Page 15

In what Iviewed as a dazzling victory over his father, Bradley won the right to use his parents’ credit card on anything we wanted in an upscale jewelry store in the heart of San Francisco. I preened I’d gotten to help by adding in some threats to ask for details about the Hampton’s beach bondage activities. Whistling a merry tune, my fiancé browsed the offerings while I stared at a necklace with red stones in the display case. According to the tag, it was made of numerous gemstones, including the center stone, which was a small but fierce red diamond. Clear diamonds circled the red diamond, which was then surrounded with rubies. Garnets and spinel spread from the center of the collar and ended in bands of carnelian. Judging from the headless mannequin, it was meant to be worn as a choker, with the precious diamond safely nestled in the hollow of the throat.

According to the price tag, I could buy two nice sports cars for the price of the necklace with some cash left over. Whistling, I admired the piece, wondering who’d spend over a million dollars on a piece of jewelry.

Bradley’s father joined me, leaning over for a better look at the piece. “That’s something else.”

I nodded, pointing at the red diamond. “It’s so small yet so valuable.”

“I’d guess it’s about a carat, and it’s a damned good color.” Bradley’s father lifted his head and gestured to the gentleman behind the counter who kept a close eye on us and the store’s priceless treasure.

“How many I help you, sir?”

“Where is the diamond from?”

“This stone was discovered in Australia, sir. We have its certificate of authenticity if you’d like to see it.”

“Please,” Mr. Hampton replied, and he shooed me away. “You need a necklace anyway, and it’s traditional in our family for the father of the groom to provide it. The mother of the groom will get a bracelet for you. The boy’s on the hook for the rings, so off you go. If I don’t get a necklace the wife approves of, I’m on the couch for at least twenty years, assuming I survive her initial wrath. I cannot bring shame to the family name.”

I spluttered, but at a warning look from Bradley’s father, I retreated across the store. “Bradley, I made a mistake.”

“What did you do?” he asked without looking up from the assortment of rings on display in the cabinet.

“I looked at the necklace in the display case, and your father is interested in it.”

“Ah. My grandfather picked my mother’s necklace. My mother made it hard on Dad, because she never even indicated which color gemstones she likes, so they had to guess completely. If Dad thinks you love it, he’ll get it based solely on that and deal with Mom later about it.”

“That’s real?”

“Mom will pick a bracelet. I get the rings.”

I frowned. “The earrings are on me, then?”

“Not precisely. Those are handed down unless it’s a complete mismatch. They’re clear diamonds, so they usually match. As such, the earrings are already covered. My mother will give them to you when you’re getting dressed for the wedding, along with the rest of the jewelry set. The only piece you get today is the engagement ring. We usually only do a wedding ring for the men, but I’ll get an engagement ring as well.” Bradley pointed at a sparkling ring in the case, one which was decorated with many tiny stones without the huge central stone I expected among the rich and famous. “I’m thinking something more like that for you. I don’t think you’ll like a large stone. It’ll get in the way while you work, and I want you to have something you’ll wear. Mom’s taking her rings off all the time because it always gets in the way, which drives Dad crazy.”

Was there anything more attractive than a practical man? On second thought, there was: a practical man naked in bed, named Bradley Hampton. “Your dad is trying to buy a necklace that costs more than a million dollars, Bradley.”

“He can afford it. You’re worth every penny. Mom’ll have to work hard at besting him—”

“They have a matching bracelet,” Bradley’s father announced. “And earrings. The earrings are ruby, the bracelet is ruby, garnet, and spinel. Your mother might forgive me one day for acquiring the set. There’s also a ring, and it also has a red diamond, but it’s only a quarter carat set with white diamonds in a chalice band.”

Not a single word of his father’s statement made a lick of sense to me, but it caught my fiancé’s attention, and he abandoned me to investigate the treasure I’d been admiring. I sighed, wondering what had gotten into the men and how I’d become the sane one of the lot. The other store employee, an older woman in a sleek black blazer and skirt, offered me a tentative smile. “It’s rare to see a father and son go on a venture like this. It’s most often the very nervous son trying to navigate the perils of fine jewelry on his own.”

I matched the woman’s smile. “I’m useless at this.” Admitting the truth took a load off my shoulders, and I took over where Bradley had started, eyeing the selection of rings with interest. “He needs a narrow engagement band and a matching wedding brand. I’m insecure, so he wants to make a statement.”

