Hot Rocks

I’m sorry.”
    There was a long moment of silence. “Okay, wow.” Jenny goggled at Laine. “I’m going to have a lot of follow-up comments and questions after my head stops spinning, but the first thing I have to ask is how all this—and there’s a lot of this—applies to you being in trouble.”
    “There’s probably a quote somewhere about not being able to escape the past, or cover it over. William Young.” She saw Vince nod slowly and knew he was putting some of it together.
    “The man who was killed when he ran out into the street,” Jenny prompted.
    “Yes. He used to run with my father. They were close as brothers, and hell, he lived with us half the time. I called him Uncle Willy. I didn’t recognize him when he came in. I swear that, Vince. It’s been years since I’ve seen him, and it just didn’t click. It wasn’t until after the accident and he . . . God, he was dying.”
    She drank more water, but this time her hand trembled lightly. “He looked so sad when I didn’t recognize him, when I basically brushed him off. Then he was lying there, bleeding. Dying. He sang part of this stupid song he and my father used to do as a duet. ‘Bye Bye Blackbird.’ Something they’d start singing when we were loading up to skip out of a hotel. I realized who he was, and it was too late. I didn’t tell you, and that’s probably some sort of offense, but I didn’t tell you I knew him.”
    “Why did he come to see you?”
    “He didn’t get much of a chance to tell me. I didn’t give him much of a chance,” she corrected.
    “It’s a waste of time to beat yourself up over that.” Max said it briskly, and had her swallowing tears.
    “Maybe. Looking back, I know he was nervous, edgy, tired. He gave me his card—just as I told you—with a phone number written on it. I really thought he was in the market to sell something. After, I realized he wanted to talk to me about something.”
    She stared into her empty glass, set it aside. “I think my father must’ve sent him. One of Willy’s best skills was blending. He was a small, nondescript sort of man. Jack’s big and redheaded and stands out, so I think Jack sent him to tell me something or give me something. But he didn’t have a chance to do either. He only said . . . he said, ‘He knows where you are now,’ and for me to hide the pouch. I think he said ‘pouch,’ it’s the only thing that makes sense. Except it sounded like ‘pooch,’ but that’s just silly.”
    “What?” Max snapped the word like a whip. “You’re just getting around to telling me?”
    In contrast, Laine’s voice was mild as milk. “That’s right, and I really don’t believe you’re in any position to criticize timing. Insurance, my ass.”
    “It is insurance, goddamnit. Where’s the pouch? What did you do with it?”
    Heat flamed into her cheeks, not from embarrassment but temper. “He didn’t give me a pouch, or anything else. I don’t have your stupid diamonds. He was delirious, he was dying .” Despite all her determination, her eyes filled and her voice broke. “He was dying right in front of me, and it was too late.”
    “Leave her alone.” A mama bear protecting her cub, Jenny rounded on Max before she shifted to wrap her arms around Laine. “You just leave her alone.”
    While Vince patted Laine’s shoulder in a show of support, his gaze was keen on Max’s face. “What diamonds?”
    “The twenty-eight point four million in diamonds stolen from the International Jewelry Exchange in New York six weeks ago. The diamonds my client, Reliance, insured and would very much like to recover. The diamonds my investigation has led me to believe were stolen by Jack O’Hara, William Young and a third party I believe is one Alex Crew.”
    “Holy shit,” Jenny whispered.
    “I don’t know anything about them,” Laine said wearily. “I don’t have them, I’ve never seen them, I don’t know where they are. I’ll take a polygraph.”
    “But somebody thinks you have them, or access to them.”
    Grateful for the support, Laine rested her head on Jenny’s shoulder and nodded at Vince. “Apparently. You can search the house, Vince. You and Max. You can search the shop. I’ll authorize you full access to my phone records, bank records, anything you want. I’m only asking you to keep it quiet so I can just live my life.”
    “Do you know where your father is?”
    “I don’t have a clue.”
    “What do you know about this Alex