Black Diamond (24 page)

He was still stuck on her sharing lunch with him. Marc wanted to say it was concern for her safety, but that was only partially true. However, he had no right to question how and with whom she spent her time.

They had a long trip ahead and if it was successful, they would know who they were dealing with and her lunch
appointment
would not be necessary. Deciding to change the subject, he suggested, “Why don’t you sit back and get some rest.”

Camille knew he wanted to say more, but that was his problem. She had a case to solve. He smoothly changed the subject, leading her into telling him more about her conversation with Talib. The more she thought about him the more she wanted to know. She felt a weird connection to him. Maybe it was from knowing that they’d shared the same type of loss. However, she knew she could not forget that he could be the
Talib
Ashanta spoke of on the recorder, which meant he could be a suspect in Harold’s and Ashanta’s deaths.

 
Talib occupied her thoughts as she felt herself falling asleep. Marc turned up the music and they made their way up I-45 towards Dallas. Camille could still see the pained look in Talib's eyes. Could he be responsible?

* * *

Talib sat in his temporary office, which he found stale and lifeless. He missed home. He'd been in Houston too long. He swiveled in the executive leather chair and enjoyed the view from his office window.

Camille filled his thoughts. He chided himself for telling her about his past. He'd never shared that story with another person, but he felt comfortable with her and that worried him.

He stood moving closer to the window, as his reflection greeted him in the tinted glass. He kept a few men close to him, but they were controlled by fear and greed. They had a common understanding and money was at the root of their relationships.

She was different. He knew he had to snap out of it and find his money; however, he and Saul’s search of Ashanta's office proved useless. He was no closer to finding his money. He would search Camille’s home. He hoped to find the mysterious letter that he believed existed.

Talib used his cell phone to instruct his men to meet him at Camille's later. The pretense of acting as the interim president was boring him to tears and working in an office all day made him long for a night on the town. With that thought, he stood and prepared to end his day. He would find a spot to run through, find a willing woman, a few drinks and then he'd meet his men at Camille's.

He reached for the phone and lifted his hand a few inches from his face. He could still feel the warmth of having her hold his hand. He buzzed his assistant and asked for the nearest gym. He would burn off some of his tension before finding a club to unwind.

* * *

Marc parked the car and turned watching her sleep with the seat laid back and her elbow propped on the door. It was almost seven and he knew she was planning to meet her parents. They would visit the jeweler in the morning about the locket and he hoped Russell would call with more information before their meeting with Derek.

He called out to her. Camille mumbled, but didn't open her eyes. “Baby, we're here.” He placed a hand on her leg and gave it a little shake. “Wake up, let's check in and you can get some more sleep in a bed.”

His mention of a bed caused her eyes to open. She rubbed her eyes sitting upright in the seat. Camille stretched and a groan echoed through the car cabin. She sat up and adjusted the seat back to an upright position.

“I'm sorry, I slept the entire trip. I'll drive back.” She gave him a sexy sleepy smile, smoothing her hair.

“No need to apologize, I took a nap earlier. Let's get going.”

He got out the car and walked around to open her door. She grabbed her things while he gathered their luggage and strolled into the hotel.

“Would you like to go with me to my parents?”

Marc paused as they stood outside their room doors. He did not like meeting parents, something about it read permanence, and that was not his intent.

Camille read his silence, “There's no pressure, and my family is cool. I just think having a hot home-cooked meal is better than eating at a restaurant.”

“Can your mom cook?” he asked humorously.

She laughed at his joke, “Yes, she can.” She swiped her room card key through the slot in the door to her room. The light turned green and she propped the door open with her foot.

“It's settled. You'll come home with me. I'll call them and let them know we'll be there around nine.”

“Okay. That will give us enough time to stop and grab some wine or something. I don't want to meet your parents empty handed.”

She shook her head, but didn't argue. “See you in a bit.”

He waited as she entered her room. He could hear her moving around. He followed her lead and walked into his suite next door. He dropped his bag on the luggage rack. He could not believe he was meeting her parents. He would go with the flow, he thought while stripping down to his birthday suit.

Marc stood under the hot shower loosening the tension from the ride and from his growing awareness of Camille. The first night they met at the club, he found her extremely sexy. Now, he knew a different side of her, her conservative side with the plain suits and boring bun. It all hid a curvy figure and her soft ringlets that made him want to reach out and run his hands through her hair.

His muscles flexed recalling their intimate interlude in her kitchen, but he had no intent of tying himself down to one woman and everything about her read wife material. He knew his family would love her. He would not introduce the two because he knew his mother would take that as a sign of him settling down, which couldn’t be further from the truth. Marc exited the shower and lay on the bed to air dry with a towel around his waist. He would help her solve the case and move on to his next location. A cruise sailing from Galveston was beginning to sound better every day.

Camille was raised in Dallas and it felt good to drive around and reminisce. Dinner went well. Her parents loved Marc and they behaved. They were infamous for making embarrassing comments when men were around, however, they seemed to be on their best behavior, and she left with her dignity intact.

