“Maybea man and woman worked together,” I offered for argument's sake, crouchingbeside him.
“Hm.”
Herdark, filigree-printed luggage was stacked between the heavy panels of a purplevelvet curtain. It had struck me before, but it hit harder now, how perfectlythe pile of suitcases was displayed, in size order and framed in luxury. It wasso picturesque and pleasing to the eye, it seemed sinful to disturb them atall.
“Myparents gave her these at her bridal shower,” I said, reaching out with shakingfingers to touch the largest suitcase, and run my hand over its texturedfabric. “She returned Matt's set but kept hers. She said she liked them too muchto get rid of them, even though she never really expected to go anywhere.”
Alecsaid nothing. Instead, he stood and pulled out a pair of gloves from his coatpocket. He put them on, then grabbed the first bag from the pile and laid it onthe bed. The zipper was pulled with a metallic buzz and the lid was flippedopen without a single ounce of care. Without warning, he began to rifle throughits contents. Gracie's underwear was shaken out, one by one, before beingtossed into a heap on the bed, as I watched, still crouched on the floor.
“Whatare you doing?” I asked, horrified by his complete disregard for my feelings orGracie's.
“Lookin' foranythin' suspicious.”
“But,” I slowly stood and came to stand by his side, “can'tyou do it a little more—”
“Alittle more, what?” He turned his hardened gaze on me, while holding a lacypair of underwear. “Ye want me to take my time and lay each of her things onthe bed with the utmost care?”
Iblinked, not knowing what to say. I still wasn't used to his hot and colddemeanor. How kind he could be one more and then how quickly he could turn itoff.
“I-Idon't—”
“Itisnaethat I don’twantto care,” heinterrupted hurriedly, casting the pink lace aside. “I just don’t have thetime.As it is, I've wasted enough.”
Hedidn't give me a chance to speak, before continuing to dig through hernegligee. Then, frustrated by the tedious nature of the task, he cursedunderneath his breath and turned the entire bag over. An assortment of fabricsand color was strewn across the bedspread, and on top of it all, was the littlered, velvet box I remembered so well.
BeforeAlec could snatch it for himself, I grabbed it, and he grumbled something aboutgetting my fingerprints all over the evidence. But I didn't care about that, asI opened the jewelry box and found it empty.
“Wasshe wearing her engagement ring?”
Withhis hands on his hips, Alec blew out a breath and asked, “What?”
Iturned to look at him, as I held out the box where her engagement ring had oncebeen. “After she broke up with her fiancé, she put her ring in this box andnever took it out. I didn't even know she had brought it with her, but …” Istared at the box's barren cushion, as if Icould willthe thing back into existence. “I don't know why it wouldn't be in here.”
“Idinnaeremember if she waswearin'any jewelry,” he admitted.
“Well,Sherlock,” I said, tucking the box into my pocket, “I guess we better findout.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
ALEC
Afterdeciding to finally take Grace’s belongings with us and loading them quicklyinto the boot of my car, Rosie and I drove back to the house with a newpurpose. When we returned, I flipped through the pictures until I found thoseof her hands, only to discover the ring was indeed missing. And while it wasn'tthe most original development in a case, it was something. And something wasalways better than nothing.
“Wedon't know that whoever killed her has it,” Rosie said, as we ate the Chinesefood Rick had ordered for dinner.
“That’strue, but unlikely,” I offered. “The only other reasonable explanation would bethat it was stolen—”
“Ormaybe she sold it,” Rosie threw in pointedly, raising a finger. “Maybe shedecided to just be done with it and got rid of the damn thing.”
Igrumbled as I shook my head. “Mmm… I suppose it’spossible, but again, unlikely.”
Rosieopened her mouth, most likely to protest, when TJ made his presence known witha loud sigh.
“Whywould she even bring it?” TJ muttered, looking across the table at his mother.“She hated it.”
Rosieshrugged, offering her son a melancholic smile. “I don't know, honey. I mean …”She sighed and planted her elbows against the table, setting her eyes on thechandelier overhead. “I carried my wedding rings for months, even though Iwasn't wearing them anymore. People deal with things in different ways, somaybeGiGijust liked to keep it close.”
Ihad never spoken of my ex-wife or divorce as much as I had in the past fewdays, and I wasn't sure what that meant. But even despite my reservations, Ifound myself saying, “I kept myweddin' ring in mywallet until I moved back to Fort Crow. It just felt wrong not to keep it onme.”
