Beguiled Read online

  Beguiled

  by

  C. M. Sutter

  Copyright © 2019

  All Rights Reserved

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  This book is a work of fiction by C. M. Sutter. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used solely for entertainment. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the internet or any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  C. M. Sutter is a crime fiction writer who resides in Florida, although she is originally from California.

  She is a member of numerous writers’ organizations, including Fiction for All, Fiction Factor, and Writers etc.

  In addition to writing, she enjoys spending time with her friends and family. She is an art enthusiast and loves to create gourd birdhouses, pebble art, and handmade soaps. Hiking, bicycling, fishing, and traveling are a few of her favorite pastimes.

  C. M. Sutter

  http://cmsutter.com/

  Contact C. M. Sutter

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  Beguiled: A Psychic Detective Kate Pierce Crime Thriller, Book 4

  Art thieves are hitting North Bend’s wealthiest residents with a vengeance, and the most sophisticated security systems can’t seem to stop them.

  The homeowners are outraged, and the sheriff’s office is baffled. How do the thieves know which valuables lie behind those stone walls and iron gates, and how do they know when to hit? The only possible answer is inside information, but from whom?

  When a caretaker goes missing during a heist and signs of foul play are evident, psychic detective Kate Pierce has a late-night dream about the man’s murder and ramps up the investigation.

  But when Lieutenant Steele has a chance meeting with a beguiling stranger, the entire case turns upside down, putting him and his team in the worst kind of danger.

  See all of C. M. Sutter’s books at:

  http://cmsutter.com/available-books/

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  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 1

  He waited under the cover of darkness, near the large pillars that secured the gate on either side of the driveway. Two brass coach lamps centered on the pillars gave an ambient glow covering a thirty-foot area around the gate and security panel. Staying in the shadows would keep his movements from being detected until the alarm system was disabled after the homeowners left for the night.

  Pete Redding had studied an extensive list of every family in the county who owned a multimillion-dollar mansion filled with art and jewelry collections. That night, he and his gang of thieves would pay a visit to Mr. and Mrs. Bradley’s private estate. The couple would quickly learn that no matter how sophisticated their security system was, Pete Redding, a master at his craft, could disable it, and although he wasn’t known by name or face, he was as skilled as any legendary thief.

  His cell phone vibrated in the cargo pocket of his pants. He lifted it out and checked the screen before answering. It was the call he was expecting.

  “Hey, what’s up? Yep, I have my eyes on the mansion, and the team is ready and waiting in their designated spot for my go-ahead. Everything is right on schedule. Yes, I’ll keep you posted, and yes, I have the list of paintings to grab.”

  He clicked off the call, pocketed his phone, and lifted the binoculars to his eyes. As he panned the length of the stone mansion, he watched the second-story rooms go dark. He pushed back his sleeve and pressed the button to illuminate the dial of his watch. It was ten after seven.

  They’ll be coming out any second now.

  Moments later, the overhead lamp at the portico came on, and the well-to-do couple, dressed for the evening, exited the home and climbed into the parked car.

  “They’re about to leave,” he whispered into the walkie-talkie. “Make sure the van is well-hidden when the car passes by. It looks like they’re taking the silver Mercedes tonight.”

  “Roger that, Boss, and we’ll be watching for headlights.”

  “Okay, the car is coming my way. Keep your heads low and on a swivel.” Pete clicked off and crouched behind the pillar nearest the gate opening, ready to spring into action as soon as the rear of the car passed beyond the gate. The vehicle slowed to a stop and waited. The sound of creaking iron interrupted the quiet night as the gate slid to the side and made room for the Mercedes to drive out. Wearing dark tactical clothing with pockets, hooks, and Velcro straps for his much-needed gear, Pete blended in with the moonless night and scampered unseen through the opening as the car exited the secured perimeter. He was in but remained hidden until the car’s taillights disappeared.

  He pressed the on button and held the walkie-talkie near his mouth. “Heads-up. They’re coming your way, but hang back a good ten minutes before you move in. We’ll open the gate, and then you’ll drive to the rear of the house and back up to the patio doors. We’re going to need that double-door opening to take out some of the larger artwork. Meanwhile, I’ll start disabling the security system.”

  “Okay, I’m setting the alarm for ten minutes from now. I’ll get back to you then.”

  Pete had surveilled the property before under the guise of an employee performing an inspection for the security company. He knew where every tree-and-structure-mounted camera was located. The home had a state-of-the-art security system to protect the treasures inside, but because Pete had had time to study the system, disabling it would be a walk in the park.

