Free To Catch a Thief by Christina Skye Page B

the ability to assess changes in eye response, pulse rate and skin temperature. All those factors would indicate whether she was involved in the theft or not.
    â€œIt was an English landscape painting,” he said. “Very old, very rare.”
    As he spoke, he watched Nell’s face. There was no sudden flare of heat. No spikes in pulse or pupil dilation at his lie. Not satisfied, he eased into the deeper skills he’d been taught as a Foxfire agent, reading her emotions through thermal shifts and eye response. But Dakota picked up only curiosity and confusion.
    She didn’t know about a theft at the National Gallery. And that first piece of evidence made him doubt everything else he’d been told by Ryker and their FBI contacts. How much else was wrong with this mission?
    â€œSo a painting was stolen. I don’t understand why you need me?”
    Dakota crossed his arms. “Because we already know who took it and we have to steal it back.”
    â€œI don’t steal things, Lieutenant.”
    â€œBut your father does.”
    â€œDid.” Nell glared at the unopened file on her table. “Not anymore.”
    He sipped some water, watching her face, checking her. It was time for the detail that would hurt her most.
    â€œWe know this piece art was stolen from a locked room in one of the most secure institutions in the world.” He waited a heartbeat, watching her face. “The thief or thieves were exceptionally skilled and left nothing behind but a single fingerprint. The print belonged to the president of the United States.”
    Nell’s hands clenched.
    â€œObviously, we do not consider the president to be a suspect. Given the thief’s m.o.—”
    â€œNo,” she whispered. She shot to her feet. “You’re wrong.”
    â€œI’m not wrong, Nell. You know what that mark means. Your father always left a single carefully transferred presidential fingerprint behind when he stole a piece of art. It was his signature.”
    â€œMy father did not do this.” Her voice tightened. “I know that was his pattern, but half of the law enforcement personnel in this country knew it, too. It’s hardly a secret now. Any thief could have done this.” Color flared in her face, and Dakota picked up shock and anger. The anger came in waves, registered in a sudden thermal flare at her face and neck, signs that could not be hidden from him. No, Nell definitely hadn’t known about this detail of the theft, either. She was fully convinced of her father’s innocence.
    â€œ Get out . You’ve wasted enough of my time.”
    â€œThose are the facts, Nell. Why don’t we call your father and ask him about those men in the alley. Let’s see what he says.”
    â€œYou weren’t on vacation in Scotland,” she said slowly. “That was a lie. You were following me, weren’t you?”
    When Dakota started to counter with a question, Nell cut him off. “I told you to get out.” She gestured furiously toward the door. “I don’t have time for more lies and accusations. I’ve lived with too many in my life.”
    â€œYour father’s in trouble, Nell. The only way to help him is by telling me the truth. All of it.”
    â€œI don’t—”
    Outside in the hall the elevator chimed softly and footsteps crossed the corridor. Nell’s doorbell rang twice. She turned, frowning at the clock.
    Dakota took her arm and shook his head, one finger covering her lips.
    The doorbell rang again.
    â€œF.B.I. Ms. MacInnes, open the door.”
    Dakota felt her flinch as if she’d been hit. “Did you call them?” she whispered.
    He shook his head and pulled out his cell phone.
    â€œMs. MacInnes, please answer the door. We know you’re in there. The doorman saw you come home.”
    Dakota’s hands tightened on her arm. “Ask them for names and badge numbers,” he