Thunderbolt over Texas (9 page)

A cold chill snaked up Sydney's spine. “What are you saying?”

Grandma impatiently swiped at a tear with the back of her hand. “I gave it away.”

Oh, no.

“She demanded the Thunderbolt and I gave it to her.”

Sydney's entire body cringed.

“She said Rupert was the first-born Erickson, and so he was entitled. She promised she'd leave us alone forever.”

“She blackmailed you?”

Grandma nodded, her voice quavering. “And I was a willing victim. To save my marriage, I betrayed my family.”

Sydney closed her eyes. “Did it work?”

Grandma gave a short laugh. “It worked. It worked for thirty years. Except…”

Sydney dropped her head forward onto her chest. There was nothing she could say, nothing anybody could say. The Thunderbolt was gone.

In her mind she saw a flash of her mother's blond hair, the twinkle of her silver locket—the heirloom that had been snatched away from Sydney. She didn't know for sure, but she thought it was the day before the fire. She was five years old, and it was the last day her mother had held her. The last day she'd seen the silver locket, or anything else her family had ever owned.

“Can you get it back?” Grandma asked in a small voice. “Because if you could get it back…”

Sydney opened her eyes and nodded. “Yes,” she promised, although she had no idea how she was going to keep it. Then a vow came from the deepest recesses of her being. “No matter who has it. No matter where it is.”

Hope rose in Grandma's eyes, and a little color came back to her cheeks. “I made a mistake.”

“No, you made a decision.”

“How can I explain—” Grandma's voice broke. “The boys…”

“Cole and Kyle don't have to know.” Sydney shook her head. “Your secret is safe with me.”

“K
atie?” Cole held the phone to his ear as he watched the dust billow out behind the doctor's deep-treaded SUV tires.

“Hey, Cole,” his sister-in-law answered cheerfully around the whistling of a teakettle. “What's going on? Where was Sydney last night?”

“Can you come down to Grandma's right away?”

“Why?” The whistling subsided.

Cole shifted away from the closed bedroom door, dropping his voice to make sure he wasn't overheard. “Because we need you.”

A beat went by before Katie spoke. “What's wrong?”

“Is Kyle there?”

“Cole, what's wrong?”

“It's not…” he began. Not what? Not bad? Not major? Not terrible?

The reality was, it was all of those things and more. He straightened the black-and-white picture of his grandfather that hung above the mantel. “Listen, I'd really rather tell you guys in person—”

The tension rose in Katie's voice. “To hell with that.”

Cole gripped the carved wood fireplace mantel. “You sure Kyle's not there?”

“He's in the barn. Give!”

“Fine. Okay.” Where to start? He couldn't just blurt out that the brooch was missing. “Sydney and I stayed over in Wichita Falls.”

The concern in Katie's voice vanished, replaced by interest. “You did? But I thought…”

“Not for that.”

“No? Because, you know, she's really a—”

“Can you just come down to Grandma's?”

“Is Sydney still with you?”

“Yes.”

Katie paused and he could almost hear her smiling. “Sure. We'll be right there.”

“Good.” Cole squeezed his eyes shut, trying to alleviate the pounding between his temples.

The door to Grandma's bedroom squeaked open and he punched the off button on the phone.

He turned to face Sydney. “She okay?”

Sydney nodded, blinking glassy, reddened eyes, rubbing her upper arms as if the air-conditioning was too cold for her. “She's fine.”

“You okay?” he asked, peering more closely. Was she upset about her career? That would be understandable.

“I'm perfect.” She waved away his concern, as if it was a gnat buzzing around her head.

Okay. No sympathy. Fine. “What did Grandma say?”

“She said the brooch was at the ranch for several months in 1978.”

“Does she know who faked it?”

“My best suggestion is you talk to the local people who were around back then. Maybe—”

“So, she doesn't know.”

Sydney took a sharp breath, as if he was annoying her again. “Maybe you could find out who saw it, if anyone seemed to have a particular interest in it…”

Cole told himself to ignore her mood. She had to be disappointed in the turn of events. Her career was on the line, and he couldn't blame her for thinking about herself.

He nodded. Interviewing the neighbors seemed like as good a place as any to start.

Sydney turned to gaze out the front window, tugging the elastic out of her hair and finger-combing it to redo the ponytail. “While you talk to the local people, I'm going to California—”

“California?”
Where the hell had that come from?

