Maya smiled faintly.
“That may be the best thing anyone has said to me today.”
Brooks returned the smile.
Then her phone rang.
She answered.
“What?”
She listened.
Her expression changed.
“I'll be there.”
She stood.
“What's happening?” Maya asked.
Brooks hesitated.
“The bracelet that was supposed to be in the vault is missing.”
Maya stood too.
“How?”
“We don't know.”
“Then someone is inside this operation.”
Brooks looked at her.
“Yes.”
“And they know what they're doing.”
“Yes.”
Maya looked toward the hallway.
“Does Richard Vellori know?”
“He knows.”
“Patricia?”
“She knows.”
Maya picked up her handbag.
“Then I'm leaving.”
Brooks frowned.
“You're free to go.”
“I know.”
“You should probably go home.”
Maya shook her head.
“I have another idea.”
“What?”
“I want to know why someone chose me.”
Brooks stared at her.
“That's dangerous curiosity.”
“I design buildings.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“I spend my life asking why people put things where they put them.”
Maya took out the receipt.
“The bracelet wasn't supposed to leave the store.”
“No.”
“But someone made sure I left with it.”
“Yes.”
“Which means the important thing isn't the bracelet.”
Brooks slowly understood.
“The person carrying it.”
Maya nodded.
“Exactly.”
The next morning, Maya went to Vellori again.
This time, she wore black.
No ivory dress.
No jewelry.
No makeup beyond what she needed.
Richard Vellori met her at the entrance.
“You came back.”
“I said I would.”
“I appreciate that.”
“You shouldn't.”
He frowned.
“Why?”
“Because I didn't come back for you.”
She walked inside.
Patricia Wells was waiting.
She looked exhausted.
“I owe you an apology,” Patricia said.
Maya stopped.
“Yes.”
“I was wrong.”
“Yes.”
Patricia swallowed.
“I made an assumption.”
“You made a decision.”
Patricia lowered her eyes.
“That too.”
Maya looked at her.
“Why?”
Patricia's expression tightened.
“I thought I recognized the pattern.”
“What pattern?”
“A woman comes into the store. She asks for an expensive piece. She pays with a card. Something doesn't match. The security system flags the transaction.”
“That happens often?”
“No.”
“Then why did you assume?”
Patricia hesitated.
“I shouldn't have.”
Maya studied her.
“No. You shouldn't have.”
Patricia looked away.
Maya noticed again.
But this time Patricia did not seem defensive.
She seemed ashamed.
“I was wrong about you,” Patricia whispered.
Maya answered quietly.
“You were wrong before you knew anything about me.”
Patricia nodded.
“I know.”
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then Maya asked:
“Who is Thomas Bell?”
Patricia's face changed.
“He's one of our most important clients.”
“How important?”
“He owns Bell Capital.”
“And why was his bracelet used in this?”
Patricia looked toward Richard.
Richard answered.
“Thomas Bell's bracelet was insured for two hundred thousand dollars.”
Maya frowned.
“That's not the value of the bracelet I bought.”
“No.”
“So someone wasn't trying to steal it.”
“No.”
“They were trying to move something else.”
Richard nodded.
“Possibly.”
Maya looked at the security cameras.
“Who knew about Thomas Bell's bracelet?”
“Management.”
“Security?”
“Yes.”
“Sales?”
“Some employees.”
“Anyone outside the store?”
Richard hesitated.
“The insurance company.”
Maya turned.
“And?”
Richard didn't answer.
“Mr. Vellori?”
He finally said:
“Thomas Bell's office.”
Maya felt the pieces beginning to move.
“Then that's where we look.”
Thomas Bell's office occupied the thirty-eighth floor of a glass tower overlooking the river.
He was sixty-one, gray-haired, controlled, and accustomed to rooms becoming quiet when he entered them.
He did not appreciate Maya's questions.
“This is absurd,” he said.
Maya sat across from him.
“Someone used information about your bracelet to involve me in a police investigation.”
