Chapter 2 - THE DIAMOND THAT WASN’T MINE
“Take it off.”
Rafe’s voice was so controlled that it frightened me more than shouting would have.
Around us, the Hartwell ballroom had gone unnaturally quiet.
A hundred wealthy guests stood beneath chandeliers and winter garlands while every television screen displayed the accusation about my father.
But Rafe was watching only the blinking red light at my throat.
“I said don’t touch it,” he added.
“You also said take it off.”
“I’m going to.”
I backed away.
“No.”
His eyes met mine.
“Iris.”
“You lied about who you were. You know something about my father. Now there’s something blinking inside a necklace that was in my possession all day. Forgive me if I’m done following instructions.”
For half a second, something almost human moved across his face.
Regret.
Then Nico appeared beside us.
“Boss, we need to clear the room.”
Rafe nodded once.
“Quietly.”
The gallery’s security director started moving guests toward the west entrance.
Preston remained ten feet away, pale and silent.
Martin Kessler was nowhere in sight.
That bothered me.
Rafe slowly lifted both hands.
“I’m going to open the clasp.”
“What is it?”
“I think it’s a transmitter.”
“You think?”
“I’m trying not to lie to you again.”
That stopped me.
“Fine.”
He stepped behind me.
His fingers never touched my skin.
The clasp released.
Rafe lowered the necklace carefully onto a velvet-covered display table.
The red light blinked again.
Nico leaned closer.
“Tracking device?”
“No.”
Rafe studied the center setting.
“Camera.”
My stomach turned.
“A camera?”
“A very small one.”
“Someone has been watching me?”
“Possibly listening too.”
I thought about everything I had said that night.
Every conversation.
Every name.
Every moment Rafe and I had been alone.
Then I remembered something worse.
“That stone wasn’t there when I put the necklace on.”
Rafe looked at me.
“You’re sure?”
“I set every stone myself.”
I pointed.
“The center diamond had a tiny feather inclusion on the lower right. Eleanor knew about it. It’s documented on the appraisal.”
The stone on the table was flawless.
Someone had switched it.
Nico muttered something under his breath.
Rafe said, “When was the necklace out of your sight?”
“Tonight? Never.”
“Before tonight.”
I thought.
Then my stomach dropped.
“This afternoon.”
“Where?”
“My studio.”
“How long?”
“Maybe twenty minutes. I went downstairs for coffee while my assistant finished packing.”
Rafe’s gaze sharpened.
“Assistant?”
“June Mercer. She’s worked with me for four years.”
“Does she have access to the cabinet?”
“Yes.”
“Alarm codes?”
“Yes.”
“Camera system?”
“Yes.”
I heard the suspicion in his silence.
“No.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t have to.”
June was sixty-two, divorced, perpetually carrying peppermint candies, and had loaned me twelve hundred dollars when my furnace died two winters ago.
“She wouldn’t do this.”
Rafe looked at the necklace.
“Then somebody wants us to think she did.”
That was the first thing he said that made me feel better.
It lasted three seconds.
Nico held up his phone.
“We found Kessler.”
“Where?”
“East stairwell. Unconscious.”
My heart kicked.
“Is he alive?”
“Yes.”
Rafe turned.
“Iris stays with me.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“You are if the person who put that camera in your necklace is still inside this building.”
“I can take care of myself.”
His eyes dropped briefly toward the blinking stone.
“Tonight suggests otherwise.”
I hated that he had a point.
We found Kessler sitting against the wall near the east stairs with an ice pack pressed to his temple.
He looked terrified.
“What happened?” I asked.
His eyes jumped to Rafe.
“I was attacked.”
“By whom?”
“I didn’t see.”
Rafe crouched in front of him.
“You watched Iris’s necklace eleven times tonight.”
Kessler swallowed.
“I’m an acquisitions director.”
“You weren’t admiring the craftsmanship.”
Kessler’s face changed.
“I noticed the center stone.”
I froze.
“What about it?”
“It was wrong.”
My anger disappeared.
“You knew?”
“I suspected.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I thought you switched it.”
The accusation landed harder than I expected.
Kessler continued quickly.
“The Ashford piece is insured for one hundred thousand dollars. If a designer substituted a synthetic center stone before the exhibition—”
“You thought I was committing insurance fraud.”
“I didn’t know what to think.”
