Chapter 7
Natalie
Being an ED nurse, it was hard to surprise me. I’d seen things. But a British thief hunter who wanted my help to track down a stolen heirloom in my small town? I had not seen that coming.
He got out his laptop and set it on the dining table. I was getting warm, so I took off my hat, set it on the couch, and ran my fingers through my hair. I’d been planning to run a few errands while Nina and Annabel were out, but those could wait.
My skepticism remained. Was Jensen’s story actually true? There were a lot of unanswered questions, and the distinct possibility that he was not who he claimed to be.
But when he’d said he was an open book—that he’d tell me anything—I sort of believed him. And he got a few points for not asking me out again. He wasn’t hitting on me, so I didn’t have the sense that this was some elaborate ruse to get in my pants.
And the excitement buzzing through my veins was hard to resist. My job had its share of intensity, but this was different. It felt like an adventure. And that stirred something deep inside me—a flurry of almost-forgotten dreams.
“What does this necklace look like?” I went over to the table and took a seat next to him.
He clicked on an image to expand it. “This is it.”
I gazed at the screen. I’d never seen anything like it.
The necklace was displayed on a black velvet jewelry mannequin stand, and I couldn’t fathom how much it weighed.
It looked huge. Diamonds set in gold created a netlike effect, with red rubies set in the middle of each square.
A large teardrop emerald draped in the center.
It reminded me of a crown, only worn around the neck.
“I can see where it got its name,” I said. “It’s all real, isn’t it?”
“Of course.”
“How much is it worth?”
“Hard to say for sure. On the black market, I’d expect at least five million.”
“Wow. That’s a lot of money.” I touched my collarbones. “I can’t imagine wearing something like that.”
“This piece doesn’t get worn. The family brings it out each year at Christmas and puts it on display.”
“It does look Christmassy, now that you mention it.”
“Originally, it was a Christmas gift to the Countess of Beaufort in the eighteenth century. The family has had it ever since.”
“For five million dollars, no wonder someone stole it. Are you sure the thief didn’t already sell it?”
“We can’t dismiss that possibility, although it’s unlikely he would have had time. He also could have handed it off to someone else en route. But we have no evidence of that, so for now, we search here.”
Jensen brought up another screen with a few grainy security photos.
“Is that him?” I asked.
“He’s our thief. I don’t suppose you recognize him.”
Scrutinizing the photos, I shook my head slowly. “There’s not much of him to see.”
“No, he was careful. We don’t think he’s a known entity, so either he’s new to this, or he’s experienced, but we’ve never caught sight of him before. Hard to know at this stage.”
“Do you think he stole it for himself? Or did someone hire him?”
Jensen’s mouth turned up in a smile. “Excellent question. You’re already good at this.”
“I’m an emergency nurse. We’re problem solvers.”
His eyes held mine for a second, and the intensity in his sent a tingle down my spine. “It’s possible he’s working on his own and plans to sell the necklace. It’s also possible he was hired. It wouldn’t be the first time a wealthy collector was behind a heist.”
“What if someone hired him, but he’s double-crossing them and plans to sell it himself? That’s a lot of money.”
“Always a possibility, but I don’t see that as often as you’d think. Gets messy if the thief thinks he can demand more money or decides to make off with the goods himself.”
“I guess there’s not a lot of trust among thieves.”
“Not at all.”
“Have you found anything so far?”
He let out a frustrated breath. “No. I went to the antique store, hoping to find out if there was a wealthy collector in the area. Usually people who deal in antiques are aware of that sort of thing. But no luck there.”
“You went to the Treasure Chest?”
He nodded.
“Was there a little old lady with cat-eye glasses?”
“Yes.”
“That’s Dottie McNess. No wonder the gossip line is going wild. She probably made ten phone calls before you left the parking lot.”
“Lovely,” he said, his voice laced with sarcasm. “She was very enthusiastic about her store’s collection of important local artifacts.”
“Like Bernard?”
“The mummy.” His tone shifted from sarcasm to distaste. “Yes, we’re acquainted.”
“I used to love that thing. I’d go to the Treasure Chest just to stare at him. I found him fascinating.”
Oddly, he didn’t look at me like I was strange. He gazed at me with a hint of bewilderment but with no indication he was judging me.
I shrugged. “But nothing really grosses me out. That’s probably part of why I became a nurse. Anyway, I don’t think Dottie would know any wealthy collectors. She’s not exactly dealing in high-end antiques. Unless it’s by accident.”
He smiled, and my heart skipped. That thing was a deadly weapon. And I had a feeling he knew it. I needed to be careful with him. He was dangerous.
But looking at him made me think. “Do you have anything else to wear?”
He looked down at his clothes. “Why?”
“You look very… expensive.”
“This was expensive.”
I laughed. “Exactly. It’s part of why you stick out. Not the expense, necessarily. No one would notice if you were dressed in thousands of dollars of winter gear. But this makes you noticeable. And those shoes can’t be good in the snow.”
“All my clothes look like this. What do you suggest?”
