The Rescuer

  He was willing to accept all of it, that God existed, that Jesus was His son and had risen from the dead, but it didn’t change the problem he wrestled with the most—the life that came after the words ‘I’m a Christian.’ The idea of God having a personal relationship with people here on earth, for that relationship to continue for eternity simply didn’t seem reasonable. God was well…God. A relationship of any real intimacy seemed far-fetched. And when it came right down to it, if he couldn’t sort out what being a Christian meant after he said the words, it didn’t make sense to take that step.

  Meghan was one of those who came right out and called it a friendship.

  It felt like a contradiction. Most Christians didn’t live like they were best friends with God. Yet that relationship was described as the norm of what Christianity would be like. Maybe for a Moses who got the Ten Commandments or a King David who led Israel the word fit. But even if Stephen accepted it might be the norm for others, it didn’t fit what he thought Christianity would be like for him. He was lousy at playing by team rules. And no matter how he cut it, Christianity came with a significant amount of expectations. Maybe it was cowardly to say he didn’t want to try, but he didn’t want to fail. And this looked like a failure waiting to happen.

  He took the Bible with him out to the front porch and sat in the rocking chair, fulfilling his silent promise to Jennifer to keep reading until either his questions were addressed or he finished the book. He glanced at his watch. Meghan should be here within the hour. The meeting at her parents’ had to be breaking up soon. He’d invited her to stop by, and he promised Bill he’d see her safely home. He hoped she could come.

  Jenny, I’m not sure how I’m doing with Meghan. The last thing I want to do is ruin a good friendship; she’s just so…I don’t know…together with her life. I envy her the peace she’s found. And you always liked her. I wish you were around to give me some personal advice.

  He set his chair to rocking. He missed his sister. Maybe that was why Meghan had agreed to come by tonight. She had sensed how the funeral was lingering in his mind. She was able to read his mood better than he could read hers. Why can’t life be simple, Meg?

  “I’m sitting on the front porch, Meg.” Stephen saw her coming around the path by the pond, walking at such a slow pace he knew she was lost in thought, depending on Blackie to take her safely where she was going.

  She lifted her head and looked his direction. “Say where again?”

  “Twenty some feet ahead and angle two to your left. Blackie is getting distracted by the flower garden I just planted.”

  Stephen lifted a hand to Bill, watching his daughter from the edge of his property. If Meghan knew silent angels often watched her, she never commented on it. She might live in a world of darkness where it was the same day or night, but for those who loved her, it helped to know she got safely from place to place. “There’s a second chair on the porch free, we can go inside, or we can share the steps.”

  “Direct me to the chair. I’ll let Blackie loose to get some exercise.”

  Stephen reached out a hand as she came up the stairs. “Here you go.”

  He waited until she was settled and comfortable. She rested her head against the back of the chair and sighed. He handed her a glass of iced tea. “Problems?”

  “Neil left me in charge of the jewelry store, with the proceeds to be used to expand the clinic.”

  He stopped in the process of setting down the book in his lap. “That’s a very generous bequest and a big job.”

  She smiled. “My first reaction was ‘wow,’ my second, ‘what in the world am I going to do?’”

  He picked up his glass. “You’ll do fine.”

  “You better hope so, because if I say no, he left it to you to handle.”

  Stephen choked on his drink.

  Meghan reached over and slapped him on the back.

  Stephen alternated between coughing and laughing as he looked at her. “I am not letting you say no.”

  Meghan slid her hand down to his and squeezed his hand. “I may need some of your help.”

  “Whatever you need,” Stephen said. “Just as long as you keep the project.” There was nothing Meghan couldn’t figure out given some time. He set his chair in motion, rocking as he watched Blackie roam around the yard.

  “Is the sky clear?”

  “Hmm. There’s a big bright band of stars that mark the Milky Way, and the moon is very bright tonight.”

  “That fits with the image in my mind.”

  “I could never see stars like this in the city. I didn’t know what I was missing.”

  She drank the iced tea and rocked her chair in rhythm with his. Stephen let the quiet between them linger, just enjoying her presence. “Blackie’s wearing down, Meg. Come on inside and let me show you my home.”

  “I was here many times visiting Neil’s wife.”

  He stood and smiled. “Somehow I don’t think your memory of this place will be much help.” He opened the door, offered his arm, and led her inside. “The four walls and the windows are the same, but that’s about it. Jack and I removed the kitchen cabinets the first week. Since then we took down one interior wall between the kitchen and the living room. Until I figure out the layout I want, there is now one huge open room with a hallway going back to the bedrooms.” He described his plans, somewhat nervous about what she might think.

  She turned in a quarter circle as she tried to mentally visualize what he described. “No furniture?”

  “Just whatever’s in your imagination. Plus one sofa brought from my home, a stereo, and my ever-present lawn chairs for comfort. Jack still has my barrel tables for some shindig at the fire district.”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  He smiled. “Absolutely. I can recommend the couch for sitting a spell. Other than that…well at least there isn’t much you can trip over.”

  She stamped her foot on the wooden floor and listened to the echo. “I like it. Which direction to the couch?”