“With such a handsome man as your fiancé? I would be insecure, too.” The woman leaned over the counter and pointed at a pair of rings tucked into the corner. “If he works with his hands often, that set would be ideal. The stones are set beneath a rim of metal, making it hard to lose them. They’re covered under our warranty, so if he does lose a stone, we will replace it at no charge. We back all of our pieces, of course.”

Of course. “Don’t tell me how much they cost. Just please make sure they fit before I have a heart attack.”

She humored me with a smile, grabbed a set of rings, and snagged the engagement and wedding band. “This pair is a one-off; if it doesn’t fit, we can take the stones and set it in a ring of the same design that will fit. We have limited room to adjust the bands.” Removing the rings, she showed me how the diamonds fully circled the bands. “If his ring size changes, we can adjust it as needed. If his finger becomes smaller, we will keep the excess diamonds in storage for future adjustments.”

Apparently, the rich and famous got top-notch service. Heaving a sigh, I regarded the Hamptons, who engaged in a lively discussion with the gentleman tasked with defending the necklace. “What ring would match the ring that goes with that set?”

Without hesitation, she pointed at a band in the display case, which featured a band of diamonds similar to the set she’d picked for Bradley. “That one. We talk about that set often, and we’ve come to the conclusion that ring is probably the best match for it. It won’t overwhelm the red diamond, and you don’t want anything too flashy; the engagement band is meant to shine. It will complement rather than overwhelm.”

I held out my left hand and pointed at my ring finger. “I don’t know what size that thing is.”

Laughing, she took the rings and tested my finger until she found which one fit, and then she tested the ring, nodded her satisfaction, and slipped it on my finger. “Luck is with you. Let me check the size of the engagement ring.”

I took off the wedding band, and at a loss of where to put it, set it with the rings she’d suggested for Bradley. To my amusement, the woman pilfered the engagement band from the set, brought it to me, and put it on my finger. Like the first ring, it fit.

“The nice thing about having average sized fingers is that most rings are made in a small range of sizes, so you have good odds of not needing to have a ring adjusted.” The woman smiled, and she removed the red diamond ring before sliding the wedding band onto my finger. Then she replaced the engagement band and gave a satisfied nod. “Once wed, this is how they’re supposed to be worn. The wedding band should go closest to your heart. However, some women will wear the engagement band there instead, as it’s the order they were received. But during the ceremony, he should remove the engagement band, put your wedding band on, and then replace the engagement band. Some women opt to not wear the engagement ring during the ceremony, but I think this one is too special to hide.”

No kidding. With the necklace costing a ridiculous amount, I didn’t even want to think about how much the ring cost. “The older one is paying.”

The woman smiled, gathered the rings, and joined Bradley and his father, setting my acquisitions on the glass counter. “I need to measure your finger, sir.”

Without missing a beat, Bradley held out his left hand while listening to his father and the gentleman discuss the specifics of the jewelry set. The woman tested the rings on his finger, made a few notations, and returned to me. “His rings will need to be resized. It will take about a week. We will need to source some matching diamonds, as he has larger hands.”

I hadn’t noticed his hands being large. Waiting a week to lay my claim annoyed me, and I returned to the section with rings. “Do you have any solid gold bands in his size he can wear in the meantime?”

She chuckled, nodded, and rummaged through one of the collection of rings until she found one that matched my request. “It’s never bad to have a spare ring, and this would be good for him to wear if he’s doing outdoor work and doesn’t want to get the ring filthy.”

“Maybe I should get a set that’s plain, too.”

Smiling, she found us both a pair of plain gold rings in our sizes, and she added them to the collection on the counter. “While you wait on your gentlemen, do you have any questions? Is there anything you’d like to look at?”

“Show me something that’ll sticker shock me as bad as that necklace,” I suggested, hoping the newest onslaught to my delicate sensibilities would restore me to sanity.

“We have Patek Phillipe watches in stock, and we have a display piece that the owner would be willing to sell. I can say he won’t entertain any offers below thirty million for it.” She gestured to a golden pocket watch set in the center of the case. “This is the piece.”

My mouth dropped open. “Did you just say that watch is thirty million dollars?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Right. I’d asked to be sticker shocked. I went beyond shocked. The pocket watch, while beautiful, cost so much I struggled to comprehend its value. “Bradley?”

“Yes?”

“This watch is insanity.”

“If you like it, buy it,” he informed me, as his attention was fixated on the red necklace, which the gentleman guarding it handed over for his inspection. “Dad’s buying.”

“I’d bankrupt your father if I bought this.”

“He’d probably cry for a while but endure somehow.”

“Do you even like pocket watches?”