She nodded, still gazing at the snowcapped mountain peaks on the far side of the valley. “Gwen is, uh, sending a list of likely antique dealers. There's a concentration of them in California, and I can check—”

“Uh-uh. No way.” Cole shook his head. He acknowledged that she was a valuable asset to the search, but he wasn't letting her take over completely. It was his family, his property. She simply had a passing commercial interest.

Sydney turned to face him. “What do you mean no way?”

“
I'm
going to California.”

“You don't know a thing about antiques.”

“If you go, I go.”

“But somebody has to stay here.”

“Kyle can interview the neighbors.”

Sydney jerked back. “Kyle?”

“He and Katie are on their way here.”

“Now?”

“Yes. Now.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You told them?”

“No. But I'm about to.”

“But…”

“But what?”

Sydney bit down on her lower lip, the wheels of her brain obviously churning a million miles an hour. “I just think the fewer people who know…”

“Kyle's my brother.”

She got a funny look in her eyes.

Was she worried?

Afraid?

Scheming?

Would he ever be able to trust this woman again? She couldn't have predicted the brooch had been faked. But Kyle had pegged her as an opportunist. Was she trying to make this latest turn of events work for her?

“I think this'll work better if you stay here,” she said, her gaze darting away from his.

“Not going to happen, Sydney.”

“But—”

“Kyle can do the home front. I go with you.”

“I, uh, work better alone.”

He took two steps toward her. “Tough. Get used to me. Because I'm your new partner.”

 

Cole just had to come to California.

He had to be underfoot. He couldn't have stayed home and interviewed the neighbors like a good little cowboy.

Sydney wriggled beneath the desk in her hotel room
at the Sands in Oceanside, searching for the power outlet for her rented laptop. Why did they always have the electrical plug stashed behind furniture? Did they cater to contortionists?

It took all her strength to inch the desk away from the wall. Then she yanked out the lamp cord, plugged in her converter and shimmied her way back up to the chair.

She pushed her hair off her face and shot an uneasy glance at the connecting door as she flashed up the power. The front desk had given them adjoining rooms, but she hadn't opened the door, and Cole hadn't knocked.

Right now, all she wanted was to get Gwen's e-mails downloaded. Neither Cole nor Gwen knew Grandma's secret, and handing Gwen's leads to Cole in careful sequence was the only way Sydney could get the job done.

They
were
here canvassing at antiques stores, just as she'd told him. But Oceanside was also the city where Harold's illicit lover, Irene Cowan, had once lived.

As soon as Sydney ditched Cole, she was heading two blocks down to city hall to take a look at the historical property records. The new tax rolls were online, but Irene Cowan wasn't a current property owner. So if a trail existed in property records, it was going to start on microfiche.

While the blue bar edged its way along the bottom of her computer screen, a knock sounded on the adjoining door. Sydney stood up, silently urging the e-mail download to hurry.

Cole knocked again.

The word “complete” came up, and Sydney snapped the lid on her laptop before crossing the room.

Cole stood in the doorway in a crisp, white shirt, a burgundy tie and a beautifully cut charcoal suit with polished, black shoes. He was freshly shaved and his hair was neatly
combed. If the clerks in the antique stores were female, Sydney was pretty sure they had a shot at getting information from them.

“I thought we'd get more cooperation if we looked like big buyers,” he said.

Big buyers nothing, the staff would be too busy flirting with Cole to care whether or not they'd make a sale.

Sydney glanced down at her black jeans and the cropped, lacy top that was streaked with dust from her foray under the desk. She was definitely outclassed.

She opened the closet and took an ivory suit in one hand and a little black dress in the other. “Professional or flirtatious?” she asked.

His gaze moved back and forth. “What usually works best for you?”

“Professional,” she said. Then she paused. “No. I'm lying.” She hung the suit back up and closed the closet. “Flirtatious wins hands down.” She rounded the privacy wall to the powder room.

Cole laughed behind her. “I know it would work on me.”

“Yeah? Well, you're easy.”

“So is most of the male population of this country.”

“There's a list of antique stores on the desk,” she called, bailing on this conversation before it went bad.

She wiggled out of her jeans and peeled off her blouse, turfing the white bra that would show at her shoulders. “I thought we'd start on Zircon Drive,” she called.

“Does Gwen think one of these dealers has seen the Thunderbolt?” he asked in return.

“Nothing specific so far.” Sydney ran a brush through her hair and dug into her makeup bag.

“So, what exactly are we doing here?”