  As avid art collectors, the Bradleys were well-known in the community and highly ranked on the art world’s who’s who list. According t
o the local newspaper, several treasured pieces had been returned to the home the previous morning after being on loan to the local art museum for two years.

  They probably haven’t even unwrapped them yet, and that’ll make my job a lot easier.

  With the security system hardwired into the house at the corner of the portico, Pete just needed to cut the cables that led to the indoor brainbox, and they would be set. The crew could come and go as they pleased without detection.

  With the panel cover off and lying on the floor of the portico, Pete held the wire cutters and was ready to begin his work when bouncing lights to his left caused him to snap his head in that direction.

  Son of a bitch, they’re coming back!

  He grabbed the metal panel cover and two of the four screws. With a few turns of the screwdriver, he temporarily secured the cover to the box. He clicked off his headlamp and looked for a spot to duck into.

  Where the hell can I hide?

  The Mercedes had already cleared the gate and was a hundred feet from the portico. Pete grabbed his bag of tools, dove into the shrubbery, and hoped he hadn’t left anything behind. He held his breath as the car came to a stop only ten feet from where he was hiding.

  Thank God I’m wearing black.

  Pete remembered the night that he had been surprised by a security guard at a heist Jordan had organized. The property was supposed to be empty, but it wasn’t, and the unarmed rent-a-guard lifted his radio to call in a robbery in progress. Pete had to act fast, and on impulse, he tackled the man to the ground. The guard fought a tough battle, but in the end, he had to die. He was face-to-face with Pete, and if the guard were left alive, he’d surely be able to describe Pete to a sketch artist. Pete had pulled out his gun as the man pleaded for his life. Pete’s response still stung every time he thought about it. “Sorry, man, but it has to be done.”

  He shot the guard point-blank, continued with the heist, and nobody was ever arrested for the killing or the robbery.

  Back in the moment, Pete did his best not to move a muscle as he crouched behind the only bush large enough to hide him. He heard Mrs. Bradley apologize for forgetting the gift she had bought for friends they were having drinks with after going to the theater. She exited the vehicle, rounded the back of the car, and said she’d be right back. Her heels clacked only five feet to the left of Pete as she unlocked the door and entered the house.

  A minute later, Mrs. Bradley reappeared and climbed into the passenger seat, but that minute was enough to unnerve Pete. He sucked in a slow breath as he tried to regroup, and he prayed that a message wouldn’t come across the walkie-talkie until the couple was out of earshot. Rex was probably wondering why the couple hadn’t passed yet.

  Seconds seemed like an eternity as Pete sat frozen in place. Finally, the headlights came on, and the Mercedes pulled away. Mr. Bradley made a wide turn at the end of the portico and drove toward the gate.

  Pete let out the frazzled breath he’d been holding and craned his neck to see brake lights flash. The familiar sound of protesting iron told him the gate was opening and the car was driving through. The Mercedes disappeared down the driveway, and the gate creaked to a close behind it.

  Seconds later, the walkie-talkie came to life with Rex Nordy’s voice. “The car just passed us. What the hell took so long?”

  “They came back because the wife forgot a gift. Just stay put for a few more minutes while I finish what I started.”

  “Roger that. Everything is clear now, and the road is dark in both directions. According to the theater program, the production doesn’t end until ten thirty, and then it’s another forty-five-minute drive home. We should be able to grab all the paintings on the list and still have time for a swim.”

  Pete let out a relieved laugh. “I overheard the wife saying they were stopping for nightcaps with friends after the theater. Even though we’d have the time, I don’t think going for a swim is the smartest idea tonight. Our job is to take the artwork and leave. We have to play by the rules, or we’ll all be in hot water with Jordan. Remember, no mistakes and no unnecessary risks—ever.” Pete climbed over the shrubbery and returned to the panel. “Keep your eyes on the road for now, and I’ll contact you in five minutes. We’ll meet at the gate, and you can help me open it manually.”

  “Not a problem.”

  With the system finally disabled, Pete jogged down the driveway and pressed the button on the walkie-talkie. “The system is secure, so come on up.”

  The van arrived in less than a minute. On his side of the gate, Pete released the locking mechanism, and with a heave and help from Rex, they manually pushed it open.

  The master art thief grinned and rolled his neck. Pete was in true form. “Let’s go, boys. Christmas is coming early this year.” After the van passed through the gate, he pointed toward the portico. “Follow the driveway all the way around the house, and you’ll see the patio on the far left, just before the pool and chaise lounges. You’ll have to move the outdoor furniture in order to back up the van to the house, so make sure you’re gloved. I’m going in, and I’ll meet you at the patio doors.”

