support of family, with only a questionable father to raise them, stuck out on some ranch in the middle of nowhere.
Anyway. Under all the broken glassware and china, disheveled books and shelf items and knife-slit, unstuffed cushions and furniture, Conner recognized a beautiful living space, subtly sophisticated and timelessly chic. He didn’t know why that surprised him, but it did. Pleasantly so. Some of Darla’s wealthy upbringing must have rubbed off on her, after all.
He gave a wry sigh. That probably explained why she’d gone after the Tears of the Quetzal. The ring was the classiest piece of jewelry he’d ever laid eyes on. And now it had passed from Vera’s finger straight into FBI custody. Forget about retrieving it any time soon. That place was like Fort Knox. Uncle Harold was not going to be pleased.
The sound of the elevator approaching pulled Conner back to the situation at hand. He went out to the foyer and met Special Agent Duncan as he exited the lift, followed by two other men in white jumpsuits carrying CSI cases. Vera popped out like a nervous jack-in-the-box.
“Are you okay?” she asked him before Duncan could open his mouth. “Did you see anyone? Any more messages written on the walls? Talk to me!”
“Whoa, slow down,” he admonished gently and put an arm around her shoulder. “No more graffiti. No sign of the intruders, ” he told Duncan, and gave a surreptitious shake of his head at the agent’s silent query about Darla.
Duncan looked relieved, then gave Conner’s protective arm a brief, disapproving frown.
“Not that it’s any of your business,” Conner said to stave off any comments, “but I’m turning over Vera’s case to an associate so there’s no conflict of interest.”
Duncan’s frown deepened as he signaled the CSI techs to proceed into the penthouse to get started. “That wasn’t part of our deal,” he said.
“What deal?” Vera asked.
“Nothing’s changed,” Conner assured him. “Can we just—”
“What deal?” Vera asked again, more insistently. She turned under his arm to look up at him.
“Never mind—”
Duncan addressed her. “For your release.”
“What about it?” she asked, eyes narrowing.
Damn. So not good.
“Rothchild agreed to help us bring Darla St. Giles into custody. He promised to call us when she contacts you.”
Ah, hell.
Shock went through her expression. She stepped away from him angrily. “Oh, really. What makes you think she’ll contact me? And even if she does, what makes you think I’ll tell you? How dare you! What would make you agree to such a thing?” Her voice was getting louder and louder.
“Vera, please believe me, it was for your own good.”
“My own good?” she spat out. “Are you kidding me? Betraying my sister?”
“He’s right,” Duncan interjected stonily. “You were apprehended with the Rothchild’s diamond on your finger. Until it can be established exactly how it got there, you are our—”
“Wait just a cotton-picking minute!” Her expression went even more furious. She glared at Conner. “The Rothchild’s diamond? That was your ring?”
He was in such deep trouble. “My family’s, yes. But—”
She looked like he had slapped her across the face. Hard. “And you were going to tell me this little detail when?”
“Vera, who the ring belongs to is not what’s important here.”
“My God, Conner! If that’s not a conflict of interest, I don’t know what is! And you expect me to trust you? What else are you lying to me about?”
It was his turn to be indignant. “That’s not fair. I never lied to you.”
“I may not be some rich, fancy-schmancy lawyer, but even I know what lying by omission means,” she ground out. “And to think I—” Her mouth snapped shut, and she squeezed her eyes closed.
He fisted his hands on his hips, ignoring the all-too-personal dig. “Do you recall in the club when I said I had information about your sister? I was going to tell you then, but was interrupted when…let’s see…oh, yeah, you got arrested!”
“Speaking of which.” Duncan stepped between them. “Why exactly were you at the Diamond Lounge in the first place, Rothchild? Quite a coincidence, wouldn’t you say?” The FBI agent’s tone was neutral, but his meaning was unmistakable.
Conner tamped down on his quickly rising hackles. Forced himself into composed, professional lawyer mode. “Are you by any chance asking me for an alibi?” he asked coolly. “For this?” He swept a hand toward the mess in the apartment.
Duncan lifted a shoulder. “It occurs to me that a Rothchild would have the strongest motive to search Miss St. Giles’s home. Missing family heirloom, and all. And you being convinced she stole it.” He looked smug. “It would also explain your presence at the Diamond Lounge. You didn’t find the ring when you searched the apartment and Darla had disappeared, so you took a chance her sister might know where she went.”
Damn. It all sounded far too plausible.
Except it was all bull, and Duncan knew it. They both knew whoever did this was the same person who’d stalked and almost killed Silver. And possibly Candace. But, okay, he played along.
“Just one thing wrong with your theory,” Conner said evenly. “I had no idea Darla had a sister. Oh, and the fact that I do have an alibi. I was working another case. The Parker case, if you want to call my firm. I spent the whole afternoon asking questions of the dancers up and down the Strip. At least a couple hundred witnesses, plus video surveillance, I’m sure. The Diamond Lounge was my next stop.” He held up a hand. “And, yes, I do have a checked-off list to prove it. Thank you. Thank you very much.”
At least Duncan cracked a smile. Vera was still glaring at Conner.
“Okay,” Duncan said. “I’ll get that checked out, but I believe you’re telling the truth. Meanwhile, I still have the problem of Ms. Mancuso. Because if you didn’t do the break-in…”
Conner nodded. “It was most likely the same guy who’s been after the ring since it disappeared from Candace’s hand the night she died.”
Duncan nodded, too. “A thief whom Darla seems to have double-crossed. And since the FBI now has the ring in its custody—”
“He didn’t find it in his search. And since Darla has disappeared—”
“He’ll be looking for Ms. Mancuso next, thinking she knows where to find her sister, and therefore the ring.”
Vera had been watching the back-and-forth like a spectator at a tennis match, but now she finally caught on with a gasp. “Are you saying…I could be in danger?”
“Did you read the message he left on the wall?” Conner queried.
“This man has already gone on the attack for the ring,” Duncan said. “Don’t take any chances with your safety.”
“So what am I supposed to do?”
“Ms. Mancuso was released into your recognizance, Rothchild. ” Duncan turned to remind him. “And the terms of her bail still stand. But if you prefer, I’ll take her back into custody. I can’t risk losing my only suspect. In any manner.”
“What? Hold on!” Vera exclaimed. “His recognizance or police custody? There has to be a door number three here.”
“I respect your dilemma, Ms. Mancuso,” the agent said. “But the only reason you are