Diamonds & Deception Page 8

  “Is there anything I can do?”

  Jessica shook her head. “No, but I may need to get Sadira’s keys from your sister.”

  “I think school lets out around two thirty. Do you need her number?”

  “Evans has it.”

  “You’re sure there’s nothing I can do...?”

  “I’ll let you know.”

  “I feel bad. I thought I was giving you an open and shut case. Now it kind of looks like a stinker.”

  “That’s the way the cookie crumbles sometimes. We all know it.” Her phone rattled on the table.

  I thought I recognized the phone number across display. “Isn’t that Silverthorne?”

  Her finger hesitated over the accept and dismiss icons.

  “You can take it outside if you need to. Don’t hold off on my account.”

  Jessica picked up and headed out the glass door. I watched her pace in front of the window where I sat. The conversation didn’t take long and soon she returned to her seat, slipping the phone in her handbag.

  “Anything of interest?”

  She studied me for a moment, tapping a finger on the table.

  “I understand if you can’t—”

  “Sadira never substituted counsel, she simply added my firm. Technically, you’re still her lawyer and bound by privilege. Did you know that?”

  My eyes widened in surprise. “I figured I was bound by privilege, but I wasn’t aware she left me on the paperwork.”

  “Against my associate’s advice. That’s the other thing that worries me about this girl. She’s stubborn.”

  “Technically, you could share your information.” I eyed my friend’s pinched mouth and drawn features. “And . . . you’re trying to figure out if you should.”

  “Not because I don’t trust you to keep it confidential, and not that it really matters.”

  “Then what?”

  “I worry your impulses might get you in trouble.”

  I couldn’t help the chortle that escaped. “Seriously, I think you’re overestimating my loyalties to this woman. She’s a friend of my sister’s.” I made a dismissive motion with my hand. “No friend of mine. Right now, she’s a client I was unaware I had. Do you need me to recuse myself and get off the roster?”

  “Would you, if I asked?”

  “Of course.”

  “I may do so. That call was from your friend, Rick. They’ve found a good bit of dirt on Tazim. Misty was correct, he’s got a gambling habit. And Vijay was brought in to save the jewelry store. Apparently, he’s an old family friend. From what Rick could find, a few weeks ago, Tazim was invited to a private poker game at National Harbor with a handful of high rollers. They think he was brought in as a pigeon to be plucked. Apparently, he’s a bit reckless at play and a poor bluffer.”

  “How much did he lose?”

  “Seventy.”

  I whistled. “Looks like a hundred grand in diamonds would help pay that off. Did you find his banker?”

  “They’re still looking into it, but a Russian mob-affiliated loan shark was mentioned.”

  “What about his broken arm?”

  Jessica leaned closer and lowered her voice. “He told the ER doc he slipped and fell in the bathroom. Security cameras show that a black SUV, no plates, dropped him off around 1:00 a.m., less than a block from the hospital. It looks like he might have been shoved out.”

  “Could he have broken the arm when he fell out of the car?”

  “Silverthorne doesn’t seem to think so. Not with the type of fracture he obtained.”

  “In other words, the broken arm was a warning to pay up.”

  “Looks like it.”

  I wiped my mouth with a napkin and pushed the empty plate aside. “What’s your next move?”

  “Review the video from the store,” she replied, sipping her iced tea.

  “Jillian said there isn’t any footage within the safe. So, he could have easily pocketed the diamonds and walked out without anyone seeing, just as he’s accused Sadira of doing.”

  “We’re looking to make sure it hasn’t been tampered with. Silverthorne also wants to see if any interesting characters visited Tazim at the store within the past month few months.”

  “Ah—” the lightbulb in my brain lit up “—I see. Maybe the bookie came to him.” I pinched my chin. “Do you think he paid the debt directly with the diamonds, or does he have to liquidate them?”

  “Don’t know, but you’re right. It’s something to check into.” She took a moment to text Rick, her thumbnails tapped rhythmically on the screen. “Maybe he can find a batch of loose diamonds on the black market that match our missing ones.”

  “Can you subpoena the GIA certifications for those diamonds?”

  “We don’t have to.” She shook her head while continuing to type and talk at the same time. “The detectives took them. Evans has already requested it for discovery.”

  “If Rick finds something on the black market, a specialist could compare it to the paperwork to identify the diamonds. Yes?”

  “That’s what I’m hoping.” Jessica tossed the phone back on the table, finished the last bite of her sandwich and washed it down. “You know, if you ever decide you want a job with a law firm, give me a call.”

  I laughed.

  Jessica didn’t.

  I sobered. “You’re kidding. Right?”

  “Not at all. You’re smart, loyal, trustworthy, and you think differently than a lot of my other attorneys. I believe you’d be a benefit to the firm.”

  “Well . . . thank you, Jessica. I’m . . . honored you think so.” Her company—Geiger, Williams, and Portia, LLC—was repeatedly ranked in US News and World Report, Best Law Firms edition. “However, criminal law isn’t my specialty.”

  “We’d find a place for you, and you’d bring contacts my other lawyers don’t have. You’re also a woman.”

  My brows went up at her last statement.

