“Of course not,” Kat said just as the rain turned to sheets, hard and cold. Hale gripped her hand and pulled her onto a familiar stoop, under the shallow overhang of the roof above. She shivered, the wooden door at her back, while Hale leaned close, sheltering her, searching her eyes.
The windows of the brownstone were black, and the street was empty. There were no cars, no nannies pushing strollers or pedestrians jogging home. It felt to Kat as if she and Hale were the only two people in New York City. They could steal anything they wanted.
But I don’t steal anymore, Kat told herself. Don’t steal anything at all.
“No one’s home,” she told him.
Water clung to the corners of his mouth. “We could pick a lock. Jimmy open a window.”
“You know, I bet there’s a hide-a-key around here somewhere,” she tried to tease, but Hale had moved even closer. She couldn’t see the street. She couldn’t feel the rain. Her passport was in her pocket, and when he pressed against her, she could almost feel the stamps burning, telling the world that she’d been away from home a long time.
Hale’s hands were on her neck—warm and big and comforting. Strange and new and different.
Kat feared she hadn’t been gone long enough.
“Kat,” Hale whispered. His breath felt warm against her skin. “When you take this job, don’t even think about stealing that emerald without me.”
Kat tried to pull away, but the door was there, pressing against her back. “I’m not going to—”
But then she couldn’t finish because nothing was against her back. Kat found herself falling, reaching for Hale, but her hands grasped only air until she was flat on her back in the doorway.
“Hello, Kitty Kat.” Kat stared up at a familiar pair of long legs and a short skirt. Her cousin Gabrielle crossed her arms and stared down. “Welcome home.”
Kat hadn’t realized how cold she was until she found herself lying on the floor of the old brownstone. There was no fire in the fireplace, no lights in the parlor or on the stairs. For a second, it felt almost like a job, as if she shouldn’t be there. And maybe, she realized, she shouldn’t be.
“We didn’t know anyone was home,” Kat said.
Gabrielle laughed. “I could tell.”
Even in the darkness, Kat could see a glimmer in her cousin’s eyes. A glimmer of what, however, she didn’t dare to ask. She just watched Gabrielle turn and saunter down the long hall, moving through the shadows, weightless as a ghost.
When Kat climbed to her feet and followed, Hale at her back, she heard the squeaky floorboards, the moaning of the old house in the storm. It seemed too big. Too dark. Too empty.
“Wow. He really left,” Hale said, dismayed.
“Yeah.” Gabrielle reached the doorway to the kitchen and exhaled a short quick laugh. “I don’t think Uncle Bobby was too happy about it, either—no one thought Eddie would actually go all the way to Paraguay. But you’ve probably heard all about that.” She studied her cousin through the dim light. “You have talked to your dad, haven’t you?”
“Of course I have,” Kat said, reaching for the light switch.
When the lights flickered to life, Kat had to squint against the glare. She half expected her uncle to mysteriously appear, spoon in hand, complaining that she was late and the soup was cold.
“How is Paraguay?” Hale asked, oblivious to the ghost that Kat was sensing, squeezing past her and into the kitchen as if he’d been at home there his whole life.
“Okay, I guess,” Gabrielle said with a shrug. “Or as okay as a job this big ever goes. All hands on deck.” She sat down, threw her feet onto the table, and eyed her cousin. “Well…almost all hands.” She pulled a knife from her boot and an apple from a bowl and began to peel it in one long steady spiral. “So, are you guys gonna tell me what the big secret is?” She glanced from Kat to Hale then back again. “Because it looked like you were getting fairly cozy out there, talking about something. Or maybe you weren’t talking.…”
Kat felt herself start to blush, but before she could say a thing, Hale opened the refrigerator and announced, “Kat’s going to steal the Cleopatra Emerald.”
“That’s funny,” Gabrielle said. It took a moment for her knife hand to pause in midair. “It is funny, isn’t it?”
Kat’s gaze was burning into Hale. “I never said I was going to do it,” she told him. “I never said—”
“Of course you’re going to do it.” The refrigerator door slammed, and Hale turned. “I mean, it’s what you do now, isn’t it? Travel the world, righting wrongs. A one-woman recovery crew.”
Kat wanted to reply, but Gabrielle’s feet were already off the table, and she was leaning closer to Kat, knife in hand.
“Tell me he’s joking, Kat.…Tell me you are not seriously thinking about stealing the Cleopatra Emerald.”
“No,” Kat said. “I mean…well…we just met this woman who says the emerald was really discovered by her parents—”