Bradley stilled, and after a moment of looking over the necklace, he handed it back to the gentleman and wandered my way. “You have my attention.”

“Boy, you’re supposed to be deciding if this is good enough for your woman,” Mr. Hampton complained.

“There will never be a necklace as beautiful as she is, but that one comes close to doing her some justice. And red suits her. Good luck, Dad.”

I stared at Bradley, wondering if I needed to take him to a doctor for an evaluation.

“There’s no luck involved with this purchase, you spoiled brat of a child.” Heaving a sigh, the older man said something, nodded, pulled out his wallet, and selected a black credit card, which he handed over before coming to join us. “Now what are you trying to make me buy?”

“The young lady inquired on a piece that could sticker shock her, which is this piece.”

The men stared at it, and I recognized the instant they’d gone from neutral to unhealthily interested in the treasures the case held. “No.”

According to their expressions, I had dealt them a cruel blow, and they attempted to stare me into submission.

“We have to come back next week to pick up Bradley’s rings, so if you can get the approval of adult supervision, you may then buy the ridiculously expensive watch. I will call the adult supervision and notify her of this, as there will be no thirty million dollar purchases made at random. The only reason I’m allowing you to get away with that necklace is because it’s a family tradition. If you claim randomly buying a stupidly expensive watch is a family tradition, I will call your adult supervision for confirmation.”

“She really will, Dad.”

“I know she will,” Mr. Hampton muttered, and he sighed, staring at the watch. “But it’s a Patek Phillipe.”

It concerned me he knew who had made the watch at a glance, unless he’d overheard me talking to the woman. “You may come back next week after speaking with an adult, and only after you have obtained forgiveness for your first impulse purchase.”

“Good luck, Dad.” Bradley surrendered and moved off to check the other watches available for sale. “If you don’t pick a watch, I will pick one for you. My favorite librarian deserves a watch.”

I recognized a lost battle when I saw it. “What’s the cheapest watch you sell?” I asked.

The woman chuckled, and she pointed at a corner cabinet featuring more watches. “They’re mostly for children or they’re novelty, but there’s a book-themed watch over there.”

A book-themed watch? I hurried over to where she pointed, discovering a watch depicting an open book with a tasseled bookmark for an hour hand and a feather quill for a second hand. “Oh!”

“This model is quite popular among our reading clients,” she announced with pride. “And you should find the price tag attractive.” She unlocked the case, slipped her hand inside, and turned the price tag so I could see it. $249.99 would buy me the perfect watch. I reached for my purse, but before I could get my hand on my wallet, Bradley took hold of my wrist to deflect me from my mission.

“Hey,” I protested.

“I’ll buy you the watch.”

“I can afford this one.”

Heaving a sigh, Bradley eyed me, eyed the watch, and released me. “I’ll look the other way, because that’s not worth fighting over.”

“Who are you and what have you done with Bradley?” I demanded.

“I just recognize the worst thing I could do for you is take your independence, and you decided you would buy that for yourself.” He smiled, kissed my cheek, and left me to the business of securing my new timekeeper. “But you’re going to have to deal with me buying everything at the bookstore. Dad? Find us an open bookstore. The librarian needs to be rewarded.”

“And a luggage store, to carry everything she buys,” Bradley’s father replied, and he laughed and shook his head. “And you’re going to need a larger house if you want to care for your librarian properly.”

Like hell he did. I had an entire study I could fill with books. Ignoring the insanity seemed safer than participating, so I dug out my wallet, retrieved my bank card, and put it on the counter. “Please take my money.”

“With pleasure,” the woman replied, removing my new watch from the case and guiding me to the register. “Would you like to wear your watch out today?”

“I absolutely would.”

As promised,Bradley and his father took me out for Chinese food and to the bookstore before we headed to the hotel to start making real progress on attempting to sort out the tangled weave of my kidnapping and the murders of unethical politicians out to either enslave or control the populace. Due to time constraints, we didn’t go car shopping, but I didn’t mind waiting.

I wanted to enjoy looking over the vehicles rather than rush.

I also wanted to deal with the memory of Senator Westonhaus telling me the upper echelons of the United States government controlled everything, which nibbled away at me.

Once back in the hotel, I grabbed a piece of paper and began taking notes, starting with the concept the government no longer had a checks and balances system, all politicians followed a precise script, and that all Americans were pawns of some game we didn’t even realize existed.

“Should I be concerned?” Bradley asked, sitting on the floor beside me and digging his laptop out of his briefcase.

“Only if you have a healthy dislike of conspiracy theories.”

