Because when there’s a ninety-seven-karat emerald involved, the woman holding it is easily lost in the spotlight.
Even a woman like Maggie.
“There she is.”
Only hours before, Kat had started to fear that the woman on the other side of the street was a figment of her imagination—a nightmare, a ghost. Of course, technically, Margaret Brooks didn’t exist, but Kat had only to watch the woman, hear her big brass voice, and know that she was no phantom. Kat thought of what Constance…or Maggie…had dared to do, and a part of her couldn’t help but think that Maggie…was legend.
She certainly couldn’t ignore the irony that after chasing Maggie halfway around the world, fearing that she had disappeared like smoke, they had found her within twenty minutes of landing at the small private airstrip just outside of Nice.
Of course, it helped that the country of Monaco was no larger than a village, less than one square mile of rocky coastlines and pricey hotels. But the real reason they had found her so easily, Kat had to admit, was that Maggie was making absolutely no effort to hide.
Photographers snapped and passersby shouted, and Maggie waved to them all with gusto as she walked from elegant shop to elegant shop, dining at the best restaurants, taking tea with only the best people.
Kat hated her. And Kat envied her. But mostly, she tried to imagine what it would be like to be her—to be that good, that smart, that sure. Thief years were like dog years, her father had always said, so by that count, Kat felt much older than fifteen; but standing on the street that night, staring through the windows of the five-star hotel that Maggie was temporarily calling home, Kat couldn’t help feeling naive and inexperienced and…young. And she didn’t exactly like it.
When her phone began to ring and she looked down to see it was her father calling, she felt young for entirely different reasons.
“You’re going to have to talk to him eventually, you know.”
She turned to see Hale standing behind her, jacket thrown over his shoulder, looking like he’d just stepped out of a movie.
Kat took one last glance at the phone, then slipped it back into her pocket. “As soon as he hears my voice, he’ll know something’s wrong.”
“And that’s a bad thing because…”
“He can’t do this for me, Hale. This is my mess. I’ve got to clean it up.” The sun had set, and as they walked toward the beach, Kat could see the moon rising over the Mediterranean. It was quiet there. Still and peaceful, as good a place as any to say, “And that’s why I’ve been thinking…you should go.”
Kat stopped suddenly. She felt Hale almost slam into her, saw the way Gabrielle and Simon watched from five feet away. Everyone was looking. Everyone was waiting. She felt like the most conspicuous thief in the world when she told the boy beside her, “You were right, Hale. It was a bad job. It was a bad call. You were right to leave.”
“Kat…” Hale tried to reach for her, but even in the sand, Kat was quick and sure on her feet, and she moved nimbly away, leaving Hale with nothing but a fistful of salty air.
“Thanks for coming back and helping me find her and all, but…” She looked at Gabrielle, who stood leaning against Simon, still bruised and almost broken. “I think I’ve got to take it from here.”
Kat didn’t know where the stone was or how to steal it. She didn’t know if she could best Maggie or how. All she knew for certain was that no one else was getting hurt because of her. She was sure right up until the point when Hale said, “No.”
“What?” Kat said, spinning on him.
“I said no.”
“What do you think’s going to happen when you and Simon and Gabrielle don’t show up in Uruguay?”
“Paraguay,” the three of them corrected in unison.
“The whole family’s supposed to be there.” She turned to Simon. “Do you think your dad won’t notice when you don’t come back?” She looked at her cousin. “You think your mom and Uncle Eddie won’t send out a search party looking for you?”
The three of them stood silent, suddenly unable to answer, so Kat smiled at Hale and Gabrielle. “Both of you knew stealing the Cleopatra was a bad call, so it wasn’t your mistake.
Simon, you weren’t even in the country, which means this isn’t your problem. None of you. So you should all go. You can cover for me and—”
“No,” Hale said again, just as flat and twice as certain.
“You don’t get it, Hale. They’re not gonna leave the Antony Emerald just lying around—even if it isn’t the real one.”
“And we’re really only good at the ‘lying around’ jobs,” he countered.
“She’s already got the auction set. The clock is ticking.”
Hale inched closer. “Timing is everything.”