Golden Lies (9 page)

"Thank you."

"Are you a friend of Paige's?" Martin asked Riley as he got to his feet.

"His grandmother is the owner of the dragon we're interested in acquiring," Paige explained, as the two men sized each other up. They were night and day, she thought. Riley was midnight with his black hair, olive skin, and light blue eyes. Martin was sunlight -- blond, clean, a golden boy. They were both good-looking men, but they didn't seem to care for each other at all. Their matching frowns showed wariness and distrust, maybe a bit of rivalry. Which was completely idiotic, because Riley was a customer and Martin was—well, she didn't know exactly what he was, but this little display of showmanship was the last thing she needed. "Riley was just leaving," she added, breaking the tension.

"I'll talk to you tomorrow." Riley tipped his head in her direction, then strode off down the hall.

"What were you doing with him, Paige? It's after ten o'clock." Martin sat down in the chair next to her, looking decidedly put out.

"It's a long story."

"I think we have time."

She sighed. Sometimes Martin was like a dog with a bone. "I wasn't out on a date, if that's what you're thinking. Mr. McAllister's dragon has gone missing. I think my father took it from the store."

Martin looked surprised. "That doesn't make sense at all."

"No, it doesn't. But right now it's the least of my worries. Where's Grandfather?" she asked abruptly. "Does he know what happened?"

"Yes, of course. He's upstairs with the chief of staff, Dr. Havenhurst. They're making sure the best doctors are on the case. He'll be down shortly."

She tapped her fingers against her legs. "What's taking so long? Damn, I hate this. And where are the police? Why aren't they here telling us what happened?"

"A detective checked in with your mother when we first got here. He'll report back as soon as he has any more information. They're investigating the crime scene now."

"What was my father doing in Chinatown?" She didn't like the way Martin avoided her gaze. "If you know, you have to tell me. My mother said something about a woman?" She lowered her voice, not wanting her mother to hear her, but Victoria and Joanne were engaged in a low conversation of their own. "Do you know who that would be?"

Martin shifted in his seat and tugged at his tie. She'd never seen him appear so uncomfortable. "What matters right now is your father's health." He took her hand in his.

His fingers were colder than Riley's had been. His reassuring squeeze chilled rather than comforted. Maybe because she knew he was keeping something from her, and she didn't like it. That was one of the problems with their relationship; she didn't think Martin respected her, or perhaps it was just that his loyalties always seemed to lie more with her parents or her grandfather than with her.

"I'm sorry, Paige," he said quietly, concern in his eyes. "I wish I could make this go away for you."

Now she was sorry for being so annoyed with him. He was a good man. And he'd come running to the hospital as soon as he'd heard the news. "I'm just on edge." She pulled her hand from his and stood up. "I can't sit here. I'm going to take a little walk, see if I can find someone who knows something. I'll be back in a few minutes. Watch out for my mother, all right?"

"Always," he said reassuringly. "And you, too, if you'll let me."

That was a question she'd save for another day.

* * *

Riley ran into the police detective getting off the elevator. A short, squat, muscular man with thick brown hair and cynical black eyes, Tony Paletti was a third-generation San Francisco Italian and a fifteen-year veteran with the SFPD. Riley knew Tony from some of the events on which they'd coordinated security.

"Hey," Riley said with a nod. "Are you working the Hathaway mugging?"

"You know something about it?" Tony stepped off to one side to avoid an orderly pushing a wheelchair down the hall.

"I was with Paige Hathaway when she found out about her father. Was he robbed?"

"Looks like it. Wallet, money, credit cards are missing. Hathaway was in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Was anything else found at the scene?"

"Like what?"

Riley hesitated, debating the wisdom of saying anything, but then again secrecy would help the Hathaways more than his grandmother. "A statue that looked like a dragon?"

Tony's eyes narrowed. "No, but do you want to tell me why you're asking?"

"My grandmother found an antique statue in her attic. Hathaway's was appraising it."

"And you think he had it with him?"

"Possibly."

"Is this thing worth much?"

"Could be worth a lot, but we don't know yet."

Tony took out a small spiral notebook and jotted down some notes. "I'll speak to Mrs. Hathaway. See if she knows what her husband was doing in Chinatown, who he might have gone to see. I need to drum up some witnesses fast. I already got a call from the mayor. The Hathaway family is very important to the city. They want his assailant behind bars ten minutes ago, if you know what I mean."

Riley nodded, knowing the pressure the cops would be under to solve this case as soon as possible. By morning the press would be all over it, too.

Paige came around the corner, startling him with her sudden appearance. She looked just as surprised to see him standing with the police officer.

"Are you the officer investigating my father's attack?" she asked Tony.

"And you are?"

"Paige Hathaway. I'm his daughter."

"I'm sorry about your father, Ms. Hathaway."

"Thank you. Can you tell me any more about what happened?"

"Not yet, I'm afraid. We're still investigating the scene. Do you know what business your father had in Chinatown?"

"I have no idea."

"Did he have friends there? Business associates?"

"Probably both. My father specializes in purchasing Asian art. He has many contacts in the Chinese community."

"Sounds like we'll need a big net. I'll need you to sit down with someone and give us a list of names. But right now I'd like to speak to your mother. Is she available?"

"She's in the waiting room."

Before Tony could move down the hall, the elevator doors opened and a uniformed officer stepped out. Tony walked over to greet him, and they began to converse in hushed tones.

"What do you think that's about?" Paige asked Riley.

"Probably your father's case."

"I hope they caught the bastard."

