The Sinner - Molly O'Keefe Page 0,33

you tell us who you really are and what you’re doing here?” I asked, pleased with my icy tone.

“My name is Matt Woods and I’m an architect in St. Louis.”

Juliette made a big show of writing everything down.

“I’m not lying,” Matt said, eyebrow raised.

“Then you have nothing to worry about,” Juliette said, tucking her pad and pen back in her pocket.

“Why are you here?” I asked, biting out every word. “Why are you investigating us?”

“My father is Joel Woods.”

“Who?” Margot asked, sitting in the wing chair I had sat in last night. Matt’s head snapped around.

“Does that name mean something to you?” he asked.

“No,” Margot said with an indifferent shrug. I almost smiled—no one did indifferent like Margot.

“You’re sure?” he asked, his eyes like lasers under his glasses.

“Why would it?” Margot asked.

“What about The Pacific Diamond? Ring any bells? Or the Ruby?”

“Sounds lovely, but I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He took a deep breath, turning to face me. I wanted to curl up into a little ball so that not even his gaze could touch me, but I squared my shoulders and stuck out my chin.

“Last night,” he said, and I shot him a shut-the-hell-up look, which he ignored, “I told you the truth about my father. Seven years ago, he was arrested for stealing a priceless set of jewels called The Pacific Diamond, Emerald and Ruby from an ancient gemstones exhibit at the Bellagio. At some point during the drop-off, two of the jewels were stolen from my father. He was caught with the emerald but the diamond and the ruby are still missing.”

“I still don’t understand what that has to do with us,” I said.

“That was my father’s first job—he wasn’t a thief by trade and I don’t think he was a very good one. His partner, who had some experience, hired my father for his knowledge of the casino. But when they went to the arranged meeting place to exchange the jewels for their fee, three things happened. The ruby and the diamond were stolen from my father, the cops showed up…” He hesitated.

“And?”

Matt licked his lips. “Your mother was there.”

I leaned against the wall because I was suddenly light-headed. This was about my mother? He was here because of my mother? Last night—I couldn’t even finish the thought. “That’s why you kept asking about her?” I breathed.

“I thought you—” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter anymore. I was wrong and I’m sorry, Savannah.”

“You thought what, exactly?” I spat, probing to see how far his betrayal went.

“I had reason to believe she might come here.”

“Never. She would never come here.”

“And then when I got here you wanted security cameras in your garden and people kept breaking in, clearly searching for something.”

“So?”

“So.” He nearly laughed. “That’s not normal, Savannah. It seemed like you two were hiding something. Something of value.”

He turned to Margot. “Is there any chance that Vanessa might have stolen the gems then hidden them here?”

“No,” I said.

“But with the break-ins—”

“I would know if my mother was here!” I cried, then sucked in a deep breath, feeling totally out of control. “Or if there were gems hidden in my house.”

Margot nodded in agreement.

“Savannah, please,” he whispered, “understand, I think that there—”

“Get out,” I snapped, thrusting my finger toward the door. “We don’t know where my mother is and we certainly—” I laughed because it was ludicrous and frankly it was either laugh or scream “—don’t know anything about your father and stolen gems.”

“I’ll leave,” he said. “I will, I just want to apologize.”

“We heard you,” I said. “Now go.”

“Wait a second,” Juliette said, stepping into the heated air between us. “You said your father was arrested seven years ago. If Vanessa was at the drop-off seven years ago, why are you here now? Not then?”

“My father just told me the truth about having a partner and…Vanessa’s involvement in the theft. He’d been taking the blame himself for seven years.”

“Who the hell cares?” I cried. “No offense, Juliette, but the particulars don’t matter.” I stalked up to Matt, getting as close as I could stomach. “I don’t want you here.”

“You should know, Savannah.” His eyes were sad, careful, and suddenly I knew I needed to brace myself. “Your mother has been in New Orleans most of the past five years.”

I swayed and looked to Margot, who sat cold and still as a statue. “Did you know that?”

Margot shook her head.

What did it matter, I wondered, hysteria buzzing along my nerve endings. New Orleans? The