There was a long pause. Charlie put one hand against the wall.
The response came back: Are you with him?
One thing Charlie could rely on was how much Doreen hated to wait. She’d been restless at Rapture, impatient in every text. Back in high school she would tap her foot against the back rung of Charlie’s chair and futz with a pen all through class.
Charlie simply didn’t answer. In less than thirty seconds, the landline hotel phone started to ring.
He picked up, and there was a long pause. “How did you find me?
“You’re coming here?” he said. “Baby, wait a second. How do you have my room number?”
Charlie heard steps coming toward the bathroom and she went back into a crouch. Listened as he pissed in the toilet. He swore twice, kicked the wall, then walked out of the room. She heard the door close and the electric lock engage.
Legs stiff and shaking, Charlie climbed out of the bathtub, using the towel rack to help her. She hobbled to the door. She wanted to yank it open and run, but forced herself to count to fifty. Then she walked into the hall and headed for the stairs. Taking the steps two at a time, she headed down. On the fifth floor, she had to stop and take a few deep breaths. Panic had made her breathe too shallowly and she was dizzy from it.
In the lobby, she kept her head high and her gaze on the exit. She reminded herself that even if Adam knew what Charlie looked like, she was in a wig. She could probably walk right past Doreen without being spotted.
As she hit the doors, fresh, cold autumn air broke over her. She inhaled and felt the pure hit of adrenaline that came when a job was almost over. And now, with Knight Singh’s book tucked under her bra, she had the promise of a new job ahead of her.
Ten minutes later she was parking too close to the curb on Meadow Road, in front of Murray’s Fine Jewelry. If she got Doreen’s ring, then she’d have something to turn over in exchange for fixing things at Posey’s school. And to make up for having boosted the book from Adam.
“Charlie Hall,” Murray said as the bell clanged behind her and she looked around at the familiar, dusty shelves. “What did you bring me?”
He was a small man, red-haired and wearing wire-framed glasses that magnified his eyes uncannily. She’d been selling him stolen goods since she was fifteen and Rand decided it was important for her to learn “the back end” of the business.
Charlie walked to the counter. She looked down at the rings. “Can I see that one?”
Murray’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he took out the tray.
She put her finger on Doreen’s ring. “This ring was stolen, you know.”
He raised both eyebrows. “That’s a real shame.”
She sighed, because while it was true that Doreen could call the cops, they didn’t usually get involved in domestic disputes about communal property. “I’ll trade you for a tip on a fixed horse race.”
He laughed. “You want me to play the ponies? And if I lose, what, come collect the ring from you? You know I like you, kid, but I deal in sure things.”
“It’s a box exacta on Vantablack and Mars something,” she said, turning the ring over in her fingers, admiring the flash of the stone and the richness of the gold. “Oh, come on, you can’t tell me that a pawnshop isn’t a little like gambling.”
“If you’re good at it, it’s not,” he grumbled. “That stone’s fake, you know.”
“Huh,” she said, bringing it closer to her face and giving it a more thorough inspection. The tines holding what she’d supposed to be a diamond were a different shade from the rest. A bright, yellow gold.
“Does Adam know?” Charlie asked.
Murray shook his head. “Him? He sold it to me years ago.”
“Then how come you paid him so much for what’s left?” Charlie asked, wondering whether, in the end, Doreen would consider the ring recovered if she found out her diamond was gone.
“So you know the price I gave him too?” Murray snorted. “For your information, I paid for the gold. Twenty-two carats. That’s why the band is so scratched. Too soft for regular wear not to damage it.”
Charlie gave Murray her best good-pupil smile. “Come on, this tip’s good. And it sounds like the ring is only so-so.”
Murray grunted. Then he opened his laptop and started typing something into it. Charlie slid the ring onto the knuckle of her middle finger. Looked around the store.
In one of the other cabinets, she noticed a display of onyx. Rings, earrings, pendants, a net of polished onyx beads, and handcuffs lined with strips of onyx rested in the case. Beside those were gloves like the ones that Odette had, but instead of shining nails, they were black stone. Then there were powders to add to nail polish or press into lipstick, a few fake teeth, and a large array of carved onyx knives. A big one hung behind the register. Murray’s other business. Selling protection from shadows.