Free Icy Control by Elizabeth Lapthorne Page A

him. His jaw and body were relaxed. He smiled. Feeling relieved, she waited for him to marshal his thoughts.
    “Let me make a few deductions here, love,” he started.
    Sally relaxed. His tone was light and comforting. She knew then and there that this wasn’t going to be an issue.
    “Victoria Parker is outwardly a restorer—paintings predominantly—and probably only known of in certain circles of the art world,” Rob guessed, very accurately. “While she’ll never work on a truly famous piece, she’s talented and solidly mid-range. In other sections—the more shadowed and quieter ones, I’m betting—she’s privately a bit of a forger, but only for select people whom she knows and trusts. She’s very low key and not remotely interested in anything overtly illegal. Only the shady, possibly even borderline criminal stuff. Nothing heavy or hard core. She’s a dabbler and in general a good person. Probably very nice and quite friendly. How am I doing?”
    “You’re far too intelligent to ask such a stupid question when you know very well the answer already.” Sally sniffed disdainfully. She was secretly relieved Rob understood the situation so perfectly. She just didn’t want to pander to his ego any more than she already had. In many ways, Sally knew she worshiped Rob—he was a brilliant, wonderful man. He didn’t have an over-enlarged ego, or unearned arrogance, but neither was she going to gush over him like some virginal school girl with a crush.
    Rob chuckled and she could feel his gaze riveted on her. She stared out of the windscreen, her chin tilted, refusing to look at him.
    She didn’t need to read his mind to know he understood he’d hit it perfectly on every score in relation to Vicky.
    “So we can assume a few things,” Rob continued jovially. “One, since you are certain the work would take time, it was done a while ago, possibly before the Gallery even had possession of the painting. Two, Vicky will know who gave her the piece to restore. And from that, we can take a leap of faith and hope that, three, that same person organized for the codes to be made in the painting.”
    “Will you need Vicky to make a statement, go on record or testify—whatever it is that usually happens?” Sally asked, turning worried eyes upon him again.
    Rob hissed.
    Sally’s attention snapped back to the road and she swerved the car. She’d gotten a little too close to the rear bumper of the car in front of them. About to defer the conversation, she suddenly found an empty spot.
    “Ah ha!” she crowed. Feeling a righteous thrill from success in finding a parking place in the city she twisted the wheel sharply. She swerved the car into the tiny spot, parking in a fluid, graceful motion.
    Switching off the ignition, Sally then turned in her seat. She beamed proudly at Rob and saw he’d lost a bit of color. True, she might have been a bit over-vigorous in taking her spot, but had she hesitated even a moment, some other vulture would have snatched it from her.
    “Bloody hell, now I remember why I never let you drive, Sal. I can’t make promises when it comes to the crunch, that’s up to Waldron, not me,” he said. “I can say that I doubt it will come to that. Vicky is a small piece of the larger puzzle. If she only restored the painting, covering over the invisible additions someone made, she had no knowledge of what she was really doing. We’re really just tying up the loose ends anyway. With luck we can crack the code and have far bigger fish to fry here. In the end, it’s the person who had this added we want, not Vicky.”
    “I guess it’s too much to ask to not have her name in that report?” Sally said as they both removed their seat belts. She felt a bit sad, already knowing the answer, but needed to ask it anyway. Rob twisted his mouth in a frown.
    “I’m sorry, Sal. All I can promise is that I’ll do what I can to protect her, but I truly don’t think Waldron will see her as more than a