He had sharp, distinguished features and gray hair slicked back against his scalp.
I recognized him immediately from the business sections of the newspaper.
It was Harrison Sterling, the primary owner and CEO of the Vanguard conglomerate.
“What in God’s name is happening in my building at midnight?” Sterling demanded, his booming voice vibrating off the metal walls.
Julianne immediately shifted her posture, adopting the panicked, victimized demeanor of a dedicated employee.
“Mr. Sterling, thank God you’re here,” she gasped, pointing a perfectly manicured finger at me.
“This woman broke into our secure archives. She’s been harassing our staff all day. She bribed David to let her in, and she tried to steal the Starlight Falcon. It’s in her right coat pocket right now.”
The lead police officer stepped toward me. “Ma'am, keep your hands where I can see them. Do you have the property in your pocket?”
My heart was hammering violently against my ribs, but a strange, terrifying calm washed over me.
I had spent fifteen years being ignored, dismissed, and pushed around by banks and landlords.
I was not going to let this woman take Arthur away from me a second time.
Slowly, deliberately, I reached into my coat pocket with two fingers.
The officer tensed, but I pulled out the heavy platinum brooch and placed it on the metal table, right next to my scattered belongings.
Sterling stared at the piece, his face reddening with anger.
“Arrest her,” Julianne urged the officers. “She’s a thief.”
“I didn't steal it,” I said loudly, looking directly at Harrison Sterling. “Julianne placed it in my pocket three minutes ago to frame me. And I can prove it.”
Julianne scoffed loudly. “She’s lying. She’s a desperate woman facing foreclosure. Look at her bank notices on the table.”
I ignored Julianne and took a step toward Sterling.
“Mr. Sterling, your director claims her father purchased this piece from my husband. She’s relying on that Bill of Sale right there.” I pointed to the manila folder. “Look at the date on the document.”
Sterling frowned, stepping forward. He picked up the paper and adjusted his glasses.
“October 14, 2008. So what?”
I reached down to my scattered pile of belongings on the table and picked up the folded piece of paper I had been carrying all day for the bank loan officer.
I handed it to Sterling.
“This is my husband’s official death certificate and medical report. As you can see, Arthur Porter was placed on life support in a medically induced coma on the morning of October 13th due to severe injuries from a fire. A fire that David here,” I gestured to the guard who had finally been released by the tactical men, “can testify was heavily suspected to be arson.”
Sterling’s eyes flicked back and forth between the forged Bill of Sale and the medical document.
His face went totally slack.
Julianne stepped forward, her voice rising in panic.
“Mr. Sterling, she forged that medical record! She’s trying to steal—”
“If I’m a thief trying to steal a completed piece of jewelry,” I interrupted, my voice ringing with total authority, “then how do I know how it works?”
Before Julianne or the police could stop me, I reached out and picked up the loose, raw sapphire sitting on the table.
I picked up the platinum falcon.
The room went dead silent.
I aligned the jagged edges of the raw sapphire with the empty cavity in the bird's chest.
With a firm push, the stone clicked flawlessly into place, fitting with microscopic precision.
But I didn't stop there.
Arthur had told me the secret the night before he died.