“Wait.”
He doesn’t say anything.
“WAIT.”
“Rachel—”
“Oh my God. You think I stole it!”
“No.”
The answer comes so quickly that I almost don’t believe him.
“Really?”
“I watched you give it back.”
Relief washes over me.
“Oh, thank God.”
“Unfortunately, the restaurant’s security cameras don’t have quite the same perspective.”
I stare at him.
Then at the security guard.
Then back at him.
“Are you telling me I’m a suspect?”
Bronson sighs.
“Technically, everyone who had access to the ring is a potential suspect.”
My mouth falls open.
Holy shit.
I’m a suspect.
An actual suspect.
In an actual crime.
I grab his arm.
“Bronson!”
“What?”
“THIS IS JUST LIKE DATELINE!”
He stares at me. Then slowly looks toward the ceiling. He mouths something I can’t quite hear. But I think it’s a prayer for strength.
Unfortunately, my enthusiasm doesn’t last particularly long.
Mostly because the security guard informs me that I need to remain in the restaurant until the police arrive.