  She shrugged. “We could use some more estrogen in the firm. If you ever want to sit down and talk about it, let me know.”

  The offer was tempting because I knew I could make a ton of money; even so, it wasn’t my passion. However, I tucked the idea away in case things changed. “I will.” We finished up and parted ways.

  AS I PLOWED THROUGH a backlog of emails, the theme song from the movie Grease sang out—my sister’s ring tone. She’d played Frenchie her senior year in high school; it was still her favorite movie. “Hey, Jilly. What’s happening?”

  “Not much. You called me.”

  “Right.” I closed my office door for privacy purposes. “I ran into Jessica Williams today and she told me about Sadira’s arraignment.”

  “Yeah? Did she tell you we couldn’t find the passport?”

  “She mentioned it.” I spun my chair around and stared out the window at the neighboring building, a red brick affair. “What’s that weird tone in your voice?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I’m your sister. Spill.”

  “It’s nothing. Sadira asked me to do a favor for her.”

  I didn’t like the sound of that. “What kind of favor?”

  “Apparently, another one of her side jobs is as a courier. She asked me to make a delivery for her.”

  “What kind of delivery?”

  “Some sort of package.”

  I didn’t like this new development at all, but I knew if I flat out told my sister not to do it, she’d clam up. I had to tread lightly. “Did she say what was in the package?”

  “No.”

  “And . . . you’re thinking . . .”

  “Whatifit’sthediamonds?” The sentence came out in a rush.

  I replied with slow deliberation, “Do you think it’s the diamonds?”

  “I don’t know what to think!” A huff blew across the line. “I mean, she’s been a good friend at the school. She’s always backed me up at staff meetings. She remembers my birthday. And I’ve never had cause to distrust h
er.”

  “I see.” I spun back around to my desk. “Until now?”

  “No. Maybe distrust is too harsh. Doubt or—or misgiving is a better word for it.”

  I picked up a pen and started doodling on a random envelope. “And you’re not sure if you should do this favor for her?”

  Silence.

  “When are you supposed to make the delivery?”

  “Tomorrow evening. Seven o’clock.”

  I did not like this at all. On the other hand, another kernel of an idea formed as my sister spoke. If I wanted Jillian’s cooperation, I’d have to continue to be conciliatory rather than bossy, as she’d often accused me of being when we were kids. “I think . . . maybe . . . I should come with you.”

  “Oh, thank heavens. I thought you’d try to talk me out of it.”

  “Nope,” I said firmly. “I think you should do it. It’ll give us a better idea of what’s going on with her.”

  “Okay. Swing by my apartment around six. That will give us enough time.”

  After Jillian hung up, I called Jessica. She didn’t pick up, so I left a message. I debated making the next call for about ten seconds before dialing.

  Rick answered on the second ring. “Karina Cardinal, what can I do for you?”

  “Hey, remember our last conversation?”

  “I do. Have you changed your mind?”

  “No. I think I might need your services.”

  His cheerful voice—well, cheerful for Rick—turned serious. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing is wrong. My sister has agreed to make a pickup and delivery on someone else’s behalf, and we’re both a little leery. I want to make sure it’s . . . safe.”

  “Is there some reason you believe it’s not?”

  I blew through my lower lip, stirring my bangs. “Okay, here’s the deal, I know you’re working with Jessica on Sadira’s case. Officially, I’m also one of her lawyers, so I’m bound by privilege. We’re unsure what this ‘delivery’ is all about, but I think Silverthorne should be there. You know, in case it helps with the investigation.”

  “Okay.”

  “That’s it?”

  “That’s it,” was his succinct reply.

  I’d expected probing questions. It still rattled me how efficient Rick could be with his words. “Who will you assign? Josh?”

  “Joshua is currently on another assignment. Jin is available.”

  I would have preferred Josh because of his lighter, more open personality. Jin’s disposition could best be described as somber. He rarely cracked a smile; though I’d been successful in getting an occasional laugh out of him. However, from past adventures, I knew Jin’s competence was top-notch, and there was the adage about beggars and choosers. “Jin is fine. I don’t have his direct phone number.”

  “I’ll have him text you.”

  “Thanks.”

  “And, Karina—”

  “Yes?”

  “Be careful.”

  “I’m always careful,” I said offhandedly.

  “No. You can be impulsive, headstrong, and stubborn.”

  I sputtered.

  “I consider them some of your best qualities, but they have a tendency to get you in trouble.”

  “I’m sure I don’t know what—”

  He hung up before I could finish.

  Two compliments today from people I respected. Must be a record. Although, Rick’s praise was rather backhanded. I supposed I should take what I could get.

  I realized Sadira’s case had taken up so much of my free time, I’d completely forgotten my fight with Mike and how I’d left him swinging in the wind. Jillian had been correct about my lack of grudge-holding capabilities. It was time to let Mike off the hook. Though I didn’t appreciate the invasion of my privacy, I knew it wasn’t going to be a deal breaker between us. Riding my good mood high, I dialed his number; however, my pink nail hovered over the send icon as our parting words flashed through my head. Mike had warned me about staying out of trouble while he was gone. Not that I was in trouble, but he might see my interactions in this Sadira case as courting that fine line. Especially with the new escapade Jillian and I were set to embark upon tomorrow evening. I’ll admit the last time he’d been out of town on a case, I’d left him a panicked voicemail as an assassin pursued Rodrigo and I up interstate 95. Was it better to simply wait and talk to him when he returned?

