"They're pausing the load," he said. "I can't guarantee they'll stay paused. You need local police and your attorney."
"What did she tell you?"
He exhaled. "That you'd agreed to a sale, then got nervous about losing your father's things. She said you wanted her to handle it because you couldn't bear to watch them leave."
I stared at the tiled lobby floor. It was a cruelly intelligent lie, built from something true. I had turned down serious offers for the Riverlight collection because I hated imagining those pieces scattered into private homes. Tessa knew I found the topic painful. She had taken a real feeling and used it to explain why I wasn't present to give consent.
"And you believed her?" I asked.
"I wanted to."
"Because you're sleeping with her?"
His voice hardened with shame. "Yes."
That was the first honest answer anybody had given me that evening. It did nothing to make me feel better. "Then you can start making up for it by staying there until police arrive. Don't touch anything else. Save every message she sent you."
"I will."
"And Adrian?"
"Yes?"
"If you knew anything before tonight, you're going to tell them that too."
I ended the call and dialed the nonemergency line for the Pittsburgh police district serving the workshop. I gave the address, explained that people were removing property using a document I denied signing, and said that a family member was on the way. The dispatcher asked for clear facts and cautioned me not to direct anyone to intervene physically. I gave her the freight company's name and the details Adrian had supplied, then asked her to note that original artworks and inventory records were involved.