Flawless Read online

  They’d been good at it. What wasn’t good was that they’d never been caught. They hadn’t been hauled down to juvenile court, then threatened with their father’s wrath and whatever the system could do to them.

  “I’m terrified that you don’t realize what you did. Grand larceny. You could be put away for years and years. Honestly, this is no joke. And no lie—sometimes the sentences for theft are longer than the ones for murder,” she said sternly.

  They both looked contrite, but what scared her was that they still didn’t seem to comprehend just how foolish they’d been. How dangerously foolish.

  She pointed a finger at her brother. “You promised me. No more stealing.”

  “But I wasn’t stealing it. I was just...borrowing it for a while.”

  “My company works with the police,” she retorted. “Aside from everything else, think about the position you’ve put me in.”

  “You’re a psychologist who works with a bunch of doctors,” Daniel said.

  “Who work with the police,” she finished. “You—”

  Julie broke in. “It was my fault,” she said.

  “Yes, in a way it was,” Kieran said. “And then again, no. Daniel is responsible for his own behavior. Daniel, I need you to promise me, once and for all, that you’ll never steal again.”

  “Kieran...” he murmured, glancing away. “This was an exception. I did it for—”

  “Daniel.”

  “All right, I promise.” She could tell by the way he looked at her that he knew she doubted him. “Never again. I swear it on our parents’ grave.”

  That, to her brother, was a solemn vow.

  “I wonder if they’ll even miss it,” Julie said. “The diamond, I mean.”

  “You wonder if they’ll miss it? A flawless stone worth a half a million or more?” Kieran asked incredulously.

  “Like you said, there’s been a rash of jewelry store holdups in the city.”

  “Yeah. Armed men come in and wipe out half a store. Do you think Gary’s boss and coworkers wouldn’t notice if they’d been held up by men with guns?”

  She checked her watch. She had to leave now if she was going to make it before the store closed for the day.

  “What do you want me to do now?” Daniel asked her.

  “Cover for me at the pub.”

  “I’ll help him,” Julie offered.

  “No, you won’t. You’ll go home and walk your dogs. That way Daniel can say I’m dealing with something for you and it won’t be a complete lie. Declan will understand.” She stood. “And don’t you ever—ever—put me in this position again.” She stared at them hard. “I can’t believe what I’m about to do. I’m heading off to unsteal a diamond.”

  She turned away. She had to hurry because time was against her now. Pretty soon the staff would be counting receipts and logging the day’s sales as well as inventorying the jewelry and stones they’d shown that day.

  She prayed she could keep Daniel out of jail—and not land both of them in the arms of the law.

  CHAPTER

  TWO

  WALLY O’NEILL, a civilian tech employed by the FBI, was working with Craig and Mike, viewing the security footage from the jewelry stores. They could have looked at the videos alone, but Craig was glad they had Wally’s help. He was a whiz when it came to cameras, computers...anything digital.

  The security footage showed that all the robberies had been carried out in much the same way.

  Quickly, for one.

  Three men—or they looked like men, anyway—in dark jeans, hoodies and ski masks suddenly converged on the door and entered the store. They burst in with guns out. Not one of the recording devices allowed for sound, but Craig was certain that the first man to break in roared that no one had better set off the alarm or someone would die.

  No alarms had been set off, but in the last two robberies, people had died anyway.

  “Okay,” Mike said, “since they’re dressed alike, maybe they come from different directions or time it so each one is slightly ahead of the next guy to avoid calling attention to themselves. I mean, half the kids in America walk around wearing hoodies with their heads down and hands shoved in their pockets, but the ski masks are a real attention getter. I’m betting they don’t put those on till the last minute.”

  Mike was probably right about that, Craig thought. In New York City, with crowds everywhere and people walking in every direction, their own agendas in their heads, there would be no particular reason to notice someone dressed like that. And Jersey? Pretty much the same story.

  “They don’t split up when they leave, though,” Craig pointed out.

  “There’s gotta be a getaway car idling somewhere nearby.”

  “They committed the murders in Jersey. They’re either getting bolder—or they’re not the same crew.”

  “That again,” Mike muttered.

  “I might be right.”

  “You might be wrong.”

  “Yeah, I might be. In fact, I hope I am,” Craig said.

  Wally cleared his throat. “Uh, guys? What do you want me to do now?”

  “Roll the last two,” Craig told him.

  Wally hit a key and brought up the crime-scene photo from the alley. He quickly apologized. “Sorry, pushed the wrong button.”

  “It’s all right. We’re going to have to go over that, too,” Mike said.

  They all stared grimly at the photo. The woman was dark haired and wearing a cover-up over her clothing—her way of staying clean while she swept and dusted, Craig thought.

  She was lying on her side, almost as if she were sleeping. Except that a pool of blood billowed out from beneath her hair.

  Mike looked at his folder. “Ana Katrina Martinez, forty-seven. Small-caliber bullet fired at point-blank range right through her forehead. Cartridge not found and the bullet is still in her brain. The ME will supply it to ballistics right after the autopsy.”