“While I have a healthy dislike of conspiracy theories, I have learned reality is a harsh and cruel mistress. Hit me with your best shot.”

“On the way to the restaurant we went to discuss the donation, Senator Westonhaus told me that all politicians of a certain level are essentially inducted into the government system and given a choice: dance to the tune of the established system or find themselves disposed of. Every vote, every piece of legislation brought into law, all of it is predetermined by the top-ranking officials.”

Bradley and his father stared at me through narrowed eyes.

“I don’t know if he was telling the truth,” I stated. “This has just been nagging at me.”

“I think it’s the most sensible thing anyone has said since this has started.” Something about Mr. Hampton’s tone captured my attention. “If the senators and representatives were allowed to have free votes, legislation like that wretched bill would die early. Or it should. Of course, I’ve always been of the belief politicians are morally bankrupt. But for so many to be that morally bankrupt? No, I think Senator Westonhaus at least told you a partial truth. Do you remember why he brought it up?”

I did my best to remember the conversation, regretting I hadn’t been able to record our talk or take notes. “He said there are no parties in the upper government, and while there are factions among the politicians, the game is already set and decided long before it’s actually played.”

“That makes a frightening amount of sense, if you view the whole situation through the lens of a conspiracy theory,” Bradley acknowledged. “It goes against everything it means to be American, however.”

“My conversation with him led me to believe there aren’t really Americans anymore, just pawns of those who were chosen to be among the current rulers of the country. Right up to the presidency. It made me wonder why we even bother to vote, if everything is predetermined.”

“The illusion of freedom,” Bradley informed me. “Just like that bill is a complete eradication of freedoms unless you’re the perfect person in the eyes of bill makers. And the perfect people in the eyes of the bill makers seems to be those who have the wealth, the general influence, and the magical abilities they want. I barely qualify. Your marriage to me will qualify you. But we’ll have to be very careful with our children. The system is meant to keep everyone in their set place. We’d have to contract our children to children of similar levels to make sure they wouldn’t be drafted. And with the draft rules eliminating age, gender, and anything else of importance as exemptions, I give it a single generation before the only people free from the draft are those with a ridiculous amounts of money, influence, and ability to operate contracts. I expect the contract rules will be expanded to allow these families to essentially ‘liberate’ Americans using the contract system.”

“Which is no different from the draft, except instead of a battlefield and being owned by the military, you’re owned by a bunch of rich assholes.”

“Hey,” Bradley complained.

“Where was the lie?” I asked in my sweetest voice.

“Cruel woman. I mean, I’m rich, but I’m not an asshole!”

“You’re not?” I graced him with my sweetest smile.

“Dad, leave.”

“No.” Mr. Hampton chuckled, went to the door, and fetched one of the takeout containers we’d picked up from the Chinese restaurant, setting it on the desk nearby along with a pair of chopsticks. “This is a reward for being assertive. You’ll have to wait to continue any plans to seduce my son until later.”

“Thank you.” I peeked inside to discover orange chicken, not as spicy as what I liked at home, but hot enough to remind me I needed to work up to my favorite treat after forced separation from my favorite food.

“Dad,” Bradley complained.

“Work before play. I feel you’re correct in your general evaluation of the situation; the goal of this bill really seems to be a general restructuring of the United States to be more of a military dictatorship than a democracy—or a democratic republic, which is what the United States should be. It’s not anymore, not really. Too much power has flowed from the hands of the people into the hands of the government. With the loss of the checks and balances system, it’s only a matter of time until the ruling parties of the United States show their true colors. The draft rules seem to indicate it’s probable the government type will shift to a more militant nature. It wouldn’t surprise me if the next phase involves a campaign for patriotism, encouraging the young to want to draft into the military. That way, when the next batch of young voters comes in, they’ll view the legislation as patriotic. That’s a very dangerous prospect.” Bradley’s father sat on the edge of the nearest bed. “What we really need to do is figure out how and why there were two attacks at the same time.”

Right. I’d forgotten there’d been a killing at the same time I’d been kidnapped. “You mean Representative Islanney.”

“Yes. The timing was noteworthy. And it’s sent ripples through the country, as it led everyone to believe the killers are part of an even larger group. We’d all believed they were connected, but the evidence seems to be indicating there isn’t any actual connection.”

“Senator Westonhaus just made a very convenient scapegoat, and my kidnappers possibly wanted the other group to take the fall for what they did,” I muttered.

