Already Gone

– 36 –



Diane starts to say something, but I reach out and pull her close, cutting her off. She presses her head against my chest, and at first I think she’s laughing, but when I look down, I see the tears.

She says, “I’m so sorry.”

I touch the back of her head, soft, and don’t speak.

“I never meant for any of this to happen,” she says. “You have to believe me. Please tell me you believe me.”

I do believe her, but the words won’t come. There are too many thoughts rolling through my head, too many emotions, and I can feel myself shutting down.

Diane’s shoulders shake, and the tears come even harder. I hold her and wait for them to stop.

Diane steps back and runs her thumbs under her eyes and says, “We have to go. The police are everywhere. They know you’re here.”

The words don’t register right away.

Diane grabs my hand and squeezes. “Jake, we can’t stay here. Someone is going to recognize you.”

“How—” I stumble over the words, try again. “How did you do it?”

Diane pulls my hand, leading me toward the truck. “I can explain on the way, but we have to leave now.”

She pulls again, and this time I let myself be pulled.





“Your picture is all over the news,” she says. “They’re looking for your car. We have to figure out how we’re going to get out of here.”

I watch her as she drives, unable to look away.

Her hands are constantly moving.

“Are you okay?”

Diane shakes her head and tries to smile, but she doesn’t come close. “I thought this was over. I never meant for you to get involved.”

“We’ll be fine.”

“I made such a terrible mistake. I was so stupid.”

“We don’t have to talk about this now.”

“Yes we do,” she says. “I tried to tell you the truth so many times, but I couldn’t do it. I can’t have any more secrets.”

Her voice rises as she speaks, and I know the tears aren’t far behind. I reach over and put my hand on her leg and squeeze. Slowly, I feel her start to relax.

I tell her it doesn’t matter, not anymore.

“I didn’t know what else to do. I thought if I was gone, if I disappeared, things would blow over and they’d leave you alone.”

“You could’ve told me the truth.”

“If I had, you would’ve tried to fix it.” She shakes her head. “This one can’t be fixed.”

“So you just—”

“They were going to kill you, Jake, because of me.” Her voice wavers. “I didn’t have a choice.”

There’s still a part of me that wants to scream at her for what she’s put me through, but mostly I just want to know how she did it. “You were alive.”

“I’m sorry.”

“When I was there, in the morgue, you were alive.”

Diane stares out at the road, silent.

“And the coroner? Your father?”

“He set it all up,” Diane says. “He knew everything that needed to be done, all the steps. He wanted to help.”

I let her words sink in, and I don’t say anything for a while. I know I should be angry, furious, but I’m not. I can’t be. Diane is here, and we’re together again.

This is our second chance.

“Where’s Lisa? Why do you have her truck?”

“She’s back at her house, waiting for me. She told me you came by this afternoon and that she agreed to meet you tonight.” Diane looks at me. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“That’s what I keep hearing.”

“It’s dangerous.”

“She told me she didn’t know how to find you.”

“She knew, but she thought I was gone.”

“Gone?”

“I was supposed to leave tonight, but then I saw your picture on the news and I changed my mind.” She hesitates. “What did you do, Jake?”

“I didn’t do anything,” I say. “At least not what they say I did.”

“What about that detective?”

“I didn’t kill him, but they’re setting it up to look like I did.”

“Who is?”

“A client of yours. A man named Briggs.”

Diane’s shoulders tense. She doesn’t speak.

“He was at my hotel tonight, waiting for me. He told me a lot of things. Are they true?”

Silence.

“The stolen truck? My father?”

“I made a mistake.”

“Who is he?”

“Briggs?” Diane shakes her head. “He works for a company called CDG Enterprises.”

I tell her I’ve never heard of them.

“They’re an American company that does a lot of charity work in West Africa: exporting food, medical supplies, clothing. It’s all a cover for the import side of the business.”

“What do they import?”

“Diamonds, mostly, but they’ll deal in anything where they can make a profit.”

“He told me about the stolen art.”

“It didn’t start out that way. At first he was just another client building a private collection. Everything he bought back then was completely legal.”

“When did that change?”

“A couple years ago he asked me to fly to Buenos Aires and meet with a man who was selling his collection. He wanted to know if it would be worth his time.”

“Was it?”

“No, nothing I saw had any long-term value. The man was in his nineties and had immigrated to South America after World War Two. When I told him we wouldn’t be interested, he asked if he could show me one more painting. I didn’t see the point, but Briggs wanted me to see his entire collection, so I went along.”

“He had something valuable?”

Diane nods. “Very.”

I wait for her to go on.

“He showed me a painting that was taken from a museum in Poland in nineteen thirty-nine. It had been missing ever since.” She shakes her head with the memory. “I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.”

“And Briggs wanted to buy it?”

“I didn’t think he would,” she says. “When I told him the painting’s history, I thought he’d want to report it, but I was wrong. From then on my role changed, and the money was too good to pass up.”

“So what happened?”

“I made a mistake,” she says. “A few months before you and I met, I was approached by a man at the company who’d figured out a way to steal one of CDG’s diamond shipments. He asked for my help and I agreed.”

“The truck.”

Diane nods. “We got caught, and now here I am.”

We both stare out at the road, and neither of us speaks for a long time. Then I say, “Briggs wants your help.”

“My help?”

“The guy who set up the hijacking,” I say. “They want to find him. He said if you tell them where he is, they’ll leave us alone.”

Diane stops at a red light and turns to me. Her expression doesn’t change. “Briggs told you this himself?”

I take the photo out of my pocket and show her the number on the back. “He told me to call him tonight and tell him where he is. If it checks out, he said your debt to them will be paid and we’ll be free to go.”

“He said that?”

“Those were his exact words.”

Diane looks back at the road. The light turns green, and we start moving again.

“What do you think?”

She shakes her head no. “The man they’re looking for is Thomas Wentworth.”

At first the name doesn’t mean anything to me.

Then it does.

“The note on the jar,” I say. “The body the cops found by the river.”

“They don’t need to know where he is. They tracked him down a long time ago.”

“Then—” I stumble over my words, trying to understand. “What do they want?”

“They want their diamonds back. And once they have them, they’ll come for me.” Diane looks up, and all I see in her eyes is sadness. “There’s no deal, Jake. These people never forgive.”