  Craig felt a swell of emotion. Ana Katrina Martinez wouldn’t care what kind of bullet had killed her, and neither would her family. They would only care that her killer was caught. Even dead in a pool of blood, she had a kind face. Craig thought she had smiled frequently in life. “Why her?” he muttered angrily.

  “Because someone was a grade-A sociopath with no concern for anyone other than himself,” Mike said. “You’d have to be,” he added gruffly, “to kill someone just because she was no longer useful. Hell, they were probably still in their ski masks—she couldn’t have identified them.”

  Wally cleared his throat. “Stay with this image or roll the footage?”

  “Roll the footage,” Mike said.

  “So in the city they leave everyone alive,” Craig said. “Then they go to Jersey and leave a woman dead in an alley.”

  “And a man dead at his desk,” Mike added.

  “I can’t help but think it’s different perps.”

  “Just different states. I’ll bet you a twenty. No, I’ll go a hundred.”

  “It’s a bet I hope I lose,” Craig said.

  “What are your thoughts on the matter, Wally?” Mike asked.

  Wally looked up at them with surprise. Craig figured that his expertise was often sought, but not his opinion.

  “I’ve enhanced the footage as much as possible. If they’re copycats, they have the clothing and the ski masks down perfectly,” he said. “I don’t know—I just don’t know.”

  “Let’s watch again—then we can start with the interviews,” Mike said.

  “Whatever you want,” Wally said.

  “What about the murdered jeweler?” Craig asked.

  “You’ll see that on the footage,” Wally said.

  They didn’t see the death of Ana Katrina Martinez on the computer screen; no cam
era had captured that.

  They did see the death of the elderly owner of the first store. He looked up, said something and appeared to be willing to do whatever the men wanted.

  Then he was shot, and he crumpled over.

  Mike looked at the files again. “Arthur Kempler, eighty-four. He owned and managed Kempler’s Fine Jewelry for over fifty years. Never had so much as a parking ticket.”

  “They didn’t need to kill him,” Wally muttered.

  Neither Mike nor Craig disagreed with him.

  “Go back to the first robberies,” Craig told Wally.

  Wally nodded. “Right away.”

  In the earlier heists, they saw the thieves exit by way of the front door, the same way they had come in.

  Only in New Jersey had they used the rear exits, at least so far.

  “In those first five robberies—as the cameras show—they went back out into the street,” Mike said. “And they were casual about it. I figure within a few steps they had their ski masks off, and in another few steps the hoodies were gone and no one would have known they’d been wearing them at all. They didn’t hide from people—they used them. They melted in with the crowd until they got to their getaway car or the subway and left the area.”

  Craig shook his head. “Okay, let’s look at all the footage again. I’m telling you, these aren’t the same thieves.”

  “How can you be so sure?” Mike asked. “Look at the New York footage. Three of them each time. Walking in and making it all happen fast. Then New Jersey. Same outfits, same number of guys—except in the first one, the bastards shoot the owner, and in the second, one of them grabs that poor woman and drags her out the back door.”

  “No, go back—go back and look at the height differences. There—look at the first tape. Two the same height, one shorter. Now go to the first store that was hit in New Jersey. None of them are the same height,” Craig said. He looked at Wally. “Wally, sorry, run them again. Slow them down.”

  Wally obliged, and they watched the footage again.

  Mike sighed. “How the hell are you seeing that? Maybe they’re the same size—or maybe they’re not. They could be wearing different shoes, for all you know. The perspective’s so crazy there’s no way to know for sure.”

  “I just don’t think they’re the same. I think the second group are copycats. Except that they kill.”

  “What’s the likelihood of two sets of thieves with virtually identical MOs starting up at the same time?” Mike asked, exasperated.

  “Why not? Some criminal opportunist sees what the first guys are getting away with and figures he’ll give it a shot himself. Only he doesn’t give a damn about human life.”

  “Let’s watch them one more time, then start interviewing the first cops on the scene, and the staff and customers who were there,” Mike said. “Wally?”

  “Yeah, yeah, one more time,” Wally said. “And I can do comparison ratios—tell you who was and wasn’t the same height.”

  “Great. For now, freeze both of the shots I’m talking about, please,” Craig said. “Can you show them to us side by side, split screen?”

  As Wally brought up the two shots, Craig heard Mike’s phone buzzing. Mike picked it up, and Craig watched his partner’s features tighten.

  “On our way,” Mike said. “Wally, hold tight to that footage. Craig, looks like they’re at it again. We have a chance to catch them red-handed and learn the truth. Let’s go.”

  Craig stood quickly, thanking Wally again, and the two men headed out to their car.

  “Where’s it going down?” Craig demanded as they walked. “What’s going on? Did someone trigger an alarm this time?”

  “No. No alarm. People are just getting more nervous and, thankfully, more vigilant. They’re watching for men in hoodies near jewelry stores. And the thieves are right in the Diamond District this time. Sonny Burke from Atlantis Gems just called in to say he saw three men in black hoodies heading down Forty-Seventh Street. That place is a smorgasbord for diamond thieves. Damn, they’re getting bold!”

