The Monuments Men Murders (The Art of Murder 4)

The relief was instantaneous and almost overwhelming.

Thank God. Thank God.

Thank God.

For a moment he couldn’t think beyond that sense of freedom, of deliverance. Jason’s knees felt weak, he almost dropped into the chair before the desk, but then he absorbed the expression—the lack of expression—on Sam’s face, took in the measuring way Sam was watching him.

Sam, who understood better than anyone how much strain Jason was under—and who had probably formed a clinical opinion on how much more Jason could take.

Jason matched his tone to Sam’s unemotional timbre. “You don’t think it’s true.”

Sam said at once, “I don’t know if it’s true. The recovered body is too damaged to identify without DNA testing, and DNA testing is going to take a while.”

Jason nodded automatically. “What happened? How was he found?”

“He appears to have been renting a boat under an assumed name in Lunenburg, Nova Scotia.”

“He was still in Canada.” Jason was trying to process.

“Apparently so.”

“What happened?”

“The investigation is ongoing. The boat was discovered on fire yesterday evening. A badly burned body was located in the main cabin, along with a partially charred passport, wallet, and other items identifying the victim as Jeremy Kyser.”

“It’s too convenient,” Jason said.

Apparently, this was the deduction Sam wanted from him because he seemed to relax slightly.

“Maybe.”

“He’s covering his tracks.”

“It’s possible. Kyser has incentive to disappear, and a death which results in a body that can’t easily be identified is, as you say, pretty convenient.”

“What happens next?”

He’s coming for me.

The paralyzing thought flew into Jason’s brain. He managed not to say it aloud.

“Because of the special circumstances, they’ll try to expedite the DNA testing, and then we’ll see where we are.” Sam said carefully, “It’s not bad news.”

“I don’t believe—and you don’t believe—it’s good news.”

“We don’t know what it is. Yet. We will.”

Jason nodded. Because what else could he do?

For one halle-fucking-lujah of a moment he had thought it was over, and the relief had been…almost embarrassing. But it wasn’t over, and coming so close to deliverance merely made this part harder.

So he nodded again. “Okay. Thanks for the heads-up.”

Sam made a move toward him. “Jason—”

He managed a twitchy smile and stepped back. He could not afford to accept comfort, sympathy, at this point. “I’m okay. It’s better if I just get back to work. I need to focus on something else right now.”

The concerned understanding in Sam’s gaze almost undid him. Sam said gruffly, reluctantly, “All right, West.”