  He took her shoulders and turned her a little more east. “Fifteen of your little paces, ten of my strides.”

  “Show off.” She smiled and moved forward to sit down. “You’ve got big plans for this place.”

  “I do. I want my nephew or niece to spend a few weeks of his or her summers in the country. I’ve got in mind to become one very doting uncle.”

  “You’ll make a good one, Stephen.”

  “I plan to.”

  She laughed. “Nothing like a huge dose of self-confidence.”

  “You want some more of that iced tea? Your mom taught me how to make it with a jar in the sun and the whole bit.”

  “You’re falling in love with my mom.”

  “I’ve had a crush on your mom since I was twelve. You’re just now catching on?” He came back with a refill on the tea. “I need a favor.”

  “What’s that?”

  “When you decide details for what to do with the jewelry store, can you keep me in mind for Neil’s workbench? He built that one to last, and I’d hate to see it not find a good home.”

  “Sure.”

  He took a seat on the chair across from her, not wanting to push his luck with sharing the couch. “I’m glad you came.”

  She smiled back at him. “Me too.”

  He started his chair rocking again.

  “Where do we start?” JoAnne asked.

  Meghan set down the handheld tape player she’d used to record the conversation with Walter as he went over the business accounts. In the days since the funeral, she’d slowly been putting together a plan for where to begin. It was going to be a long Saturday.

  “Let’s locate the business records and paperwork first, inventory items second, appraise and evaluate third.” With JoAnne’s help, this job was doable. “We can tackle Neil’s apartment and his personal effects later. Since we know he kept some fake pieces in his display cases and the real pieces in the vault, we’ll need to have a gemologist make sure we don?
??t misclassify a piece.”

  Meghan trailed her hand along the countertop, mentally putting a picture together of the store. “Let’s find a place we can bring in a couple tables and set up a workstation and scanner and bring in a couple file cabinets to hold the records as we sort them out. I’d like you to photograph everything. We’ll need a numbering system for the jewelry so they can be uniquely tagged.”

  “I’ve got an extra case of those clear plastic bags with closure tabs,” JoAnne said. “We can use them and both slip tags around the pieces and number the bags as we take the pictures.”

  “Good. I have a feeling there will be several hundred pieces by the time we’re done with this inventory. Are you ready for this?”

  “I’m surrounded by jewelry. This is going to be fun.”

  Meghan laughed. “Let’s see what you think in about six hours. Tell me about the layout in here.”

  Neil had placed an incredible trust in her, and she was determined to do her very best job. The time it would take to do the job right—maybe it was best.

  Besides, if she was busy, she wouldn’t be spending her evenings rocking on Stephen’s porch and wondering where their relationship would go over the coming years. She’d enjoyed the evening almost too much for her peace of mind. You’re such a good guy, Stephen. Why did you have to land in my backyard? No one else compares anymore. And you’re still out of reach.

  Eighteen

  A week after Neil’s funeral, Jonathan Peters checked into the hotel on Broadway Street in Silverton making a point to chat with the front desk clerk. He remembered her from high school and even back then she had been a gossip. He wanted the news that he had arrived spread around town before he could finish unpacking. There was no hiding the fact a famous son had returned to town, and it would be worth using that to his advantage. Before long there would be a few people seeking autographs and asking about living in Europe, and the conversations would allow him to ask some questions in return and probe recent events in town.

  He took the room key he was handed, nodded to the couple getting off the elevator, and carried his two bags up to the second floor. He would have normally let the hotel staff carry his bags, but there were some items he was carrying he would rather keep in his possession.

  Neil had sold his farm. Jonathan hoped that was the last surprise of this trip. He had figured they would have to bury Neil there, that the man would never leave the land that had been in his family for decades. The stolen jewels must not be there anymore. That left the store or the strange places Neil had hidden gems in the past among his possessions. At least the heart attack would have given Neil no time to dispose of the jewels to buyers. They were still here somewhere.

  Jonathan opened his bag and shook out his shirts and hung them up in the closet. The flight back from Europe had been a dash through airports on whatever seat he could get. He was going to kill Craig for not contacting him about Neil’s death. The news had come from Mrs. Teal, calling to congratulate him for a splendid concert performance the week before in London. He sent her the recordings as a way to ensure he regularly heard news of what was happening in Silverton. She’d mentioned it in passing, a few days after Neil’s funeral.

  Mrs. Teal had been eager to pass on what she knew. Neil had left his estate for the new medical clinic, had put Meghan in charge of the liquidation. Jonathan was grateful to the man for that fact. It would be easy enough for him to stay in the loop, for Meghan was too open for her own good at times. If there had been anything out of the ordinary found in the estate thus far, it would have been on the town grapevine. It was what he wasn’t hearing that was reassuring: No stolen pieces had been found and the sheriff wasn’t investigating Neil for suspicious sales.

  He had to find the recently stolen European pieces; the older pieces couldn’t as easily be tied back to him. The diamond choker stolen in Germany led the list of gems to find. The replacement piece had been damaged less than forty-eight hours after the exchange had been made and the piece discovered to be a fake. A search for the stolen choker was underway in Europe. If that choker showed up here in his hometown, his name would be written all over the theft.