Bradley’s father nodded. “And considering the ethics of those behind your kidnapping, the bills would severely offend them. They’re out to save and improve lives, not end them. The bill, in its current form, has the potential to end a lot of lives. By targeting Westonhaus and taking you, they’d put pressure on the government and the FBI to dig deeper into the case. That would bring the legislation and all of its consequences into the limelight. And it has.”

“So, the possibility exists these doctors were aware of the legislation, wanted it brought to public scrutiny, and realized they could use me to do it?”

My future father-in-law nodded. “That’s one possibility, yes. Another possibility is that they wanted to draw attention away from you so the real killers wouldn’t eliminate you for getting in the way of their plans.”

“I can’t say I’ve gotten in the way of their plans beyond presenting additional casualties.” I grimaced at the thought the killers wanted to move into terrorist territory rather than dealing primarily in assassinations. “But yes, I’ve come to the conclusion everybody wants to take advantage of me at this point in time.”

Bradley’s smile promised future trouble, likely to begin the instant we could get his father back to his own hotel room.

“What do you mean?” Mr. Hampton asked.

“Well, I saw the news articles about how Westonhaus has decided to use me to keep people interested in his political campaign.”

“Yes, he has been rather relentless about using your disappearance for his benefit. I really don’t think he was directly involved, but he certainly isn’t letting that opportunity slip by him.” Bradley’s father wrinkled his nose. “The boy here swindled more donations for the library out of the assholes, too. He figured if they were going to use your disappearance for their gain, he’d use their greed for the library’s gain. And, as just attacking Westonhaus’s wallet hasn’t been sufficient payback, he’s gone after every representative and senator supporting the campaign.”

I snorted at that. “We’d be able to build a whole new building if they all contributed. I swear, considering the articles, I thought I was running to be the president.”

“Well, you’ll have a great budget once you’re back to work,” my future father-in-law replied with a chuckle.

“My reappearance is going to be a problem, isn’t it?”

“For Westonhaus’s campaign? Possibly. Actually, the media has already started going to work on it. I’ve leaked to my favorite reporters, and I’ve taken a few pictures of you and Bradley together for them to show off, from an anonymous contributor, of course. I waited for you two to be particularly lovey-dovey. That paints Bradley in a really good light, and your determination to return home to him paints you in a good light, and those who were trying to start a fuss over you two not having a real relationship won’t really be able to keep talking without looking like idiots. On that front, you’ve benefited. Westonhaus won’t be able to martyr you to the same extent, and he’s had to make an announcement celebrating your escape. I did not make any mention of your foot, although it’s clear you’re standing on your own. I didn’t take any pictures of your legs below the knees. Quite on purpose. The media was also asked to neglect mention of your foot. We can watch responses from the upper politicians to see if any of them slip.”

“You haven’t eliminated their involvement?” I asked, unable to keep the surprise out of my tone.

“No. It’s entirely possible that the doctors are being funded by corrupt politicians, the killers—or the doctors are the killers, and they had one group of them take out Islanney while securing you for their surgical endeavors.” Bradley’s father shrugged. “Honestly, that is my favorite of the possibilities. It’s morally bankrupt in terms of lost lives, but a bunch of doctors would not want these bills passing. The number of deaths that would result from the draft system would be staggering—and medical care would become the purveyance of the rich. More than it already is. The military would keep the useful soldiers alive and the rest would end up dying in battle.”

“Isn’t that a bit extremist?”

“Not particularly.” Bradley’s father snapped his fingers at his son and pointed at the laptop, which Bradley handed over. After some typing and scowling, he handed the computer to me. “Read that article.”

I obeyed, noting it came from one of New York’s predominant neutral newspapers, which made it one of the better sources of news in the city, as they presented both sides of the fence rather than embracing a specific bias. The newspaper had gotten a hold of the latest rendition of the bill, printing it in its entirety along with an analysis of what every single clause meant. It had taken a hundred and fifty pages in fine print, along with a complementary digital version to the public, not counting against the newspaper’s typical view limitations meant to earn them revenue. I whistled.

Somehow, in the time I’d been missing, the bill had gotten worse. Exsanguinators had gotten removed from an immediate death sentence, with the first true exemption being made.

Any exsanguinator who opted to provide at least fifty hours of donation time to a hospital every year would not be drafted.

“I hate that this clause is here, but I love this clause,” I complained.

“The exsanguinator clause is something else. It’s making waves through the nation, actually. Someone got the brilliant idea that any talents suitable for the medical field should have the same exemption, which would majorly augment hospitals. Even our familial talent would be useful.”

