Page 59 of Holding On

“Yeah,” I say. “I was even nervous walking up here with them in my backpack after lunch.”

This part is true. I was a wreck. I had the cab driver drop me off at the barge just for authenticity, and I put the jewels in my backpack. Every time I heard a step beside me or someone would dive in or out of an alley, I’d flinch. I must have looked like a walking victim. It’s surprising I didn’t get mugged in the parking lot outside the courthouse.

I hand him the slim velvet case and the square box.

“Do you mind if I take a peek?”

This catches me off guard. “No, go ahead, it’s fine. They were my mother’s,” I repeat. He opens the small case with the diamond earrings. I’m afraid my voice sounds staged, as if I’m reminding myself more than telling him. He opens the case and turns on his desk lamp.

“These are beautiful,” he says and reaches into that top desk drawer. Without even glancing at the contents, he’s retrieved a jeweler’s loop and is examining the earrings with an expertise I wasn’t expecting.

He walks to the window for better light and lifts the blind completely.

“You really know what you’re doing,” I say.

“Oh, just a hobby of mine. Comes in handy in a few cases to have some knowledge of jewels.” He pauses and brings one of the earrings even closer.

“This is exquisite. Simple. Your mother had taste.” The earrings glitter in his hand. “These are quite valuable, beyond the personal. I see why you’re nervous.” He reaches for the slender velvet case, and I hand it over as well. “Why would you travel with them?”

A simple question, and it makes sense. But there’s something almost reptilian about the way he stares at me, unblinking, when he asks.

In the rush to find something suitable and safe, I’d forgotten to think about any backstory. I hadn’t thought this through. Then I think about what makes the most sense.

Shrugging, I start another story. I’m getting good at this. It’s almost scary.

“I didn’t want to leave them in California. My family’s moving, and I thought they would get lost. It’s the control freak part of me.” I smile.

“And this is a necklace?”

I nod again and swallow. “I’ve never even worn that. I’ve worn the earrings, but not that.” Here, he opens it up, and for just a moment, he freezes. There’s a hesitancy. Something happens in his face. I don’t know what it is. Recognition? Surprise? And then I realize: he thinks this was out of my mother’s price range. Her class. Her race.

“This is a beautiful piece.” He takes it out and lays it on the table.

It lies in the sun, demanding to be seen. In a second, the moment has vanished and he’s all business.

“Very nice,” he says. He picks it up, puts it back into the box, and snaps it shut. “We’ll be sure to put these in there right away.”

He stands in front of me, unblinking, smiling. Without moving, he agrees with himself. “Of course, of course. Right away.”

I don’t expect the single hard shove with his hand to move the bookcase. The guy is strong, and there’s an anger there—something behind that push.

“I can go now,” I say. “I trust you. I don’t need to see you put it in there.”

“Oh, I think you should,” he says, and his smile ends at the corners of this lips. “Isn’t that what you want? To see me put them away?”

“Well—”

“Trust is a matter of perception. You seem extraordinarily trustworthy. And trusting.”

Somehow, none of this sounds like a compliment coming from Barr.

He walks over to the safe, bends down, his back to me, opens the safe, and deposits them inside.

***

Midafternoon, Barr is scheduled in court. At two thirty-five, Gretchen leaves as well for a doctor’s appointment that Barr tried to get her to cancel, but she’s stubborn. Once more, I find myself alone in the office. It’s almost too good to be true.

I rummage through her desk, which, though very organized, is not locked. But there’s nothing. No list of passcodes, no combination. She obviously commits everything to memory.