Stolen Memory. Virginia Kantra
not,” Simon agreed.
“I certainly don’t,” Laura said. “Are you saying you kept rubies in your lab?”
“Solid-state lasers use synthetic ruby rods to emit energy in a specific wavelength,” explained Simon. It felt good to know something. “Basically chromium doped aluminum oxide of a higher purity and quality than natural gemstones. Some of my research has focused on new methods for creating those rods.”
She blinked. “You mean, you make fakes?”
“Cultured gemstones,” Dylan corrected. “Simon developed a flux growth process that creates crystals without bubbles or thermal strain lines. And the depth of color is amazing. With the proper cutting and machining, his rubies are virtually undetectable from natural stones.”
“And they’re missing,” Laura said.
“Apparently,” Simon said.
All that research, lost. With his memory gone, how long would it take him to retrace his steps, to duplicate his work?
“How much?” she asked Simon.
“Excuse me?”
“How much were they worth?”
“The investment in time alone—”
Dylan laughed shortly. “You’re asking the wrong man, sweetheart. He had over a hundred stones stashed in that safe at slightly over a carat each. Vivid saturation. Almost no inclusions. I’d say we’re looking at a market value of almost half a million dollars.”
“But they’re paste, right?” Laura asked. “I mean, they’re good quality, but they’re still fakes.”
Dylan shook his head. “Chemically, those rubies are identical to the real deal. There’s not one jeweler in ten who could tell them apart. Which is why getting the patents and developing a marketing strategy is so important.”
“It’s irrelevant,” Simon said. “We’re not in the business of selling jewelry.”
“You’re not in the business of selling jewelry,” his brother shot back.
“And it’s my business.”
A nasty little silence fell.
Simon wondered if most of his conversations with his brother ended this way. If so, it would certainly explain why Dylan hadn’t called.
His pleasant face set. “You did agree to let Vulcan at least examine the stones,” he said tightly.
Did he? He could have. He didn’t remember.
“So, what’s the problem?” Simon asked.
“The problem is they’re missing,” Dylan said, his voice rising. “And I’ve got to wonder— Ah, hell.” He broke off, again thrusting his hand through his hair.
“Do you think your brother is complicit in the stones’ disappearance?” Laura asked.
She was supposed to be on his side, damn it. He wanted her on his side. Her question caught him like a whack across the shins.
But it didn’t trip his brother at all.
“No, I don’t. Of course I don’t,” Dylan said. “But it’s hard to see how else this could have happened. This place has better security than the airport.” He wheeled to face Simon. “What about Quinn? Did he see anything?”
He sounded interested. Eager. Innocent?
Or anxious to divert the blame to someone else?
Cold settled in the pit of Simon’s stomach. He didn’t know enough about his brother or their relationship to even guess.
“He wasn’t with me that night,” Simon said.
“You mean they let you out without a keeper?”
“One of the guards came with me from Chicago.”
“So where was he?”
Simon breathed in deeply. He had to say something. Something intelligent, something that wouldn’t betray his loss of memory.
“Pete Swirsky is being sought for questioning at this time,” Laura said, unexpectedly coming to his rescue.
“Does that mean you think he did it?” Dylan asked.
The detective’s slim body stiffened. “It means he’s being sought for questioning.”
“What do you mean, sought?”
“According to E.C.I.P., he was scheduled to go on vacation this week,” Laura said. “He hasn’t reported for work since Wednesday.”
“So, he just happens to go missing at the same time as the rubies?” Dylan shook his head. “I don’t think so. It’s been four days. Why haven’t the police picked him up yet?”
Because they hadn’t known about the rubies until now.
They hadn’t known because Simon didn’t remember.
And Simon didn’t trust his own brother enough to tell him so.
He searched Dylan’s fair, handsome face as if it held the clue to their estrangement. Why didn’t he trust him? What else didn’t he remember? Was the fault in Dylan or in Simon himself?
He waited for Laura to say something, to defend herself and her department against his brother’s criticism.
But all she said was, “The police are pursuing every available lead at this time.”
“So how come you haven’t found him yet? It’s not like there are a lot of places to hide in a town this size.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Swirsky lives in Chicago.”
“So put the Chicago police on it.”
“It’s not their jurisdiction.”
“Yeah, but at least they’d get the job done.”
Anger whipped through Simon.
“Back off. I made the call. It was my call to make.”
The certainty in his own voice surprised him.
But his brother appeared to take it in stride. “Yeah, that’s what you always say.” He gave Laura a long look up and down. “I guess I can’t blame you for wanting to keep her around. Let me know if you find anything.”
He strolled out.
Laura watched him go, her chin up and her hands in her pockets. Simon could see the outline of her knuckles through the shiny blue fabric.
“Son of a bitch,” Simon said.
She jerked one shoulder in a shrug. “Don’t worry about it. I’m the only female officer on a small-town police force. I’ve pretty much heard it all before.”
He admired her self-possession. But Dylan’s chauvinistic attitude irked him. “Not from my brother.”
“You’re not responsible for what he says.”
“Aren’t I?”
He didn’t know. He felt he should be.
She faced him squarely. “Listen, I’ve got a kid brother, too. And God help us both if I tried to take responsibility for him.”
Her gaze was clear and direct as a punch. He felt its impact in his gut, harder than recognition, deeper than desire. His breath went.
How long they stood there, staring at each other, he didn’t know.
But then her thin face colored. She looked away, breaking their connection. “I’ve got to go.”
His heart was pounding, his chest felt tight, and he hadn’t touched her, hadn’t kissed her, hadn’t…