“Something about his eyes…I can’t put my finger on it.”
Jared pulled a black wallet from his jacket pocket and tossed it into my lap; it was the one he had taken the night Ryan was stabbed. I took a closer look at the metal object embedded into the black leather. It was a badge.
I gasped, pointing at the picture. “This is the man that wanted my ring. This is Grahm.”
Jared nodded.
“They were all cops?” I said, shaking my head in disbelief. “But why would they…?” My eyes wandered to my hand.
Jared stared at it as well. “The ring must be the key to something.”
“It doesn’t make any sense,” I whispered. I looked at the papers for a moment and then rifled through them.
“What is it?” Jared asked.
“There’s a receipt in here for the purchase of my ring. I didn’t think about it before, but there has to be a connection,” I said, impatient with the endless stacks. “Why else would it be here with important business documents?”
My eyes widened with excitement when I found the thin carbon copy. Jared leaned over my shoulder to take a look for himself.
“There’s an engraving charge,” he pointed out. “Is your ring engraved?”
“No. I don’t…Jack never said anything, I’ve never noticed,” I said, looking at my ring.
Slowly pulling it off my finger, I held it up, rotated it, and narrowed my eyes, looking for any words. “There’s nothing,”
Jared held out his hand, and I handed it to him. My finger felt naked in its absence. Jared lifted it up, looked at it from every angle, and then returned it to my finger.
“There’s nothing,” he confirmed. He eyed the receipt once more. “I say we go to the designer. Maybe they have a copy of this receipt.”
I nodded, prompting Jared to gather the information and return it to the safe.
Jared and I drove to the address on the receipt, and I nervously twisted the ring around my finger as we pulled to a stop beside the curb. At first glance it appeared to be a typical jewelry store, not the underground, surreptitious establishment I had expected.
The bell on the door announced our arrival and a short, pudgy, elderly man with round glasses greeted us. Jared took my hand as we walked toward the glass display cases the man stood behind.
“Good morning. I am Vincent! You like diamonds? Sapphires? Rubies? Emeralds? Semi-precious stones? I have them all,” he gushed with a thick accent.
Jared squeezed my hand and introduced himself. “This is Nina…I’m Jared.”
Vincent didn’t skip a beat. “I’d be happy to help you with anything you need.” He paused to look at our hands intertwined and smiled. “Could I interest you in our exquisite line of engagement diamonds? I designed most of these,” he said, pointing out a long row of extravagant rings. “I can design one customary, if you wish.”
Jared looked at me with a soft expression, and then reluctantly turned his attention back to Vincent. “Not yet.”
Vincent smiled at me, and I felt the blood rise to the surface of my cheeks. “Ah, well, then. Another time.”
“You are the owner?” Jared asked.
Vincent chuckled, patting his protruding belly. “I am. Thirty-six years, now.”
Jared raised my hand, resting it on the surface of the glass encasement. “Do you recognize this ring?”
Vincent leaned down to get a better look. “Yes…yes…,” he hummed, elongating the words. “It has been awhile, has it not?” he asked, looking to me.
“My father purchased this from you three years ago,” I reminded him.
Vincent lifted my hand and angled it several different ways, proudly watching it sparkle in the bright lights above.
“Your father was a man of vision,” he said, smiling in approval.
Jared slid the receipt in front of Vincent. “This paper includes an engraving fee.”
“Yes, yes. I remember,” he said, pinching his bottom lip with his thumb and forefinger. “I don’t ask questions, you know. I just make the customer happy.”
“But…there is no engraving on the ring,” I said.
He bellowed out a cheerful laugh. “There is, kisa. But it’s hidden, you see.” Vincent opened his hand, prompting me to give him my ring.
I sighed and looked to Jared, who offered a comforting smile. He took my hand and slowly pulled the ring off of my finger. Once Jared placed it in his hand, Vincent turned the ring upside down.
“He had it marked into the pavilion of the stone. The underbelly,” he explained, “very tiny…I had to send it away to a gentleman I know with a laser. I don’t have one of those here, of course,” he chuckled, shaking his head.
“The engraving order has been covered. Do you have the original receipt?” Jared asked.
“No, no. I would have total in my books, only. If I remember correctly, it was letters and numbers. Gibberish that only made sense to your father, I assume.”