Page 88 of Paging Dr. Hart
Rafe notices the plastic bag at my feet. “You found them? The diamonds?” He stares greedily.
I step in front of the gemstones, partially blocking them from his view. “They aren’t yours, Rafe.”
His face darkens with anger. “That’s bullshit. You wouldn’t know about them if I hadn’t told you. You can’t have them.”
“You’re right,” I say, agreeing. “I can’t have them, and neither can you. We never should have taken them. It was wrong.”
“What are you going to do? Return them? Johnny’s dead, remember?” Rafe argues.
“Dead? Diamonds? Tiffy, what’s going on?” The bewildered look in Ethan’s eyes pierces my heart. But I can’t have this conversation right now. Not here, surrounded by the worst horrors of my past.
“Oh, Tiffany,” Rafe says spitefully. “Didn’t you tell him? About how you made money from selling your body on the Strip while you were in high school? Did you forget to mention that little detail? Did you forget to tell him about me?”
“Shut up,” Ethan growls and takes a menacing step toward Rafe, but not before I see the shadow of betrayal in his eyes.
“Ethan, it wasn’t like that. He’s making it sound worse than it was.” I grab his arm, attempting to turn Ethan’s gaze away from Rafe and back to me. I’m desperate to make him understand, but he won’t look at me.
“Please, Ethan. Listen to me—”
“Ignore her,” Rafe interrupts, his gaze locked on Ethan. “Listen tome. That bag she’s got has diamonds in it. You give the bag to me, and we’ll split them. There’s plenty for both of us.” His grin is as slippery as a snake.
Ethan glares at Rafe, his lip curled in disgust. “No deal.”
The smile slides off Rafe’s face, leaving rage behind. He refocuses on me. “Come on, Tiffany. Give me the diamonds. I need them more than you do.”
“Yeah, and what are you going to do with them? Drugs? Guns? More lives ruined?” I shake my head, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Not this time,” he protests, placing a hand over his heart. “I’m going straight. I swear it.”
“That’s what you said last time, yet here we are, right where you left me.” I fling a hand out, sweeping it over the dirty, decrepit room. “You’ll have to forgive me, Rafe, but your promises mean nothing,” I sneer, decades-old anger and resentment stirring to life. “Besides, the diamonds belong to Stewart. He’s the next of kin.”
Rafe scoffs, “Why? They didn’t belong to Johnny. He stole them or got them as payment for something illegal, so they don’t belong to Stewart either.” He gives me a dismissive glance. “Are you really so naïve to think Stewart would do something noble with them? Do you know what he’s been up to since you’ve been gone?”
He’s got me there. I don’t know where Stewart is or what he’s doing now. It’s been too painful to check up on him. If my actions had ruined his life, I don’t think I could have gone on.
“I can give them to charity.” I kick the bag lightly, the stones inside clinking together. “Donate them anonymously. Let them do some good for once.”
Rafe snorts. His tone drips with condescension. “Do you really think the government will let them keep the diamonds? Whoever you’re giving them to? Something so obviously stolen. The FBI will take them away, and no one will ever see them again. They might end up used for all the things you’re so opposed to. Guns. Drugs. Who knows?”
What am I going to do? I imagine the diamonds, but now, instead of seeing them as something beautiful, something to covet, I picture them bathed in blood. How did Johnny get them? What kind of suffering were they payment for? He sure as hell didn’t get them for selling Girl Scout cookies. Maybe it would be better if they didn’t exist. Then no one—not Rafe or Stewart or even me—could use them for our own gain.
“No. You aren’t getting the diamonds, Rafe. No one is.” I turn to Ethan. “Can you watch him for a minute?”
He nods once, face stern.
I pick up the bag, loop it over my fingers, and hurry out into the hallway. A couple of turns later, I stand next to a box of explosives. It has a heavy lid on it, which I pry off with some effort. Terrified, I stare at the sticks of dynamite and clay-like explosive material inside. Wires run in a thick bundle through the middle. I have no idea their purpose beyond the fact that at least one of them must trigger the detonation.
There are no windows in this hallway. No way to tell if it’s day or night. How much time has passed since I entered the Starlight? How many hours, or maybe minutes, until the hotel implodes? If they triggered the explosives right now, I would be dead within seconds. It’s like staring down the barrel of a gun.
Just as I’d hoped, there’s some extra space in the box. The bag of jewels is heavy in my hands. The weight of them is heavy in my mind, too. I’m about to cram the bag into the box when, at the last minute, I hesitate. The diamonds are cold and sharp-edged against my skin as I plunge my hands into them. I take a fistful in each hand and quickly shove the sparkling gemstones into my pockets. The rest stay in the bag, which I place into the explosives box. I doubt Rafe will be clever enough to search in here. After I fit the lid on tight, I rush back to the supply room. The scene is exactly as I left it, Rafe and Ethan glaring at each other with tension crackling between them. What lies did Rafe tell Ethan while I was gone?
When I touch Ethan’s arm, he flinches away. I drop my hand, stung. Ethan turns a grim, flat gaze to me, and I almost don’t recognize him. Have I already lost him? Pain, actual physical pain, slices into my chest. I’m sure it’s my heart breaking.
After I pull in a deep breath, I address Ethan and Rafe, my gaze moving back and forth between them. “We need to leave before they light this place up.”
Meeting Rafe’s eyes, I ask him, “Are you coming or not?”
He looks at us warily. I can see that he’s calculating his chances of overcoming Ethan. But Ethan’s roundhouse kick must have beaten some sense into him because, eventually, he nods. Rafe stands and, frowning heavily, joins Ethan and me as we leave the room and walk through the twisting hallways.
