Finally, he refocused his mind back on the diamond. Of course, the necklace that he’d taken from Amanda Hemmings’s pocket could be a fake. His gut instinct aside, its authenticity would have to be checked out—the sooner the better.
He knew someone who might be able to help with that—an insurance investigator who just happened to make his home in Georgetown. It had been five years ago when he and Chance Mitchell had worked together to close down a highly efficient art theft ring in Baghdad, and he’d been meaning to look the man up.
And he needed to know more about Amanda Hemmings. Since he was going to be stuck in the sculpture garden for a while, D.C. decided that he’d put his brother to work. He’d learned from experience just how efficient the men at Campbell and Angelis Security were at running background checks.
As he punched in a number, D.C. cast another long look at Lieutenant Fiona Gallagher’s long legs.
“YOU SAID YOUR ETA was twenty minutes,” Natalie said. “That was almost an hour ago.”
Fiona swore silently as she glanced at her watch. “Sorry, I should have called sooner.”
The fact that her captain’s voice was threaded with concern rather than annoyance had Fiona mentally kicking herself. She hurried to give Natalie a detailed report on what had delayed her.
What she didn’t relay was why she hadn’t wound things up at the crime scene as quickly as she should have. Captain D. C. Campbell was distracting her. Each and every time she’d scanned the area or the faces of the curiosity junkies who’d gathered along the crime scene tape, her eyes had returned to him. Once she’d even caught him gazing back at her, and she’d felt that same mind-numbing flash of heat. That fact alone was enough to tempt her to look at him again—just to see if his effect on her was diminishing.
So far it wasn’t.
“So let me summarize,” Natalie said. “One of our toy drive volunteers was the victim of a mugging at the National Mall. We don’t know who her assailant was except that he, too, was wearing a Santa hat. Nor do we know who his two pals in the van were. And it looks like the four of them may have tried to pull off the heist of the century by stealing the Rubinov diamond right out of the National Gallery.”
Fiona frowned. “The question is how?”
“Chance will be all over the how part.”
“I’m betting they had inside help. How else could anyone get a well-guarded diamond out of the National Gallery without setting off an alarm? Maybe Amanda and/or her assailant were just supposed to bring it out of the gallery. Who would suspect a toy drive volunteer?”
“And Hemmings decided at the last minute to take the diamond and run?” Natalie asked.
“Or she had a change of heart?” In her mind, Fiona could almost see Natalie in the middle of a party at the Blue Pepper, jotting the possibilities down in her notebook. In the background she could hear chatter and Christmas music.
“I need to talk to her,” Fiona said. “The medics weren’t able to bring her around before they transported her.”
“Hemmings’s involvement could cause some public relations problems for the army,” Natalie murmured.
“Yes.”
“I have to say I’m a bit jealous. If I weren’t so close to my due date, I’d be tempted to work at your side on this one.” She paused. “So, what do you think of your Captain Campbell? Is he good?”
“Yeah,” Fiona said. She had to give him that much. She scanned the area again, playing back the scene D.C. had described. If what had happened here was some kind of a falling-out among thieves, it was thanks to him that they had the diamond.
But she could see the direction Natalie was heading in. “I don’t need a partner.”
“The army is going to want in on this,” Natalie said briskly. “First, we’ll have to make sure what you have is the real Rubinov.” There was a beat of silence. “Hold on. I’ve got a call coming in from the commissioner. It never ceases to amaze me how fast news travels in our nation’s Capitol.”
Politics. Fiona bet she knew exactly what the call from the commissioner was about—and that her boss had seen it coming. The army was going to want in on the investigation. They had a right, Fiona supposed.
Whirling, she narrowed her gaze on D. C. Campbell. He’d evidently been a busy boy while she’d been directing traffic and gathering information. In less than an hour, he’d reported to someone who’d gotten the commissioner’s ear. Not an easy feat to pull in the last few days before Christmas.
He was standing over near the ice rink, and he’d been joined by the same two women she’d seen with him earlier in the exhibition room. Both were tall and striking-looking and bore a strong family resemblance to Campbell. As if they had a will of their own, Fiona’s eyes strayed to D. C. Campbell. Even now when he wasn’t gazing directly at her, there was still that little skip of her pulse to deal with.