One officer popped the back latch and shone his flashlight inside. The beam caught the torn velvet and a faint shimmer of color beneath it. He froze, then raised his radio. “Dispatch, we’ve got something big here,” he said quietly. “Get the museum liaison on the line.”
By dawn, Dan was sitting in a warm room at the precinct, a blanket over his shoulders and a cup of coffee cooling in his hands. Detectives went back and forth, piecing everything together. The “furniture” job had never been furniture; it was a cover from the start.