“My attorneys can handle that.”
“Then let them.”
He stared at her.
“Why are you here?”
“Because I want to understand why someone would risk all this.”
Bell leaned back.
“I don't know.”
“Do you have enemies?”
He laughed.
“Everyone who makes money has enemies.”
“Do you have someone inside your company who knows your private transactions?”
“My executives.”
“Who handles security?”
“Daniel Cross.”
Maya's eyes narrowed.
“Daniel Cross?”
“Yes.”
“Where is he?”
Bell frowned.
“At home, I assume.”
“Do you trust him?”
The older man looked at her.
“I trust no one completely.”
“That's probably why you're still rich.”
Bell almost smiled.
Then his expression became serious.
“Ms. Carter, I don't know what you're looking for.”
“I think someone wants something from you.”
“What?”
“I don't know yet.”
“And how do you intend to find out?”
Maya stood.
“By asking the questions nobody wants to answer.”
That evening, Detective Brooks called Maya.
“We found something.”
“What?”
“The camera outage at Vellori wasn't caused by a system failure.”
Maya sat up.
“What was it?”
“Someone logged into the system remotely.”
“Who?”
Brooks paused.
“An account belonging to Daniel Cross.”
Maya stared at the wall.
“The security director?”
“Yes.”
“Then you found him.”
“We found an account.”
“Not the person.”
“Exactly.”
Maya thought for a moment.
“Detective?”
“Yes?”
“Check something for me.”
“What?”
“Find out who purchased the second bracelet.”
Brooks went quiet.
“Why?”
“Because I don't think the thief wanted the bracelet.”
Maya looked at the ivory dress hanging on the back of her bedroom door.
“I think they wanted me to carry the evidence.”
The Man Behind the Glass
Daniel Cross was not at home.
He had not been at home since the previous evening.
His wife told police he had received a phone call around seven.
He left without explanation.
He took no luggage.
No passport.
No clothing.
Only his laptop.
His phone had been turned off.
That made him the prime suspect.
But Maya was not convinced.
“He's running,” Detective Brooks said.
“Maybe.”
“You don't think so?”
“I think running tells us he knows something.”
“That's usually enough.”
“Not for me.”
Brooks sighed.
“You're becoming a detective.”
“I hope not.”
“Why?”
“I like sleeping.”
They sat in a small café near the river.
Brooks had spread photographs across the table.
Daniel Cross.
Thomas Bell.
Vellori's security system.
Patricia.
The sales records.
And one photograph of a man Maya had never seen before.
“Who is that?”
Brooks pointed.
“Evan Price.”
“Who?”
“Independent security contractor.”
Maya studied the photograph.
He was forty-five.
Thin.
Dark hair.
Ordinary face.
The kind of face people forgot five minutes after seeing it.
“What does he do?”
“He audits security systems.”
“For Vellori?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Two weeks before your purchase.”
Maya looked at the photograph again.
“What did he find?”
Brooks flipped a page.
“Several vulnerabilities.”
“Such as?”
“Remote access.”
Maya's expression hardened.
“Could he access the cameras?”
“Yes.”
“The inventory system?”
“Potentially.”
“The sales records?”
“Potentially.”
“Could he manufacture a duplicate transaction?”
Brooks nodded.
“With the right credentials.”
Maya leaned back.
“Then why isn't he your suspect?”
“Because he's gone.”
“Gone where?”
“Mexico.”
Maya frowned.
“Convenient.”
“Very.”
Brooks pushed another photograph across the table.
“This was taken at O'Hare.”
Evan Price was walking through the airport.
Beside him was Daniel Cross.
Maya stared.
“They know each other.”
“Apparently.”
“And Thomas Bell?”
“Cross worked for him for twelve years.”
Maya's mind raced.
“Then maybe Bell isn't the target.”
Brooks nodded slowly.
“Maybe Cross is.”
“Or maybe someone wants us to think he is.”
Maya looked at the photographs.