The images were of rough-looking stones with tints of yellow, brown, and mottled gray. Looking closely at the pictures, I could see that most resembled a rough caricature of the diamond shape, and I opened my hand to look at the stones again. Most of them had four distinct edges like a diamond. A few appeared more like a triangle, but none of them were round, like you might find in a collection of rocks or gravel. I shook my head—this couldn’t be happening.
My breath came in short puffs as I hurried into the kitchen and grabbed a Ziploc bag. I dumped the diamonds—if that’s what they were—inside, emptying them all from the fabric tube. As they cascaded on top of each other, the light glinted from the rough edges, and I reminded myself to be calm and think about what my brother Wes would do. I had seen him in stressful situations—his mind alert and his ability to make good decisions seemingly unhindered by anxiety, the same kind that was clouding mine at the moment.
Would he call the police? No, not yet. If they weren’t real diamonds, the police would just laugh at me, and even worse they might take Natalie’s dress in for examination. I sucked in a breath—I couldn’t do that to her or to her exquisite gown.
Maybe I could call Walter and have him look at the stones. A glance at the clock told me that option was also out. It was almost midnight. I’d have to use Google to help me figure out my problem. Typing in searches for checking the authenticity of diamonds brought up several pictures and pages of details. There was way more information than I could sift through in a night. I decided to try the easiest test first—scratching glass.
According to the Internet, cubic zirconium or moissanite, types of man-made stones, could also cut glass, so that test wasn’t as reliable if you were trying to see how cheap your fiancé was before you said “I do.” But I already knew these rocks weren’t man-made diamonds, so I picked out one yellowish gold stone and walked over to my patio door.
It took a second for my hand to stop shaking enough that I wouldn’t drop the gem. I located an area right near the handle that I thought might be inconspicuous. Pushing hard on the glass, I was rewarded with a tiny scraping noise. I continued pushing for about an inch, then traced the smooth cut I had just made in my glass window. I flicked on the large Mag flashlight I kept by the back door and shone into the blemish I’d created. It wasn’t just a surface scratch, like a rock might make—it was straight and deep.
I returned the diamond to the bag and stared for a minute, estimating that my quart-sized Ziploc held nearly two hundred rough diamonds. And since rough diamonds usually come from Africa (according to Google), I wondered how they had made their way into a wedding dress from China. The only explanation I could come up with was that someone was smuggling diamonds in wedding gowns, and Lorea just happened to order the wrong dress. Or dresses.
A sick feeling caused a sweat to break out on my forehead. What about the missing wedding gown from the shipment and the hole in Sylvia’s gown?
I grabbed my phone, thinking of calling Lorea. I had a moment of self-doubt. It couldn’t possibly be connected, could it? Natalie’s and Sylvia’s gowns were the most extravagant and unique that Lorea had ordered. Had someone planned to steal the dresses all along and just taken the wrong ones?
My windpipe suddenly felt tight, and I checked to make sure my front and back doors were locked. The bag of diamonds in my hand felt ominous. I should call the police. My mind sped forward over the chain of events that might take place if I put in a call to Tony, my brother’s childhood friend now turned police officer. If I told him I found diamonds in Natalie’s dress, he would surely confiscate it for the investigation. Then I wouldn’t have one missing wedding gown but two. The pearl beading in the bottom of the box came to mind, and I wondered if something bigger was going on with the dress shipment. It didn’t matter. I couldn’t report this yet. I had to protect Natalie’s gown and Lorea’s future. My future.
But Tony would definitely want to know. I wondered if I could call him as a friend. No, he was a police officer and a good detective. He would have to do his job. Lorea’s dream of her own dress shop would be crushed instantly in this tight-knit community. No one would risk getting attached to a dress if it might turn up missing or be placed under investigation for diamond smuggling.
I needed to keep Natalie’s dress until her wedding. The bag of diamonds crinkled as I tightened my grip, thinking of how I could do the right thing for Natalie, Lorea, and the police. What if I could hide the bag of diamonds in one of the boxes from the shipment? Nervous energy spun around me as a hundred different scenarios marched through my head. Could I lie to the police, to Tony, for the sake of a wedding dress?
Tomorrow, I would study the box and figure out if my idea might work. I thought about taking the diamonds with me to work and stowing them for Lorea to discover, but my throat tightened with fear. It felt too risky to carry the diamonds back and forth. I would have to formulate a solid plan first. Until then I needed a hiding place for the diamonds, and it had to be a good one. My mind ran through all the common scenarios I’d
