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at large as an up-and-up businessman, the dealer ran a jewelry shop on Halstead called Forever Diamonds. He had told Jacob through secure messages exchanged on the dark web they would make the deal there.

The store was unassuming and small, nestled between a bakery and a clothing boutique. Inside, three long cases of jewelry had been organized in a U formation. There were no customers when Jacob arrived.

The dealer showed him to a back room. He silently examined the ring with a loupe while he made his assessment, then placed the ring on a piece of brown felt that had been laid out on the table between them and made his offer.

Although Jacob wasn’t sure what the ring was worth, he was certain the man was offering a fraction of its true value. “I don’t know,” he said, feigning reluctance in hopes of driving up the price. “That seems low.”

The dealer crossed his arms over his chest. “Think you can do better?” He gestured to the ring. “Take it.”

Jacob knew he couldn’t do better. The offer was more than he was getting from the pawn shops and, most importantly, it would be enough to pay off his debt to the Heartland Nursing Home. He made the deal, pocketed the cash, and while waiting on the metro, pulled out his phone to check his news feed.

Jacob didn’t care much for the news and normally paid little attention to it. But since he’d seen the first story detailing Elise’s death, he’d been watching his feed closely for further updates. With cold, trembling fingers, he clicked a story titled “Suspect Arrested in Logan Square Murder.”

When he was done reading it, he knew what he needed to do next. He needed to get into Liam’s apartment.

Christopher Bell

Chris had been dating Emma for five years and living with her for eighteen months before he’d worked up the nerve to ask her to marry him. Actually, he hadn’t asked. He’d only bought a ring, but that was a big step forward for him.

The jeweler had described it as a French Pavé diamond eternity engagement ring with a round three-carat diamond clocking in at over fifty-three thousand dollars. Except for the price, that all meant nothing to Chris. But it was pretty. Emma would love it.

What Chris knew well were stocks. He was a broker for Ellison Trust with a solid track record. He could predict the movement of the Dow better than most. It was a reputation that had gotten him booked on CNN and MSNBC, as well as quoted in The New York Times and Wall Street Journal.

To say he was good because he did his homework would be an understatement. All the brokers Chris knew did their homework, though few stayed at the office as late as he did and even fewer took stacks of documents to bed with them to read before going to sleep.

Emma couldn’t understand how anybody could put that many hours into a job. Nor could she understand why, if he brought his work home anyway, he would so often stay at the office well into the night. Although Chris had told her he could concentrate better there, she didn’t buy it. On more than one occasion, she’d accused him of having an affair.

That was something he would never do. Making her believe that, though, wasn’t always easy. Emma would snoop through his drawers, open his credit card statements, check his email. Chris knew all this and loved her anyway. He had no secrets. Not until he’d bought the ring, and that one secret he couldn’t let her uncover before he was ready.

He’d carried it around in his jacket for the first two weeks, telling himself one night or the next, or maybe this weekend, he would pop the question. Perhaps he’d take her out on his boat for a candlelight dinner and do it under the stars. But the weekend came and went and one night folded into the next and still he hadn’t asked.

Chris wasn’t concerned about her answer. Emma had been hinting at marriage for a while. If he’d came home one day, dropped the ring on the table, and said, “You wanna?”, he was confident she would have said yes. Although in practice Chris had given up the single life long ago, he was reluctant to make it official. Marriage came with a string of entanglements, not the least of which was financial. Emma had already announced she wasn’t going to sign a prenup, and that never sat right with him.

When Chris had come to terms with the reality that he wasn’t going to propose yet, he’d decided he better put the ring somewhere safe until he was finally, actually, and truly ready. He’d selected the First National on State Street because it was close to his office. Then he put the key in his wallet where Emma wouldn’t find it, and in the eight months since had thought about it exactly three times: Christmas, New Year’s, and their anniversary.

After his wallet was stolen, he promptly replaced his credit cards and went by the DMV to get a new license. The photo of Emma was digital; he could reprint that when he got around to it. But the cash was gone forever. That irritated him the most. On some level he never thought about he believed people were replaceable. Even Emma. She hadn’t been his first girlfriend, and if she left, she wouldn’t be his last. Money, on the other hand, was not. A dollar stolen was a dollar gone. When he came into possession of another, it did not fill the void of the one he no longer had.

He remembered the key to the safety deposit box several days later. He and Emma were lying in bed. They’d been making love not minutes before. Emma clung to him, one arm draped over his chest. She asked if their relationship was going anywhere, which of course meant marriage, and, more immediately, a ring, a safety