"If they didn't, they will," he reassured her.

"They better. It's cold in here, don't you think?" She shivered, clasping her arms more tightly about her waist.

Riley shouldn't have put his arms around her. He knew it as soon as her breasts brushed his chest. But it was too late then. Her cheek was pressed against his heart, her hair tickled his chin, and her arms crept around his body, holding on to him with a tight desperation that he suspected had a lot to do with fear. He wished he had as good an excuse for hugging her back.

"I'm sorry," Paige said, pulling away far too soon. "I don't know what came over me. I don't usually throw myself into people's arms like that."

"Miss Hathaway?" Tony walked back to join them. "Do you recognize this bracelet?" He extended his hand, a gold bangle in his palm.

She shook her head. "I've never seen it before. Where did you find it?"

"It was found near your father. It might not have anything to do with him, but there's an inscription. It says '
Jasmine, my love
'. Do you know anyone named Jasmine?"

"Jasmine," Paige echoed, looking confused. "I -- I don't think so."

Despite her denial, Riley had the feeling something in the name had registered with Paige.

"I'll ask your mother." Tony closed his fingers over the bracelet.

"Wait," Paige said. "Do you need to ask her now? She's upset."

"If this bracelet can help us find who assaulted your father ..."

"You're right," Paige agreed. "Go ahead."

"From what I've seen, your mother is a very strong woman," Riley said quietly as they watched the detective stride away.

Paige looked at him with indecision in her eyes. "Yes, she is."

"You've heard the name Jasmine before, haven't you?"

She hesitated. "There's a painter named Jasmine Chen. We've bought some of her work for the store. But that doesn't mean that she and my father ... He wouldn't do that. He's not a bad man. At least, I don't think he is." She pressed a hand to her temple, looking paler than she had before. "The truth is I don't know what kind of man he is, and I'm terrified that I won't have the chance to find out. What if he doesn't make it? God, I shouldn't have said that."

"Give yourself a break. You're human."

"No, I'm a Hathaway. The press will be all over this before morning. And if there's speculation about another woman ..." she let out a sigh. "I should get back to my mother. She might need me." She paused, then let out an odd laugh that sounded incredibly sad. "Who am I kidding? She doesn't need me. I didn't even think she needed my father until a few minutes ago." Paige seemed to be talking to herself more than to him. She suddenly started. "Was I talking out loud?"

"I didn't hear a thing," he lied.

She stared at him for a long moment. "I can't quite figure you out."

"Likewise," he replied.

"Thanks for the ride."

Riley watched her walk away, the stiffness of her spine no doubt worthy of the very best Hathaway. She had her game face back on, and she would do anything to protect her family.

But right now he had his own family to worry about -- his grandmother's possibly priceless dragon. And the only clue he had was Jasmine Chen, a local painter. She shouldn't be that difficult to find.

* * *

Jasmine turned over in bed, her legs twisting in the hot sheets. She wanted to escape from the dream that raced through her head once again, but it had her in its grip, the jade green light burning from two bright eyes, the makeshift altar with the candles, the fireworks bursting outside. Then there was nothing but darkness, the swish of fabric against her face, the terror of no way out, the screaming, the terrible, terrible screaming of a woman, the harsh grip on her arm, the wrenching pain ...

She woke up abruptly, sweat dripping down her face. The dream always began and ended the same way. But tonight was worse, because today the dream had become a reality.

The dragon from her nightmares existed. It wasn't a figment of her imagination, as her mother had assured her over the years. It was real. David had shown it to her. It matched the vision in her head, the one she had painted so many times, trying to understand what her dreams might mean. For there had to be a meaning, a reason why her mind kept taking her back to that place. What was she was supposed to learn? And why couldn't she learn it, understand it?

Untangling herself from the sheets, she walked over to the window and threw it open. The cold air washed over her, cooling the fever in her body, in her head, but she still felt frustrated. She was close to something. She could feel it in her heart, a heart that sang to the past more than to the present. It was a love she shared with David, a love of history, of China, of people and places that seemed both magical and yet very real, as if she had lived there once. But she hadn't lived there. Her parents had been born in China, but she had been born here in Chinatown, just a few blocks away in an apartment that she'd shared with her three brothers and one younger sister. How could she know of things that had happened a continent away and several lifetimes ago? Was it just her imagination, or did she have an old soul, as a fortune-teller had once told her?

Shivering, she stayed by the window, refusing to give in to the cold or to the reality of her life. She tried not to look down, not to see what was right before her, because so much of her present was not what she wanted it to be. Instead, she looked up at the moon and the stars, to her dreams, her desires. She was a fool, she knew that, too. Foolish to believe in miracles. Her life had been hard since the day she was born missing the index finger on her left hand, a sign of just how inadequate she was and would be. She had disappointed so many people in her life. So why was she here on this earth? What was she supposed to accomplish with her life?

The answers had something to do with the dragon. She knew it with a certainty that she couldn't explain. David knew it, too. He was as much a dreamer as she was. And her persistent dreams had always intrigued him. Over the years, they had looked through centuries of stories about dragons to find some similarity to the one in her dreams. Only one tale had come close, but that tale involved two dragons connected together. She never dreamed about two, only one. Unless they were a perfect match, unless they blended together as one in her dreams. She remembered seeing a rough sketch of those dragons in a book of Chinese fairytales, and there had been a small similarity, but neither had really matched the dragon in her dreams. Another dead end, she had thought. But today ... when her fingers had traced the joint opening where two dragons could become one, she had known the truth.