  With his bag of tools in hand, Pete went to the door the couple had exited earlier. He assumed the side doors wouldn’t be as fortified as the front door, and he was right. Picking that hardware-store lock would be child’s play.

  People as rich as you should be ashamed to go the cheap route, especially with all the valuables in your house. With a lock like that, you deserve to be robbed.

  He knelt on the step, secured the headlamp over his chin-length black hair for the second time that night, then reached into his bag and pulled out the case of lock-picking tools. With a pair of gloves stretched over his hands, he spent only a few minutes jiggling the wire-thin prodding tools in the key slot before he heard the clicking sound of sweet success. Disengaging door locks was music to his ears. Pete grasped the knob and gave it a turn, and the old brass hinges squeaked as the door swung inward. He entered the dark space and felt for a wall switch.

  Ah, there it is.

  The room lit up from a single pale-yellow blown-glass globe suspended from the ten-foot ceiling by an ornate chain.

  This must have been the servants’ entrance back in the day.

  He continued on past the dining room, the kitchen, and the butler’s pantry. As he entered the next room and found the lights, he stopped and took it all in. He whistled, then a wide smile covered much of his face.

  Now that’s what I’m talking about.

  The room, larger than many middle-class homes, was decorated with an array of wall art and Renaissance marble sculptures. It was an art thief’s dream and contained valuables on par with those he had stolen from the best homes in Chicago’s Gold Coast neighborhood.

  With a mission to complete, Pete didn’t have the luxury of lingering and taking in the artistic beauty around him. He didn’t want to disappoint the person calling the shots. He made his way to the back of the home, where the patio doors were located just off the conservatory. He turned the dead bolts on both doors, pushed them wide open, then lowered the doorstops with his foot. His three men were moving the patio furniture out of the way.

  Rex tipped his head toward the wrought iron pieces. “This is some heavy shit, Boss.”

  Pete nodded his approval. “Good quality, I’m sure. Get the van backed up to the doors while I start going through the artwork.” Returning to the main parlor, Pete saw three wrapped paintings still leaning against the wall.

  Those must be the pieces that just came back. Guess you’re going with us.

  His whistle caught the attention of Don Fermann, who looked over his shoulder then jogged to Pete’s side. “What can I help you with?”

  “Take these paintings out to the van, and then I want all of you to come in here. Each piece you carry out needs to be wrapped carefully in those moving blankets.”

  “Got it.” Pete watched as Don carried the individual paintings out through the patio doors, secured them in
the van, then came back for more.

  Pete spotted an exquisite marble sculpture as he walked the room. It wasn’t on the list, but he saw no reason to leave it behind.

  This could very well be an authentic Michelangelo and would fetch a handsome price.

  He called Don over. “Wrap this carefully and put it on the passenger seat. We have four more paintings to locate, and then we’re out of here. Where are Rex and John?”

  “They’ll be right in.”

  Pete watched as Don cradled the coveted statue in his arms and disappeared around the corner. Seconds later, Rex and John entered the room.

  “What’s left on the list?” John asked.

  Pete rubbed his forehead with the back of his gloved hand. “We still need the large Vermeer and the Rembrandt etching. The other two are right here.” He pointed at the paintings propped against the fireplace hearth. “You can take these out, John.” Pete’s eyes followed the curve of the grand staircase that led to the second and third floors. He jerked his chin at Rex then glanced at the gilded banjo clock perched on the fireplace mantle. “Jordan is expecting us in an hour, and we can’t leave without the Vermeer. Let’s check upstairs.” He scrolled through the pictures in his cell phone gallery as he called out to Don and John to lend a hand. “This is the painting we need to find, so spread out and start searching. We aren’t leaving this house without it. Here’s the Rembrandt etching too.” He enlarged the photograph on his phone. “It’s about the size of an eight by ten.”

  Don yelled out from several rooms away. “I found the Rembrandt hanging in a hallway.”

  “Good, now keep looking for the Vermeer.”

  The mahogany stairs creaked as Pete and Rex took them to the second floor. “Head down that wing,” Pete said from the landing as he turned in the opposite direction.

  Twenty minutes and four rooms later, Pete yelled out, “I have it.” The Vermeer was in the sitting room of the master suite, and he proudly lifted it from the wall hanger and carried it to the doorway. “Go get a moving blanket so we can wrap it. Jordan is going to be more than pleased with this masterpiece.”