“Let’s stop by Friendly Farm and Feed.”
His brow furrowed in confusion. “Farm and Feed? I thought we were talking about clothing.”
“You’ve clearly never been to a small-town farm store. They have everything.”
“Apparently, I need your help more than I realized.”
“Trust me,” I said. “You’re going to look great.”
“Of course I will. I always look great.”
With a slight shake of my head, I rolled my eyes. “And you know it, too.”
He just grinned at me.
This guy was going to be a handful.
We pulled into the parking lot at Friendly Farm and Feed, and Jensen found a spot.
An old tractor parked out front was draped with multicolored Christmas lights, and a scarecrow with a Santa hat sat in the driver’s seat.
Half a dozen holiday inflatables lined the front of the building, including a snow globe, a smiling Santa Claus, and a twelve-foot reindeer.
Jensen gave me a skeptical glance. “You’re sure about this?”
“Yeah, they’ll have everything you need. At a good price, too.”
We got out, and our feet crunched on the crusted-over snow. I paused as a vintage fire engine with a snowplow on the front drove by. Speakers mounted on top blared a lively rendition of “Santa Claus is Coming to Town.”
“Who, and what, is that?” Jensen asked.
“That’s Woody Blankenship. He restored that old fire truck and now he uses it to plow the roads in winter. He also plays Santa Claus every year. The kids love him.”
Woody leaned out the window and waved. His white beard was as real as it came, and he looked a lot like Santa, even without a costume.
“Brilliant,” Jensen said. “Of course there’s a man who looks like Santa Claus driving a vintage fire engine playing Christmas music. Why wouldn’t there be?”
I waved at Woody as he passed. “That’s Tilikum for ya. Come on. Let’s go inside.”
The wide entrance was open, and large overhead heaters blew warm air. We passed a stack of chicken feed and a cart unceremoniously filled with winter hats and gloves. I grabbed two hats and two pairs of gloves as we walked by and handed them to Jensen.
“When am I going to need these?”
“I don’t know, but when you’re in the mountains, it’s good to be prepared.”
“Fair enough. Lead the way.”
I led him to the clothing section. He took slow steps through the racks, eyeing everything dubiously. There were coveralls, jeans, thick coats, and four racks of flannel shirts.
He plucked the sleeve of a red-and-black buffalo-plaid flannel and held it out. “This is… interesting.”
“Yeah, I’m not really feeling that on you. Maybe something more subtle.” Pressing my lips together to hide my smile, I picked a bright orange plaid shirt and held it up. “What do you think?”
“How is that subtle?”
“Fine, I’m kidding.” I put it back and chose a dark green. “What about this one?”
His brow furrowed. “I suppose that isn’t terrible.”
“Great. I think a blue as well.” I kept shuffling through the shirts. “And this gray is nice. Why don’t you find some jeans in your size.”
Jensen went to the wall of jeans, organized in cubby shelves. He held up a pair and tilted his head, regarding them as if denim was a foreign concept.
We grabbed several more things, then I led him to the back where a curtained-off square with an upside-down bucket for a stool functioned as a fitting room. He went in and shut the curtain, although it left a crack on one side.
I moved so I wouldn’t be tempted to peek.
Customers wandered by while I waited, some pushing carts and others carrying armfuls of items. The Christmas inflatables seemed to be popular. I saw several people with the big, brightly colored boxes in their carts.
The curtain swished open, and Jensen stepped out. It was hard not to gape at him. How did he make a green plaid flannel and jeans look like they belonged on a runway?
“What do you think?” He turned in a circle.
The shirt accentuated his biceps, and the jeans hugged him in all the right places. It was like they’d been tailored to his body.
“Looks good,” I said, careful with my choice of words. I didn’t want to blurt out something embarrassing, like you’re a Greek god in flannel.
But seriously, he was.
With a subtle grin, he glanced down at himself and adjusted the shirt. “I could grow to like this.”
“It’ll help you fit in.”
“Then mission accomplished.”
He returned to the fitting room and tried on a few more things, settling on two pairs of jeans and a few flannels.
I suggested he get some white T-shirts to go under them, and we found socks and a pair of boots that would do much better in the snow than his sleek leather shoes.
We also grabbed a dark blue winter coat.
As we walked to the front of the store to check out, I could see why he’d lit up the gossip line so fast. Everyone seemed to notice him. Heads turned, mouths opened, and he left a trail of wide eyes and whispers in his wake.
Hopefully, his new look would calm things down. I wondered if my story about him being a runaway groom had already made the rounds, and people in the store were realizing it was him.
But that was fine. In fact, I could probably use it.
If I dropped a few well-placed hints that we’d gone to Farm and Feed to disguise him as a local so he could evade the evil machinations of his father and arranged bride-to-be, it would lend more credence to the rumor.
And if we played things right, Tilikum would develop a maternal protectiveness toward the handsome visitor.
Maybe that would lower the chances of the thief realizing who Jensen really was—and what he was doing in Tilikum.
And we’d be more likely to get the necklace back.