Rafe stood.
“And Preston?”
Kessler blinked.
“What about him?”
“You spoke to him near the service corridor at 10:50.”
Kessler looked at me.
Then away.
“Preston asked whether the necklace could be removed without damaging the clasp.”
My chest tightened.
“Why?”
“He said Eleanor wanted to know.”
“That’s a lie.”
“I know that now.”
Rafe’s jaw hardened.
We found Preston near the coatroom trying to leave.
Nico blocked the door.
Preston turned on me immediately.
“This is insane.”
“You asked Kessler how to remove my necklace.”
His expression shifted.
Only slightly.
But I saw it.
“Iris—”
“Why?”
“I was trying to help you.”
“With what?”
He glanced at Rafe.
“That man is manipulating you.”
Rafe didn’t react.
I did.
“Answer the question.”
Preston exhaled.
“Someone contacted me two weeks ago.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“What did they want?”
“Information about tonight.”
My stomach went cold.
“And you gave it to them?”
“They knew things, Iris.”
“What things?”
“About us.”
“There is no us.”
“About when there was.”
He rubbed a hand over his face.
“They sent me photographs. Your studio. Your apartment. My house.”
Rafe stepped closer.
“What did they ask?”
“Whether she would wear the Ashford necklace.”
“And?”
“I said probably.”
My throat tightened.
“You told them.”
“I didn’t know they were planning a robbery.”
“Then why send me upstairs?”
Preston’s silence answered.
I felt sick.
“They told you to.”
His voice dropped.
“They said nobody would get hurt.”
“You believed that?”
“No.”
The word came out raw.
“I was scared.”
For the first time that night, Preston didn’t look smug.
He looked ashamed.
“I thought if I got you upstairs, someone would swap the necklace and leave. That’s all.”
“You were willing to let them steal my work.”
“I thought insurance would cover it.”
I stared at him.
“You always did think money fixed everything.”
His face flinched.
Good.
Then Rafe asked the question I had forgotten.
“What did they have on you?”
Preston looked at me.
“My father’s company has been hiding losses for eighteen months.”
There it was.
Not cruelty.
Fear.
Still unforgivable.
But suddenly understandable.
“They threatened to expose him.”
Rafe’s expression remained hard.
“Whoever contacted you knew the gallery, Iris’s schedule, the necklace, and your family finances.”
“Yes.”
“Anything else?”
Preston hesitated.
Then reached inside his jacket.
Nico moved instantly.
“Easy,” Preston snapped.
He removed a folded piece of paper.
“I found this in my car yesterday.”
He handed it to me.
It wasn’t a note.
It was a photocopy of an old photograph.
My father stood outside a jewelry store I recognized from childhood.
Dunn & Daughter.
Except I wasn’t in the photograph.
Rafe was.
Much younger.
Maybe twenty.
Standing beside my father.
And between them was another man.
I knew that face too.
Eleanor Ashford’s late husband, Charles.
On the back, someone had written a date.
December 14.
Sixteen years ago.
The night before my father died.
I looked at Rafe.
“You knew him.”
“Yes.”
My hands shook.
“You stood beside him the night before he died.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Rafe looked toward the photograph.
“Because your father called me.”
“For what?”
His answer came quietly.
“To tell me someone was stealing diamonds through the Hartwell Gallery.”
My breath caught.
“Who?”
“He never got the chance to tell me.”
I almost believed him.
Then Preston spoke behind us.
“That’s not what the police report says.”
I turned.
He was staring at the photograph.
“My father kept copies of the old Hartwell records.”
Rafe went completely still.
Preston swallowed.
“Daniel Dunn didn’t die the night after that picture.”
“What are you talking about?”
Preston looked at me.
“The police report says your father was already under investigation.”
“For what?”
He hesitated.
“For stealing the same diamonds Rafe says he was trying to expose.”
Then Nico’s phone vibrated.
He looked down.
His expression changed.
“Boss.”
“What?”
“The guy we caught downstairs had something sewn into his coat.”
Nico opened his palm.
A small silver watch rested there.
Old.
Scratched.
Stopped at 2:17.
I stopped breathing.
Because I had seen that watch every day of my childhood.
My father had worn it until the day he died.
May you like
And engraved across the back were three words I had not seen in sixteen years.
FOR DANIEL — IRIS.
