Uncommon Criminals by Ally Carter Read Free Book Online Page B

spiraling into the sky. Icicles hung from the roof, and the whole thing might easily have been made out of gingerbread.
    “Yeah,” Hale said, staring out the window. “He’s got to be a criminal mastermind, all right.”
    Outside the SUV, the snow was up to Kat’s knees, and she had to hold Hale’s arm to steady herself as they waded their way through the deep drifts to the small shaded stoop.
    “Hale,” Kat said slowly, “one more thing you might want to know about Charlie.…”
    Gabrielle was ahead of them, her long legs skirting over the drifts like the wind.
    “Yeah?” Hale said.
    “He’s Eddie’s brother.…”
    “Okay.”
    “And…”
    Looking up at Hale, Kat had to think that the sky was so clear, so blue, so close. Hale was close. He felt with her, and she honestly didn’t know whether or not that scared her—what she should or should not say. For a moment, there didn’t seem to be anything to say at all.
    But just as quickly, that moment was over, because the door was swinging open, a gruff voice was saying, “Who’s there?” and the three of them were turning, staring at the familiar face of Uncle Eddie.
    “Kat?” She heard the worry in Hale’s voice and knew he was already formulating cover stories and concocting lies.
    “It’s okay, Hale. He’s—”
    “Hello, Uncle Charlie.” Gabrielle pushed her sunglasses onto the top of her head, and the wind blew through her long hair. She was beautiful—Kat could see it. And yet one of the best artists in the world seemed to barely notice. He was too busy staring past her, squinting against the glare of the sun that bounced off the snow—a blinding white.
    “Nadia.” His voice cracked and his lips quivered, but his gaze stayed locked on Kat. The best hands in the business were shaking as they pointed toward her.
    “No, Charlie. This is Nadia’s daughter, Kat. Remember?” Gabrielle whispered. “Nadia’s gone, Charlie.”
    “Of course she is,” the man snapped, and straightened and pulled back from the door. “Come inside if you’re coming.”
    Kat and Hale stood alone in the sun, watching the old man disappear into the shadow of the house, and that was when Hale mumbled, “Uncle Eddie’s got a twin.…There are two Uncle Eddies.”
    “No.” Kat shook her head. “There aren’t.”
    * * *
    False walls and fake IDs, frames with forged paintings, necklaces with imitation gems. Kat was well aware that most things in her world were a little bit unreal, but it had never seemed so obvious until she stood on the threshold of the tiny cottage at the top of the world. She thought of Mr. Stein’s house in Warsaw, entire rooms dedicated to the search for treasures that were gone, hidden, lost—perhaps never to be seen again. But Uncle Charlie’s house…Charlie’s house was the opposite in almost every way.
    Three Mona Lisas hung beside the doorway. The mantel over the fireplace held at least a dozen Fabergé eggs. There was a basket of bearer bonds by the fire with the rest of the kindling, a set of hand towels in the bathroom that, had they not been made from terry cloth, would have been, collectively, an exact replica of Leonardo’s Last Supper .
    It was the oddest sort of museum that any of them had ever seen, so they turned slowly, taking the whole sight in.
    “Forgive the mess,” Charlie said, pushing aside a pile of canvases to clear a place on a faded wingback chair. “Haven’t had company in a few days.”
    Or years, Kat thought, remembering the long snowy drive. She stood quietly, watching Hale’s gaze sweep over the room, waiting for his eventual, “Um…Charlie?”
    The old man jumped a little at the sound of his own name, but still managed to mutter, “What?”
    “Is that a real Michelangelo?” Hale pointed to a sculpture that sat in the corner, covered with hats and scarves and dust.
    “Of course it is.” Charlie patted the sculpture on the back. “Nadia helped me steal it.”
    Gabrielle and Hale seemed almost