Playing With the Criminals by S.E. Law

Author:S.E. Law [Law, S.E.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: S.E. Law Romance

13

Burke

Annabel said she had no idea how we were getting into her room at night, but I still half expected her to exclaim, “Oh, that panel? I never would have thought it could be used for anything but Father’s paintings,” or something along those lines. But the fact that she is utterly clueless breaks my heart. It’s obvious her father doesn’t really care about her. What’s wrong with this family?

I watch her face as the panel comes away from the wall, swinging on tiny hinges like a little door. It’s an incredibly delicate and well-designed bit of architecture. Her big doe eyes are round with surprise and confusion, and her lips part as she tries to work out what she’s looking at.

“What is this?” she stammers, a half-smile of incredulity on her face. “Did you guys install this or something?”

“No,” answers Bruce. “Your father did, years ago. Most serious art collectors have them.”

“What is it?” she asks, curious and incredulous.

“A false wall,” I answer. “Kind of like a safe room, but specifically for artwork.”

“I had no idea it was here,” she says slowly. “How long has it been in my room?”

Poor baby. No doubt, several of the rooms in the penthouse have false walls, but to find out that there’s one in your bedroom is heartbreaking.

I sigh.

“It’s been here a while, sweetheart. Probably years in fact.”

Annabel goes stiff.

“Why? Did my father have it built?”

“Probably, but it might have been here before he bought the penthouse. Art collectors tend to move in similar circles, and I’d bet your father decided to buy this place because it already had the safe room. It’s a traditional precaution common among art collectors. Think of it as an emergency safe for their most precious works right in the comfort of their own home.”

“But,” Annabel cries. “Why wouldn’t Roger tell me? I mean, this is my bedroom. My private sanctuary.”

“I know, sweetheart,” I soothe. “But he probably just wanted to keep it secret. That’s the point of these things.”

Tears brim in her eyes. I understand her betrayal. I wouldn’t want a secret vault in my private space either. At least, not without my knowledge.

My brother speaks then.

“Plenty of old buildings built in the 1930s have these safes, but people don’t really use them anymore because they’ve got modern security technology now. As a result, these safe rooms often get forgotten, or even overlooked. Some folks don’t even realize they have one until they stumble upon it back accident. It’s not like these things are in the building blueprint,” he adds wryly.

Annabel tries to catch her breath, her cheeks flushed.

“So as I understand it,” she says, “you guys break into different apartments via safe rooms that were built for precious objects? But isn’t that perverse?”

“Yeah, it is,” I say, allowing myself to grin. “Sometimes we don’t even have to break into the apartment per se. The stuff’s right in front of us within the first five minutes.”

Annabel lets out an unladylike snort.

“But you’re huge!” she exclaims, gesturing back and forth between us, making both of us grin now.

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