“We take the picture of the fake around to the employees and see if they recognize it.”

“And if they don't?”

His voice was closer, and Sydney quickly glanced around for the dress. Not that she was afraid he'd come in. He was way too much of a gentleman for that. It was more that his voice and her naked body were a potent combination.

She slipped the dress over her head, the silky fabric teasing her breasts on the way down.

“Sydney?”

“Then we move on to the next store,” she said in a voice that was more than a little husky.

Cole was silent for a moment. “You really think this is going to work?”

“I don't know,” she answered honestly.

“You almost ready?”

“Just putting on my shoes.” She brushed her hair one more time and popped a pair of diamond studs into her ears before heading out to meet him.

His gaze strayed up and down her clingy outfit. His expression gave away nothing, but her skin prickled as if he actually touched her.

“We should go,” she said, forcing her thoughts to the search instead of her hormones.

Cole stared at her a minute longer. Then he cleared his throat. “Right. Zircon Drive.” He abruptly turned and headed for the door.

 

“This is ridiculous,” said Cole as they exited from the fourth Oceanside antique store. Despite Sydney's cleavage and Cole's sexy baritone, none of the staff admitted having seen or heard of the Thunderbolt.

“We've barely started,” Sydney countered, knowing that no matter what they wore or what they promised, their odds of finding information were almost nil. She was feeling guiltier by the hour for keeping him in the dark about the real search.

“We could blow off a year like this,” he said.

“You and I are only one part of the investigation,” she argued. “Gwen is checking Europe, and Kyle is interviewing your neighbors.”

“While you and I are wasting time.”

Sydney skirted around a group of teenage boys who strutted three-wide on the sidewalk in the opposite direction. She hop-stepped in her high heels to catch up to Cole. “Give it a chance.”

“We need more manpower,” he said as the oncoming crowd parted around him. “I'm hiring a P.I. firm. Somebody national, with lots of investigators.”

She ducked in behind him, following in his wake as she fought a spurt of panic. A dozen private eyes? Sticking their noses into the investigation? They'd make it impossible to keep Grandma's secret.

“Let's wait and see instead,” she suggested.

“Wait and see what?”

The crowds thinned and she moved back to his side. “Wait and see what Gwen comes up with.”

He peered down his nose at her, obviously unconvinced.

“Before we do anything rash,” she elaborated. “Okay?”

“Hiring a P.I. firm is
rash?
”

“I think we need to focus our effort.”

He turned his palms up, fingers spread wide in a gesture of incredulity. His voice rose as they angled toward the curb. “There's nothing to focus
on.
”

“You're so impatient.”

Cole glared his frustration while he unlocked the passenger door. “Impatient? Excuse me, but the Thunderbolt is worth half a million dollars.”

Sydney folded herself into the passenger seat, adjusting her dress on the hot leather as Cole clicked the door shut.

She hadn't quantified it from the money angle yet. But the real Thunderbolt represented one of the first documented uses of diamonds as ornamentation in Europe, and the jewels themselves were dozens of carats. It was impossible to put a price on that.

Cole dropped into the driver's side and slammed the door. He cranked the engine and turned the air-conditioning up to full. “For half a million dollars, I think I can be forgiven for a little impatience.”

“Fine. You're forgiven.”

“And we hire a firm.”

“No. Not now. Not yet.”

Sydney's cell phone rang.

She could feel Cole working up a counter argument as she hunted through her purse. She hoped it was Gwen with something,
anything.
They needed a bogus lead or a false rumor to distract Cole.

She pushed the talk button. “Yes?”

“Well, well, well,” Bradley Slander drawled through the grainy speaker. “You've been holding out on me, babe.”

Sydney stilled, cursing under her breath, eliciting a look of surprise from Cole.

“I'm not your babe, Slander.” Her voice grated into the mouthpiece as she turned toward the passenger door in a vain attempt to keep the conversation private.

“The Thunderbolt of the North?” Bradley continued. “That's big even for us.”

She flicked her hair back from her sweaty forehead.
“There
is
no us.” How had he found out so fast? Who did he bribe?

“Oh, there's an us, Sydney,” said Bradley. “We're inextricably connected, both cosmically and financially.”

“Get over yourself.”

“Where are you?”

She glanced back at Cole. He was watching her intently, his hand poised on the stick shift.

“None of your business,” she said.

“Gwen's bush league, Sydney,” said Bradley.

“Gwen is brilliant.”