Bray and I were right: The diamond had been in that safe-deposit box. Wallace reallyhadhad it the whole time.The whole goddamned time.He’d kept it to keepme. If Olena had recovered it that night in the hotel, or even knew it was in policecustody, she wouldn’t have spent the past decade plotting my capture and probably murder. I would have been free. Sure, maybe I would have gotten arrested alongside my father that night, but maybe I would have had a lenient judge who took pity on the con man’s poor daughter just weeks into legal adulthood and let me off easy. Maybe I wouldn’t have spent the past ten years being Lauren, Vivian, Megan, Shelly, Quinn, Jessica, Noelle, Sloane, Rain, Veronica, Jackie, and all the other women I’d pretended to be.Maybe, I would have gone to college, gotten a dog, lived in a cute little apartment I’d decorated myself. Maybe I would have met a man who kissed me and meant it like Bray—maybe I’d even have met Bray.
Memory of that case from five years ago, that day deep in the Oregon woods when I tried to quit, shoved its way to the front of my mind. I’d asked Wallace if he knew where the diamond was, and he’d lied to my face. He’d lied to keep me trapped.
I abruptly stood from the dining chair I’d sunken into, with hot tears in my eyes and hands in fists. Anger raged through me. In that moment, if a ghost walked through my door, I would have broken his neck out of sheer fury.Come at me, I dare you.I’d been passed from the arms of one man who used me, my father, straight into another’s. I’d known I was a pawn, but I hadn’t knownwhyall these years. Not the real reason, anyway.
A guttural growl ripped out of me. I was furious at the lies I’d been told, the men who’d controlled me. And this apology from Wallace? This letter from the grave? What was I supposed to do with it? I gripped it between my shaking fists, considering ripping it to shreds. But something stopped me. Something about the way he’d said sorry—the way he’d used his last moves on earth to protect me. My own father had held a gun to my head when given the opportunity to reconcile, and Wallace … he’d sacrificed himself.
I sunk back into the chair, fully crying now. “God damn it, Wallace,” I sobbed. I wiped my eyes with a sniffle, furious and heartbroken all at once. How dare he make me care. How dare he spend a decade being selfish only to commit the most selfless act in the end. I sniffled again and smoothed the letter on the tabletop. The words swam in a blur.
I’m doing everything in my power now to hand you your freedom.I read the line again.Just like you, that rock is too beautiful to be locked up. I moved it, and you, for your safety. I have a feeling you’ll find a way to get your hands on it.
“Way to be cryptic, Wallace,” I muttered. The diamondhadbeen in Houston, but it wasn’t anymore. He’d moved it the day he’d died, just like we’d thought, based on Ramesh’s records. But where did he send it?
I flipped the letter over to see if there was anything more on the back. It was blank. The envelope had a postmark for five days ago, so he must have put it in the mail the same day he moved the diamond. I sighed when I realized I would have gotten it, had I been home and not hiding out in Bray’s parents’ condo. It would have saved us a trip to Houston. But if we hadn’t gone to Houston, Bray and I never would have had that night together.
My body flushed with heat at the memory. I bit my lip.
The urge to call Bray and ask him for help solving this latest mystery thrummed through me. But his mother had forbidden him from seeing me. She may have even deactivated his phone. And besides, telling him would only lead to him continuing to help find the diamond, and if he found it, I’d still be trapped. We’d turn it in to evidence and get Olena off my back, but I’d still be linked to the DSA. Still under the control of another man. I needed a way to get to it on my own. To free myself from her, from the DSA. From everyone. Then I could finally give Javi that call he’d been waiting ten years for, sell it, and disappear. This had always been the plan. Bray would hate me for it, but it had to be done.
I read Wallace’s words once more:Just like you, that rock is too beautiful to be locked up. I moved it, and you, for your safety. I have a feeling you’ll find a way to get your hands on it.
Wallace knew better than anyone I could find ways to get my hands on things. He’d used me for that exact reason for ten years. So where was this diamond now?Too beautiful to be locked upsuggested it wasn’t hiding. Where did diamonds go when they weren’t hiding? Better yet, where didgiantdiamonds go when they weren’t hiding?
There was no way he pawned it to a jeweler and had it strung on a necklace. That thing could only have been mounted in a tiara for a queen, unless he pulled aTitanicand really did have it created into a monstrously obscene piece of jewelry. Maybe I was looking for the Heart of the Ocean …
I shook the thought and dug deeper for a more logical explanation.Too beautiful to be locked up.When diamonds weren’t jewelry, they were often on display. Where? In a museum, an art gallery, a private collection of a very wealthy individual. Had Wallace somehow passed it off to one of those places? And how in the world was I supposed to know which one?
With a sigh, I flipped the letter over once more. Still blank on the other side. “What the hell, Wallace,” I muttered. I picked up the envelope, looking for more clues, and my eyes snagged on the postmark. I hoped I didn’t have to make another trip to Houston to solve his little puzzle, but maybe he’d taken it from the safe-deposit box to a museum there. I went to pull out my phone to googleHouston museums with diamondsto start hunting one by one, when something else on the envelope caught my eye.
The return address in San Francisco.
Wallace had never lived in San Francisco, as far as I knew. He’d been mostly nomadic, like me, with the closest thing to a home base being in Washington, D.C. Why would this letter have a return address for San Francisco—especially if he’d been in Houston when he sent it?
My fingers twitched with intrigue as I pulled out my phone. I entered the address into a search bar and gasped at what the results returned.
The San Francisco Museum of Contemporary Culture.
I clicked the link and was greeted by a polished homepage advertising an annual gala this weekend. I navigated to theAbout Uspage and learned the museum opened three years ago with an aim to bring cultural diversity and history to the Bay by showcasing rare and interesting artifacts. I scrolled past the funders and beneficiaries and clicked on theNew Exhibitslink. My breath lodged in my throat as I waited for the next screen to load.
Could this really be it? Did Wallace have the diamond sent to a museum right in my new backyard?
The page finished loading, and I got my answer in the form of the big, shiny jewel staring back at me.
“Oh my God,” I said, half laughing, half wildly impressed he’d pulled it off. I quickly read the caption under the photo.
DONATED BY AN ANONYMOUS BENEFACTOR, THIS RARE FIFTY-CARAT DIAMOND WILL BE THE CENTERPIECE OF OUR ANNUAL GALA.
I sat back against my chair with a small chuckle. Of course. Anyone in possession of such a jewel would want to show it off. Maybe Wallace pulled some DSA strings to get it featured as their gala centerpiece, or maybe it was sheer pride that the owners wanted to brag about their new piece. Big, shiny, expensive objects did strange things to people.
No wonder yorkiedork123 hadn’t heard anything on the dark web. She was looking in seedy places, not at local museums. The same probably went for Olena. The criminal underworld wouldn’t expect stolen jewels to resurface as gala centerpieces. I wouldn’t have thought to look for it there either if Wallace hadn’t directed me to it.
Which meant I had a head start.
It hit me all at once what I was staring down here. A good old-fashioned heist. The diamond was on display in a museum, and it was the key to my freedom. Wallace had all but drawn a map to it for me, and, in his own words, he knew I’dfigure out how to get my hands on it.
Well, challenge accepted.
A familiar tingle twitched my fingers. The opportunity to sneak in somewhere—somewhere big—hadn’t crossed my path in years, but it was my favorite kind of challenge. The problem was, the job wasn’t something to go alone. I needed a team to pull off a jewel heist. And where was I going to get one of those now that I’d been banished from Bray and sequestered back in my suburban prison?