  The other thing stopping me in my tracks—it hadn’t occurred to me to contact Mike on Saturday when Jillian dragged me into this mess. Nor the past few days as the case developed. Granted, he was out of town and basically unreachable. The last time he went for training, I had to wait for him to contact me. And, technically, we were fighting. Still . . . I’d turned to Silverthorne.

  Would I have reached out to Mike if he had been in town and accessible? Did I even want to tell him what was going on? Or would it be better to tell him ex post facto? After all, tomorrow’s delivery could be absolutely nothing.

  The screen turned black as my phone went to sleep while I dithered.

  Was my fear of Mike’s reaction the reason I hesitated to call him, or was it his job at the FBI that held me back?

  “I’ll call him after our courier job tomorrow,” I said under my breath, tossing the phone back onto my desk.

  Chapter Nine

  “It’s a hotel,” Jillian said.

  Sure enough, a large chain hotel about half a mile from Tyson’s Corner rose high above us as Jillian pulled into the parking lot, and we rolled to a stop in Sadira’s Audi. The luxurious leather hugged me in a cloying fashion, or perhaps it was simply the fact that, against my better judgement and over my objections, we were in a car we had no business driving. I wasn’t aware we’d be taking Sadira’s high end car until I’d arrived at Jillian’s apartment and found the vehicle in her assigned parking space, my sister waiting inside, the air conditioning blowing at full speed. At first, I refused to get in and insisted my sister get out. However, after a hissing and immature back-and-forth with Jillian, I solved the situation with a quick text to Jessica. Her response reassured me; the police had found the vehicle in their parking lot and taken a crack at it. No diamonds. I still didn’t like driving around in a possible felon’s vehicle. However, my sister had made a good case for using the car as it was affiliated with Sadira’s courier account.

  “Where am I supposed to go?” Jillian asked. “Do I go inside?”

  “Didn’t you get directions?”

  “Just the address and a name. Trevor.”

  “Well, we’re driving Sadira’s car. I suspect they’ll recognize us. Pull on up to the front door. See if we get any action.” Glancing in the side mirror, I was reassured by what I saw. Jin, driving a dark sedan, cruised into the parking lot and backed into a space where he could keep a visual on us. I had failed to notify my sister about our tail, hoping I’d never have to tell and she’d be none the wiser.

  Jin had stopped by my office earlier in the day and offered to download an app to my phone so Silverthorne could track me. Having had such an app put on my phone, without my permission, in a former life, I wasn’t too keen on doing it again, and politely declined the invitation. Accepting my refusal with equanimity, Jin then offered a small black device not much bigger than a man’s thumb. It had a green light and a fat button.

  “This is a GPS tracking device,” Jin had informed me. “Put it in a pocket or your purse. Press the button for emergency.” I accepted the compromise, tucking the doo-dad into a pocket in my purse.

  “Jilly, I think that man is waving to us,” I said, and pointed.

  A young guy in ripped hipster jeans, a blue button-down, and unmarked navy ballcap indicated an open parking spot. He knocked on my darkened window, and it slid silently down when I pushed the button. His blue eyes were at half mast, but his facial expression clearly showed we weren’t who he’d been expecting.

  Frowning, he asked, “Where’s Red?”

  I sent a slanting glance at my sister.
>
  “She’s sick and sent me to take care of her job today,” Jillian answered.

  He took off his hat, and a thatch of bleached blond hair fell over his blue eyes. “I don’t know about this,” he mumbled, pinching his lower lip.

  “Are you Trevor?” I asked.

  “Yeah.”

  Jillian remained mute, so I took the lead. “I understand we’re going someplace in Great Falls. You have the address, yes?”

  Pushing the hair off his forehead, he planted the hat backward. “Yes.”

  “You’ve got a package for us to deliver, right?”

  “Right.”

  “What’s the problem?”

  “You’re not Red.”

  Jillian leaned forward. “I told you, she’s sick.”

  “Red usually drives this car. It’s her car.” He scratched at the five o’clock shadow on his cheek.

  My sister continued speaking with deliberation, “Yes. It’s still Red’s car. She’s sick. She cannot drive today.”

  “And she sent you? She told you what to do?” He pinched his lip.

  “Of course. It’s not rocket science,” Jillian snapped.

  Pulling a cell phone out of his back pocket, he replied, “Maybe I should call J.T.”

  I rolled my eyes in irritation. Trevor couldn’t have been more than nineteen or twenty, and he didn’t seem to be the sharpest tool in the shed. “Look, you have a package. We’re willing to drive it.” I made a driving motion with my hands. “Either give it to us or move on. I haven’t got time for calls to J.T. Quit monkeying around. Are we doing this or what?”

  I didn’t know if it was my irritation or reference to the illusive J.T., but whichever it was seemed to snap Trevor out of his indecision. I’d learned long ago, if you pretended you knew what you were doing, people tended to assume you did.