“Because you can prove rape?” I asked.

Both men nodded.

“The identification of medical trauma, like rape, would fit into the proposed bill,” Bradley’s father said. “And it’s being proposed by the people; it’s definitely made some waves in the congress. It was not on the agenda, and it looks like it better be on the agenda or there’s going to be an uprising.”

“An uprising?” I blurted. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, at least twenty percent of the populace has realized they’re inevitably going to be drafted, and they don’t like it. There’s a lot of talk of rebellion and revolt now, and there are even whispers of civil war.”

I sucked in a breath, staring at the laptop and the lengthy article the newspaper had printed, covering the entire bill in detail. “Civil war? Are you serious?”

“Unfortunately. I think that’s part of why the serial killers haven’t hit again after your disappearance. Everything is in flux. Senators and representatives are claiming that the bill is under discussion for modification. The individual who leaked the original bill was killed in a car accident. The government attempted to claim it was an accident, but the FBI called it suspicious and is investigating a probable murder—an assassination. The President attempted to announce it was not an assassination, but the FBI is no longer dancing to Castillo’s tune. We expect the lead of the FBI to disappear under mysterious circumstances, too, at this point. As do the people. The news outlets aren’t pulling punches, either. It’s a problem.”

“What about the CIA?”

“Completely mute. They’re probably afraid of sharing Senator Jamesville’s fate. That’s the man who gave a copy of the bill to the newspapers. And he didn’t just send to one paper. He’d mass mailed a digital copy to every single news outlet with a contact form or email address—and he’d contacted reporters to share the bill with.” Bradley’s father sighed and shook his head. “Jamesville had the least to lose.”

“What do you mean?”

“Jamesville had cancer, which had not been announced publicly, nor had he informed anyone of the diagnosis. He informed the newspapers, stating as much. They ran a piece about his probable murder, and that he had volunteered in case it led to his death. That supports what Westonhaus told you, though. That politicians who stray from the game plan end up with a severe case of dead.”

The idea that the government killed politicians who stepped out of line sickened me. “Westonhaus told me that was how it worked. Do you think he expects to be killed?”

“I don’t know what I think,” Bradley’s father admitted. “Either that or he wanted to see if the game could be changed if he had you on his side—or as a random element in the game. Or if our cell is a part of the government’s efforts to find the killers so they have control of the situation.”

“It’s okay as long as the government is the one doing the killing?” I resisted the urge to beat my fist on the desk, gave Bradley his laptop, and attacked my Chinese food instead. “Why have there been no killings since my disappearance, then?”

Bradley closed his laptop and set it aside. “I think it may have been due to Senator Jamesville’s actions. The media has brought a lot of what’s going on to light. With the bill in full view of the public eye, do they need to plan any more murders to draw attention to the situation?”

I acknowledged his point with a nod, nibbling at a piece of orange chicken and basking in its heat. “Where does that put us with the doctors, though? Do you really think a bunch of doctors would go so far?”

“If it means saving so many lives? I have no doubt of it. It’s the same idea that a bunch of librarians would get together and try to figure out how to solve a murder mystery without knowing hardly anything about how murders are solved,” my fiancé pointed out. “We’re really bad at being investigators, though. We’re improving. It helps there are people in the FBI who are teaching us what we need to do. Beatrice has been getting lessons on collecting and submitting evidence. Mickey is being educated on research and information gathering. Meridian is learning how to question people, since she is good at talking but bad at keeping secrets. She’s also good at math, so she’s learning how to interpret financials. My mother does her lawyer things and gets into fights with the agents who want to tell her how to do her job. I think the FBI wants to send agents to her now for some teaching.”

That didn’t surprise me in the slightest. “And you?”

“I’m perfect as I am.”

I laughed at that. “And how about you, Mr. Hampton?”

“I’m also perfect.”

Goodness. Between the two of them, they’d slay me with their smug confidence. “I need to read this bill over and get caught up on current events. Go away, Mr. Hampton. If you have something that bears any resemblance to a clue, text it to Bradley.”

“All right. We’ll resume this in the morning. Bradley, don’t let her work too much tonight. Sacrifice your body if you must.”

Bradley coughed, and then he laughed. “Sure, Dad. Whatever you say. When you call Mom, tell her I love her. Confess the full price of what we bought today, and make sure you reinforce that Janette was glued to the case the instant she spotted the necklace. That should buy you time to justify your purchases. I’ll contribute with working on a new stock portfolio for you.”

“That should help contain the beast. Call me if there are any issues.”

“We will,” Bradley promised.