Page 159 of Brazen Mistakes

“Got it.”

Not needing to hurry, I pull on my gloves before I amble to the front of the house, finding the intended room behind the second door I try. “Yikes, this guy is really into his money, isn’t he?” I ask. The room is practically gilded, the wallpaper so obviously hand-painted, even I can tell it’s one of a kind.

“Trips said he’s a prick. So I guess that’s not surprising. The jewelry is in a large safe at the back of the closet, behind a mirror.”

“Not this obvious-looking safe being used as a side table, then?”

“Of course not. If it’s not insured, it’s got to be well hidden.”

I chuckle, moving into the tunnel of clothes, lifting and dragging the heavy mirror away from the wall. “How does an old guy move this thing?”

“His right-hand man does it. The guy might even be personal security. I couldn’t tell. But he’s young and buff, so moving the mirror is his job.”

I nod along, inspecting an old-school safe that looks like it’s from the same era as the bloody jewels it hides. “Any chance you’ve got the combination?”

“That’s allyou, thief boy.”

I laugh, not insulted. Because that’s exactly what I am. Exactly what I’ve been for so long, I don’t remember being anything else.

It’s been a while since I had to do a manual safe cracking, and I’m weirdly giddy. Thank goodness—another normal feeling.

Kneeling in front of the beast, I spin the dial a few times, getting a feel for it, then press my ear to the metal casing. Time turns liquid as I listen, finding the spots that signal one of the probable combination numbers. I’m sure I take a while, but RJ sits silent, and I have to admit that he’s right about having a skeleton crew for this kind of gig. I don’t need Trips grumbling about how long this takes when I’m in the zone.

Finally, the heavy door swings open, and it’s all I can do to breathe when I see what the ancient beast was hiding.

So many jewels. Different sizes and materials, settings and colors. “Wow.”

RJ’s silent for long enough that I feel the need to check in. “Are you seeing this?”

“Yeah. And the original plan of you pulling it all out one by one won’t work for this many pieces. Not in the time we have.”

“Sit tight while you check in?”

“Yup.”

I settle back onto my haunches, itching to touch them, to pocket them, to take and take and take, risk be damned. Instead, I focus on how these were already stolen twice over, and that if we can get them back to their long-lost owners, we’ll be the good guys for once.

It’s not helping the way it should.

“We have a new plan,” RJ says, saving me from myself. “We’re looking for silver-toned, gray, or black settings.”

“That actually narrows it down. Probably seventy percent of this stuff is yellow gold.”

“We’re not looking for glittery, but serious and dark. Bold, Walker wants me to add.”

I peer into the safe. “Okay, that really cuts it down.”

I start the tedious task of pulling out only the silvery items, only the dark pieces, the bold ones, and holding them in front of my chest, waiting for RJ to say “next,” then pulling the next piece.

It takes nearly forty-five minutes, the seconds counted in electric shocks down my spine, letting me know it’s getting close, when they finally narrow it down to six pairs of earrings, four bracelets, three watches, and no necklaces at all.

It’s obvious I have no idea what they’re looking for at this point. Aren’t necklaces a normal thing? My sister always has on at least one. Same with my mom.

The debate inches forward, and I know we’re running out of time. “RJ, do we know when to expect the owner back?”

“No, but it will probably be soon.”

“I have a proposition.”

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