  “I’ll drive,” Craig said.

  “I’m back, Craig. I’m good. Honestly. I’ve got it.”

  “You drive like an old woman. Give me the keys.”

  Mike didn’t argue. Craig was the better driver and Mike knew it. He tossed over the keys.

  * * *

  This will all be over soon. It will be fixed. Everything will be okay, Kieran told herself.

  She had the diamond; she was appropriately dressed to shop in a jewelry store of the stature of Flawless. The store was in the Diamond District, up on Forty-Seventh, so she’d had a ways to go to get there. She would have chosen a cab with the diamond now in her keeping, but she’d been afraid of getting caught in traffic, so she’d headed for the subway.

  She’d been lucky enough to get some traveling in when her father had been alive, but she’d spent the majority of her life in New York City, even attending NYU. She’d taken the subway system all her life.

  Today she found herself looking suspiciously at everyone who boarded her subway car. She shifted and moved to a new spot at each stop. If she lost the diamond to a casual pickpocket, all her efforts to save her brother would be doomed. And with technology being what it was, she wasn’t certain that there still wasn’t some way to prove that he had taken it.

  I’m not his keeper, she thought to herself.

  But, in a way, she was. She’d been the one girl in the family. Her father had been a wonderful man, as proud of his daughter as he was of his sons—and quite ready to open a can of tuna for himself without help. But she had taken on a certain role in the house—different with Declan, of course, because he had her by two years. Like it not, she felt responsible for both her younger brothers, even though she was older than Kevin by a mere seven minutes and her baby brother by only a year.

  She’d been “the girl.” Spoiled shamelessly, according to her brothers, but...

  It seemed girls really did mature more quickly than boys, and continued doing so even as adults.

  Nope. She couldn’t go by that. After all, Julie had helped develop the idiotic and dangerous scheme.

  She arrived at her stop and made it to street level with absolutely no trouble—other than the usual rush of people. New Yorkers weren’t rude, despite their reputation, and most of the time they were actually quite pleasant and happy to help anyone who looked lost. There were just a lot of them, and it seemed that everyone was in a hurry to get where she was going. Several people said “excuse me” as they jostled past, and she said the same to several other people in turn.

  Once she reached Forty-Seventh Street, she walked along until she saw her destination, Flawless.

  She felt sad, remembering how excited they’d all been when Gary had gotten the job. He’d started working there soon after the wedding, just a little more than a year ago.

  While the shop—like many others in the Diamond District—advertised Exceptional Quality for Exceptional Prices, it was a high-end and well-respected store. It had been in the Krakowsky family for four generations; landing a job there without being a Krakowsky was no easy feat.

  But that was then, and this was now.

  In truth, she was glad that she wasn’t going to run into Gary today, given her desire to bash him over the head with something. Julie’s words had been true. She hadn’t wanted to rush into marriage; Gary had. Julie was a video game designer and loved what she did, and she’d wanted to go further in her career. She’d been all set to head to grad school in California when Gary had begged her to marry him.

  It was ironic.

  She was glad that Gary had gotten this job after the wedding. He was friendly with his coworkers, and at that moment she was glad that she didn’t know any of them.

  She heard the soft sound of the buzzer as
she entered the store. The door, she knew, was connected wirelessly to a camera that counted and recorded every entrance and exit made at the store.

  There was a large showroom filled with display cases. To her left the cases held diamonds set in yellow gold, to her right were cases with diamonds set in white gold and through an archway beyond there was a small display nook for gems of various sorts set in platinum. Beyond the counter—where some of the finest pieces were displayed—were the offices and the private rooms where salesmen sat down with important clients and served champagne while discussing the merits of the best stones. She knew all this because Gary had once described the setup for them.

  She arrived just as one of the salesmen was drawing down the inside shutters that protected the window displays at night. He didn’t challenge her entrance, however, but smiled at her.

  It wasn’t quite closing time; he was just getting ready.

  “Good evening, miss,” he said to her, smiling again.

  “I’m sorry—you’re closing,” she said.

  “Mr. Krakowsky is in the platinum room with another customer—you’re fine,” he told her.

  The salesmen here dressed in designer suits and were perfect gentlemen. This one was in his early forties, she thought, with dark brown hair neatly clipped and a clean-shaven face.

  “What can I show you?” he asked her.

  “Actually, I was looking for Gary Benton,” she said. “Is he working today? He’s a friend,” she added, almost choking on the word. “And that’s why I came—he speaks so highly of the store.”

  “No, I’m sorry. At the moment it’s just me and Mr. Krakowsky. But I’ll happily show you whatever you’d like to see.”

  He was still standing too far from the display cases for her to pull off her sleight of hand.

  She smiled sweetly. “I heard you have some exceptional loose diamonds.”

  “Of course,” he told her, grinning. “We are in the Diamond District, after all.” He offered her his hand. “I’m Matt Townsend. How do you do?”