* * *

The next morning, they parked in front of Joyas Custom Jewelry storefront hidden in the corner of a shopping center. It was a little after nine and the light shopping crowd helped to secure a parking spot close to the building.

They walked to the shop and she patted the silver locket secure in her pocket. Camille called ahead and talked with a man named Manuel. He assured her that he would help in any way possible. Marc opened the door, following her into the shop. A ring of the cowbell above the door signaled their entrance.

A woman called “Be right there,” from the back. As they waited, she scanned the shop. It was smaller than it appeared from outside. The open floor plan made the space inviting. She counted five glass cases illuminated with white florescent lights and several private desks. Camille stepped closer and looked at the beautiful pieces in the showcases. The website boasted about their rare stones and custom settings. She wandered through the shop, noticing collections grouped by the focal stone type. They had diamonds, pearls, rubies, emeralds, but she stopped dead in her tracks upon seeing a showcase full of black diamonds.

Marc stood over her. “Those are similar to your earrings.”

Camille's hands traveled to her set of black diamond earrings, she wore them almost daily. They had been a gift from her father. He told her that they once belonged to her mother. She treasured the earrings because they made her feel nearer to her mother.

 
“Yes, they are.” She saw a platinum necklace with black diamonds clustered into a rose-like shape. There was a complete set with a ring, bracelet, and earrings.

“Ahh, I see you like the black diamonds. They are exquisite, rare stones.” An older man appeared and inserted a key into the lock, sliding the glass to the side. He lifted the gray felt display stand, bringing the set closer. He held up the bracelet and asked, “May I?” He wanted to place the bracelet on Camille. She nodded her approval.

He clasped the bracelet on her thin wrist. “Black diamonds were once considered throwaways because they are so unlike other types of diamonds. They are known as carbonados.” He continued while admiring the piece. “It is the cluster of crystals that cause its distinct blackish color.”

Camille held her wrist up. Marc nodded his approval. She thought it was beautiful. She had never considered the significance of the stone. Her eyes began to mist as she thought of her mother.

Oblivious to her mood change, the man continued, “The most fascinating aspect is that they are actually not black at all, they are a deep green or grey.”

She extended her wrist toward him as he removed the bracelet. “How can I help you?”

“We're here to see Manuel.” Marc said, discreetly rubbing Camille's lower back.

“I'm Manuel,” he answered as he placed the set back in the showcase, securing the lock.

“Hello, I'm Camille. We spoke on the phone.” She flashed her badge. He glanced at it and nodded. “I wanted to show you a locket I was given by a friend.” She removed the locket from her pocket and passed it to him.

He lowered his glasses from his head and perched them on the tip of his nose. Holding the locket between his fingers, he held it out a few inches from his face. “This is one of my custom pieces.”

Camille and Marc exchanged a quick glance. “How do you know?” Marc asked.

Manuel looked over the brim of his glasses. “Because I know.” he said matter-of-factly. As if that statement were enough, he turned the locket on its side, shuffling to a nearby magnifying glass affixed to the end of the counter. He took another look and satisfied with his inspection, Manuel passed the locket back to Camille.

 
“I was given this locket by a friend. I found it very unique and wanted to know more about it.” She was unsure of how she should address her suspicions about the locket.

He removed his glasses, “Yes, it's a special piece we created. It's somewhat like a jump drive because it holds information, but it’s more expensive because it's a custom piece. Most people would not expect to have a terabyte memory device hanging around their neck carved out of platinum or gold. This one is more unique because of the stones.”

A memory stick?
Camille held the locket close to her eyes and tried to see how it could hold so much in such a little space.

“How much would something like this cost? And how do I retrieve the data?”

He walked them back to the magnifying glass and pointed to a pin-size hole on the side. “You see this hole? We have a special cable that connects and you can view the contents on a computer.

“Can I buy the cord from you?”

“Yes, you can, but it may not help. We have a special security code for each piece, which is determined by the owner.”

“Can you reset the code so I can access the contents?”

“I can, but not without a warrant. Many people have these made for a specific purpose. They are usually trying to hide sensitive documents. You don't have a half-million dollar piece made for the fun of it.”

Half-million dollars
! Where would Ashanta get that kind of money?

“Manuel, this is a matter of life and death. Can you help me?” Camille nearly pleaded.

“Manuel, this piece is vital to an international investigation,” Marc showed his badge. “Anything you can do would be greatly appreciated. The information on this locket could help solve a case of national security.”

He looked from Camille to Marc.

“We would greatly appreciate it. You can take our badge numbers if needed and we'll leave the numbers to our offices as well.” Camille said.

 
“All right, but it may take a while. I have to call in my programmer to get past the code in order to reset it. You'll have to leave it and come back tomorrow.”

“Are you sure?” Camille asked. “We can wait.” She did not want to leave it.
What if something happened?
The information on the locket may be the key to finally closing this case.