  He wanted ten hours of sleep to fight the jet lag but couldn’t afford the delay. He glanced at his watch. He bet he could find Meghan at the clinic or the store. He wanted to time his visit so he could invite her to dinner. She was his access to the hidden jewels; she just didn’t know it.

  He also had to find Craig. The man would be desperately searching for the stones. Craig acting rashly and getting caught was the real threat. If he thought it would help his own situation out, he’d talk about the years of stealing.

  Jonathan had stolen the stones over the years. If they were going to fall to anyone now that Neil was dead, it would be to him. He had already been in contact with two buyers who had dealt with Neil in the past. They were interested in buying whatever he would care to pass on. He would take them up on it. Jonathan planned to return to Europe with a fortune tucked safely away. He slipped the key in his pocket and went to scope out the situation.

  Craig could be handled. Jonathan had had a few months since his last trip to Silverton to figure out how. Craig would be handled.

  CHICAGO

  Kate picked up the ring Stephen had left with her: gold band, three diamonds and an emerald, the stones real. The initials T. R. inside. And the report had just come back verifying the piece as stolen.

  Dave pushed a salad across the desk. “Eat, love.”

  “I’m not hungry,” she replied, absently turning the ring. She pushed the open file toward her husband. “Five years ago a lady is having her ring cleaned before her thirty-fifth anniversary and learns it’s actually an excellent fake. Last month the real ring is discovered hidden in Stephen’s barn.”

  “And you said working robbery was boring.” He stabbed an olive in his salad and used his other hand to flip open the file.

  “The ring is worth a small fortune and Neil had it hidden in his barn. If he was the fence for the piece, surely he would have sold it by now. I don’t want to wrongly accuse a dead man. He acquired the piece, realized it was stolen, and tried to make sure it disappeared for a lifetime. He wouldn’t be the first honest shopkeeper to find out he had been sold stolen goods or end up in a quandary about what to do.”

  He turned pages in the file. “Maybe. But he didn’t turn it in to the sheriff communicating his suspicions. Was that the only item recovered in a strange location?”

  “So far.” She compared the ring she held with the photo of the fake ring. They looked identical. “How many thieves go to the trouble of replacing a ring with a high-quality fake?”

  “A thief who steals a lot and is covering his tracks. You don’t go to all that trouble and cost if you intend to snatch only one or two pieces. How many good-quality fakes have shown up over the last few years?”

  Kate flipped open her notepad. “I went back ten years and found two other local cases; those original pieces have never turned up. I’m still trying to get any national information.”

  “Stay with the case you have—that diamond ring. If the others are connected, they’ll fall into place.”

  “Who made the fake? How did he know how to design the piece? Who pulled off the swap? When? And where?”

  Dave smiled at her. “I’d say you’ve got an interesting case.”

  “One that may quickly become a quagmire. It’s old, and from the filed report, the owner won’t be much help identifying where and when it was swapped.”

  “Stay with where it was found; that’s the opening.”

  “If he’s deeply involved in this, Neil might have been the one making the fake pieces.”

  “A good possibility. There’s only one way to find out, and it’s not sitting here in an office. Let’s go check out that bed-and-breakfast in Silverton. You can nose around this case for Stephen quietly as promised.”

  “As long as you’re coming along off duty. No offense, but I’d rather do th
is investigation without FBI help.”

  Dave slid the file back across her desk. “You’d rather, but you won’t because I have one similar national case for you. My mob boss case where he murdered his wife Marie? Her emerald earrings, a square-cut diamond ring, and a diamond and emerald bracelet and necklace were all discovered to be excellent fakes. Only her brooch was real. Her husband thought she had been having an affair and was selling the jewelry he bought her to make a nest egg for herself before she bolted.”

  Kate stared at her husband. “Let’s try to keep the mob out of this one, okay?”

  He smiled. “It could be a coincidence.”

  “Right.” The ring in her hand felt warm now. “I may have a lead on a thief who stole from a mob boss’s wife.”

  “One step at a time, Kate. We need to know if there’s more than just that one ring among Neil’s things before we speculate on how far this might go.”

  She handed him the phone. “Make us reservations in Silverton. The last thing I need is for Stephen to be in the dark on this. If there are more pieces, he may be the first to stumble on them. And if not Stephen, then Meghan. Neil put her in charge of wrapping up the jewelry store.”

  SILVERTON

  Meghan stretched her hands high over her head, flexing her stiff back. “JoAnne, you about ready to go?” They’d been working on cataloging the gems for a week, and it felt like they had barely made a dent in the project. She couldn’t concentrate any longer tonight.

  “Just about.”

  Meghan shut down the computer and scanner and pushed her chair back under the table.

  “Anything you need me to store in the vault?”

  “No. Go ahead and lock it up.” Meghan knelt and slipped on Blackie’s harness.

  She followed JoAnne through the showroom to the front door. “Good night, Lou.”

  “Miss Delhart. Have a good evening. I’ll get the door.”

  “Thanks.” It helped, knowing there was a security guard present around the clock. She didn’t have to worry about getting accustomed to the sounds in the building. Security made sure the store and valuable contents stayed safe.