Virginia Kantra - Stolen Memory

Simon’s dark brows drew together over his perfect nose. “What?”

“Chief Denko reassigned your case to Detective Palmer. He’ll be out to talk with you tomorrow. Tell him whatever you want.”

“Why are you off the case?”

He sounded annoyed, which for some perverse reason made her feel better. Not enough to confide in him, but enough to be reassuring.

“You’ll like Palmer,” she said. “He has experience.”

“I want you,” Ford said.

She ignored the little thrill his words gave her. He didn’t mean it like that. “Well, you can’t have me. I told you. The chief gave your case to Palmer.”

“I want you,” Ford repeated, unsmiling and intent, and her pulse kicked up a notch.

“Very nice,” approved an amused male voice from behind her. “Does she come with the handcuffs?”

Laura jerked around.

A preppie god in a white silk shirt with the sleeves rolled back lounged in the doorway, smiling at her with lazy charm. Tall, blond and very handsome. If Simon Ford was the Wizard King, then this dude was Prince Charming. No wonder she’d felt miscast on her way up the stairs.

Quinn Brown spoke up from behind him. “Your brother’s here, Mr. Ford.”

Laura turned back to the desk and pinned Ford with an accusing look. “You have a brother?”

He had a brother.

Simon sat and absorbed the shock, trying to keep it from his face. After three days of being alone except for his household manager, it should have been reassuring to discover he had some family. But he felt no instant connection. No recognition. Nothing at all.

The younger man stepped forward, extending his hand. “Dylan Ford.”

“Laura Baker.”

Not “Detective,” Simon noted. Her name was Laura.

“Nice to meet you.” Dylan smiled, revealing perfect teeth against his perfect tan. “I didn’t know Simon had a thing for women in uniform.”

Perfect jackass, Simon thought.

“Detective Baker is here to investigate the break-in,” he said coolly.

The smile faded. “‘Break-in’? Here? When?”

He sounded more startled than concerned.

“Wednesday night, we believe,” Simon said.

“Before you got in?”

So his brother kept some track of his whereabouts.

“No,” said Simon, watching him closely. “After.”

“Wow.” Dylan ran a hand through his perfectly styled hair. “Did you see anything?”

He didn’t ask if Simon had been hurt. Maybe it was a natural omission. The bump on his head wasn’t obvious. Presumably the only person who even knew he’d been attacked was the one who’d struck him.

“Not really,” he said.

“What did they take? TV? Stereo?”

“Nothing like that.” He glanced at Laura Baker, wondering how much he should say, but she was still staring at his tall, blond, handsome brother. “The safe was open.”

Dylan swore. “They didn’t get the rubies, did they?”

Laura Baker’s attention snapped back like a rubber band. Simon could practically feel her vibrating.

“I believe they did,” he said slowly. “The safe was empty.”

“Damn it, Simon, I told you I had the people from Vulcan Gemstones lined up to look at them this week.”

He had no idea what the younger man was talking about. “Sorry. I forgot.”

“Of course you did,” Dylan said bitterly. “You didn’t care about my plans anyway. All you care about is the damn technological applications.”

“If you mean my laser research…” Simon said cautiously.

“Of course I mean your laser research. Those rubies could be so much more than a byproduct. But you never understood their significance outside of the lab.”

“Probably not,” Simon agreed.

“I certainly don’t,” Laura said. “Are you saying you kept rubies in your lab?”

“Solid-state lasers use synthetic ruby rods to emit energy in a specific wavelength,” explained Simon. It felt good to know something. “Basically chromium doped aluminum oxide of a higher purity and quality than natural gemstones. Some of my research has focused on new methods for creating those rods.”

She blinked. “You mean, you make fakes?”

“Cultured gemstones,” Dylan corrected. “Simon developed a flux growth process that creates crystals without bubbles or thermal strain lines. And the depth of color is amazing. With the proper cutting and machining, his rubies are virtually undetectable from natural stones.”

“And they’re missing,” Laura said.

“Apparently,” Simon said.

All that research, lost. With his memory gone, how long would it take him to retrace his steps, to duplicate his work?

“How much?” she asked Simon.

“Excuse me?”

“How much were they worth?”

“The investment in time alone—”

Dylan laughed shortly. “You’re asking the wrong man, sweetheart. He had over a hundred stones stashed in that safe at slightly over a carat each. Vivid saturation. Almost no inclusions. I’d say we’re looking at a market value of almost half a million dollars.”

“But they’re paste, right?” Laura asked. “I mean, they’re good quality, but they’re still fakes.”

Dylan shook his head. “Chemically, those rubies are identical to the real deal. There’s not one jeweler in ten who could tell them apart. Which is why getting the patents and developing a marketing strategy is so important.”

“It’s irrelevant,” Simon said. “We’re not in the business of selling jewelry.”

“You’re not in the business of selling jewelry,” his brother shot back.

“And it’s my business.”

A nasty little silence fell.

Simon wondered if most of his conversations with his brother ended this way. If so, it would certainly explain why Dylan hadn’t called.

His pleasant face set. “You did agree to let Vulcan at least examine the stones,” he said tightly.

Did he? He could have. He didn’t remember.

“So, what’s the problem?” Simon asked.

“The problem is they’re missing,” Dylan said, his voice rising. “And I’ve got to wonder— Ah, hell.” He broke off, again thrusting his hand through his hair.

“Do you think your brother is complicit in the stones’ disappearance?” Laura asked.

She was supposed to be on his side, damn it. He wanted her on his side. Her question caught him like a whack across the shins.

But it didn’t trip his brother at all.

“No, I don’t. Of course I don’t,” Dylan said. “But it’s hard to see how else this could have happened. This place has better security than the airport.” He wheeled to face Simon. “What about Quinn? Did he see anything?”

He sounded interested. Eager. Innocent?

Or anxious to divert the blame to someone else?

Cold settled in the pit of Simon’s stomach. He didn’t know enough about his brother or their relationship to even guess.

“He wasn’t with me that night,” Simon said.

“You mean they let you out without a keeper?”

“One of the guards came with me from Chicago.”

“So where was he?”

Simon breathed in deeply. He had to say something. Something intelligent, something that wouldn’t betray his loss of memory.

“Pete Swirsky is being sought for questioning at this time,” Laura said, unexpectedly coming to his rescue.

“Does that mean you think he did it?” Dylan asked.

The detective’s slim body stiffened. “It means he’s being sought for questioning.”

“What do you mean, sought?”

“According to E.C.I.P., he was scheduled to go on vacation this week,” Laura said. “He hasn’t reported for work since Wednesday.”

“So, he just happens to go missing at the same time as the rubies?” Dylan shook his head. “I don’t think so. It’s been four days. Why haven’t the police picked him up yet?”