Hot Rocks

bad either. Maybe before we do, we should get the rest of it out of the way. Can I see them?”
    He turned the soup down, opened the briefcase he’d set on the table. The sight of him taking out the piggy bank made her laugh and lower to a chair.
    “It’s horrible really, to think I might’ve been killed over what’s in the belly of a piggy bank. But somehow it’s not. It’s just so Jack.”
    “A rep of the insurance company will be picking them up tomorrow.” He spread a newspaper, picked up the little hammer he’d found in the mudroom. “Want the honors?”
    “No. Be my guest.”
    It took a couple of good whacks before he could slide the padding out, then the pouch. He poured the sparkling waterfall in it into Laine’s hand.
    “They don’t get less dazzling, do they?”
    “I like the one on your finger better.”
    She smiled. “So do I.”
    While he dumped the shards and newspaper, she sprinkled the diamonds onto velvet. “They’ll have half of them back now. And since Crew’s been identified and captured, they might find the rest of them where he lived, or in a safe-deposit box under his name.”
    “Maybe. Might have a portion of them stashed that way. But he didn’t go to Columbus, he didn’t take something to that kid out of the goodness of his heart or a parental obligation. The ex and the son have something, or know something.”
    “Max, don’t go after them.” She reached out for his hand. “Let it go. They’re only trying to get away from him. Everything you told me says she’s just trying to protect her child, give him a normal life. If you go after them, she’ll feel hunted, she’ll run again. I know what that’s like. I know what it was like for my mother until she found some peace, until she found Rob. And my father, well, he’s a thief and a con, and a liar, but he’s not crazy, he’s not a killer.”
    She nudged the diamonds toward him. “No amount of these is worth making that innocent boy live with the fact that his father’s a killer. They’re just stones. They’re just things.”
    “Let me think about it.”
    “Okay.” She got up, kissed the top of his head. “Okay. Tell you what. I’ll put a couple of sandwiches together to go with this soup. You can cross-check the diamonds with your list. Then we’ll put them away and eat like boring, normal people.”
    She got up to get the bread. “So when do you suppose I can get my car back from New Jersey?”
    “I know a guy who’ll transport it down. Couple of days.” He set to work. “I’ll run you around meanwhile, or you can use my car.”
    “See, boring and normal. Mustard or mayo on the ham?”
    “Mustard,” he said absently, then fell into silence with the dog snoring at his feet.
    “Son of a bitch.”
    She glanced back. “Hmm?”
    He shook his head. “Let me do this again.”
    Laine cut the sandwiches she’d built in two. “Doesn’t add up, does it?” She set the plates on the table as Max tapped his fingers and studied her. “I was afraid of that. Or not afraid, really, just resigned. A little short of the quarter share?”
    “About twenty-five carats short.”
    “Uh-huh. Well, your client would accept, I’m sure, that the shares might not have been evenly divided. That the portions that are left might be just a little heavy.”
    “But that wouldn’t be the case, would it?”
    “No. No, I doubt very much that was the case.”
    “He pocketed them. Your father.”
    “He’d have taken his share out, selected a few of the stones, just as a kind of insurance, then he’d have put them into another container—the pig—and kept the insurance on him. In a money belt or a bag around his neck, even in his pocket. ‘Put all your eggs in one basket, Lainie, the handle’s going to break. Then all you’ve got is scrambled eggs.’ You want coffee with this?”
    “I want a damn beer. I let him walk.”
    “You’d have let him walk anyway.” She got the beer, popped the top for him, then slid into his lap. “You’d have taken the diamonds back if you’d known he had them, but you’d have let him walk. Really, nothing’s changed. It’s just a measly twenty-five carats.” She kissed his cheek, then the other, then his mouth. “We’re okay, right?”
    When she settled her head on his shoulder, he stroked her hair. “Yeah, we’re okay. I might put a boot in your father’s ass if I ever see him again, but we’re okay.”
    “Good.”
    He sat, stroking her hair. There were ham