CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Owen leaned back against the headrest of his seat and closed his eyes. He pressed the phone against his ear and replayed the message for the third time. He’d listened to it in the first go-around on the car’s hands-free connection. He’d been making use of the driving time to clear out his voice mail. All boring stuff. But he’d pulled over into a neighborhood swimming pool’s parking lot and sent this particular message back into the handset once he’d realized, in the first ten seconds, who had called.

“Mr. Haig, my name is Jonathan. You may remember me. We only met once, a few years ago, but it was kind of a standout experience. I have to think it was for you, too. A sale . . . hit a snag at the last possible minute. It was unfortunate. I’ll be honest, I still don’t know what to think.

“You and your employer probably hold me responsible. But considering all that happened, you might understand why I’ve been reluctant to reach out. Our mutual friend, what happened to her, well, I’ve had a hard time moving past it, myself. It was easy to think it was you, but, to be fair, I didn’t know her all that well. I wouldn’t have thought she would do anything like that. But I just don’t know. Either way, I trusted too much—you or her. That’s my own fault. It kills me that I’ll never know. I’ll never hear her side of it. So . . .”

The pause cut down to a silence that was clean enough to have Owen thinking it was the end of the message.

But then the guy started up again after a sharp, resigned breath, in and out. “Yeah. So. Things being what they are, I’m in a strange position. The item is still available. Of course, there would be a lot to talk about. And I would need much better assurances than I had last time. I realize that this ship may have sailed. Your employer may not want to acquire this piece anymore. And really, it might be better, safer, for me to simply start all over.

“But after everything, this thing seems . . . cursed. Not that I believe in that sort of stuff. But if that doesn’t bother them, or you, I’d prefer to be rid of it. I don’t know, maybe the history of it is a deal breaker. That’s fine, too. In light of everything, I just thought I’d extend the first gesture. Maybe to try to set things right. If you want to talk about it, call me back at this number. I look forward to hearing from you.”