’m going to wait, Samantha. They’ll be in touch. This would be a pretty pointless exercise if they don’t. Hopefully Carly will give you a call before the streetlights come on. Because I won’t.”

“I’m sorry, Owen.”

“That’ll be the day.”

Owen killed the call from the steering wheel. They drove on for a while in silence.

“You’re going to have to tell me where the painting is, you know,” he said.

“I know. But I don’t want to go home yet.”

“Convenient. Because you can’t go home yet.”

Her head jerked up, testing the air for a threat in that comment. “Why?”

“Look, it’s not personal. There’s just no way to turn you loose in the world until this is done. God knows what you’d say.”

“I wouldn’t say anything. But I don’t want to go anyway. I want to make sure that Emma is okay. Marcelline.”

“I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“That’s not the same thing.”

“I understand. But it’s the best I can do. So where are we going?”

Carly unfolded the paper, a receipt, that she’d written Samantha’s number on. “When Marcelline was washing up, I took it into the party store and asked them to gift wrap and hold it for me. I said it was a present for my mom.”

Owen couldn’t decide if the tremor in him was nausea or a laugh trying to elbow through his amazement.

“What?” she said.

“That painting is worth a fortune. And you left it at a party store.”

“They didn’t know what it was. Sometimes there’s nothing safer than cluelessness. Ask any kid.”

•  •  •