A Magnificent Crime (39 page)

It was four thirty in the morning, still dark and chilly, with no sign of daylight yet. Paris was illuminated with thousands of lights that reflected off the water. Things had grown quiet, apart from the sound of the Seine lapping against the stone walls that contained it. Hulls of riverboats groaned faintly as they rubbed against the ancient stone. The Pont Alexandre III curved gracefully across the river from where we stood.

Jack turned to me and began to speak. “Cat, I—”

He stopped, interrupted by the rumble of a motorcycle. Ethan appeared on the bridge. He drove down the ramp beside the river, stopped on the cobbles, and swiftly climbed off the motorcycle, rushing to me.

“Montgomery, are you okay?” he asked, his face rife with concern as he looked me over. “I heard something about a shooting—”

“I'm fine,” I said. “Physically, anyway.”

It became obvious that it was just the three of us. Everyone else had melted away. My skin crawled with the awkwardness of the situation.

“Cat, let me check your hand.” Jack moved in closer, examining my bleeding hand, which I must have scraped on the cobbles at some point.

“Don't crowd her, Barlow. Give the woman some space,” Ethan said.

Jack spun and glared at Ethan. “Excuse me?” he said.

“Okay, you two,” I said. “Just stand down a little.” I took a deep breath and brushed a strand of hair out of my face.

We were all safe. It was over. But there was still one more Herculean task I needed to complete. I bit my lip; this was not going to be easy. But I knew what I had to do.

“Listen, I don't know if this is the right time . . . but I feel the need to clear the air about some things,” I said.

I looked at the Parisian skyline, the Eiffel Tower spearing the sky. How things had changed since the last time I stood by a river with these two in the middle of the night. Months ago—a different river, a different city. And I was different, too. At least, my feelings were.

“You both mean a lot to me. In fact, I know I couldn't have made it through all this without either of you.”

“Especially me,” said Ethan without missing a beat. His mouth twisted in a wry smirk. I laughed a little.

“But the fact is, I think I need some time to be alone right now.”

An awkward silence followed.

I looked carefully at them both. Ethan shoved his hands in his pockets and looked away.

Jack's jaw tightened. He looked at me for a few long moments. And then he nodded. “I think it's for the best. I think that's exactly what you need.”

Ethan cleared his throat. “Can't change your mind?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

I smiled weakly and shook my head.

He shrugged. “Well,
I
think you're making a mistake, Montgomery. A grave mistake.” His voice carried a faint note of teasing. And then he grew serious again. “But if that's what you need, then I can respect that, too.”

A lump stuck in my throat. I loved them both. How was that even possible? They were so different. So wonderful in their ways, but entirely incomparable. Like chocolate and pizza.

“I think I'm going to just walk for a little. Okay?” I said. There were no more dangers tonight. Nothing to be afraid of.

I could see Jack struggling with an urge to protect me, to take me home.

Instead, he nodded.

“Be careful,” Ethan said to me. And with that, the two of them went their separate ways, Ethan climbing back on his motorcycle, Jack heading to his car.

I walked back along the Seine alone. The breeze ruffled my hair, and I gazed at the lights reflected in the river. A gust of wind carried the ever-present smell of bakeries just starting their day, impossibly early. I took a deep breath.

Paris was the City of Lights. A fabled city. Just like the diamond that had only minutes ago been in my possession. The cursed diamond that had saved my life.

I reached into my pocket, and my hand closed around something flat and smooth. I pulled out my tarot card: the Star. I stared at it for a few moments, then tossed it into the Seine.

I had conquered my fear, and I had faced my own mortality. Fear did not own me anymore, and death was not going to have me. Someday, of course, it would find my door. But that day was not yet.

Not just yet.

I would like to thank all the people whose lives were touched—for better or for worse—by the Hope Diamond: Jean-Baptiste Tavernier, Marie Antoinette, Louis-Francois Cartier, Evalyn MacLean, Harry Winston, and U.S. Postman James Todd. Their stories are more incredible than any fiction I could have dreamed up.

 

I want to thank my agent, Sandy Lu, my editor, Peter Senftleben, and the incredible team at Kensington Books.

 

A giant hug of gratitude goes to my critique partner Karma Brown, for making everything better. Heartfelt thanks go to Eileen Cook and Melissa Cutler for helping me navigate the bewildering waters of authorhood.

 

Thanks to the Surrey International Writers' Conference, and the SIWC community at large, for providing encouragement, a safe haven, and an annual writerly paradise that has encouraged this writer to dream impossible things.

 

Kisses to my boys for being patient with their mama when she needed to disappear under her laptop for just a few more minutes. Hugs to Disney Channel and Lego, for buying me extra slivers of writing time.

 

I will forever thank my partner in crime—my husband Ken—for supporting me right from the start.

 

And thank you to the city of Paris. No explanation required.

Kim Foster is the author of the Agency of Burglary & Theft Series, a series of novels about a professional female jewel thief. Prior to writing thrillers about thieves and spies, Kim obtained her degree in medicine, and she has been a practicing family doctor for fifteen years. (Don't worry, it doesn't make much sense to her friends and family, either.) Online, you can find her blogging about her left-brain, right-brain mash up on
www.kimfoster.com
. Kim lives with her husband and their two young boys in Victoria, British Columbia, where she's hard at work on her next book. And drinking a ridiculous amount of coffee.

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Copyright © 2014 by Kim Foster

 

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ISBN: 978-1-6018-3065-4

 

First Kensington Electronic Edition: June 2014