this one was at an intersection. Nora made it through and I
didn't.
As she became a speck in the distance, I could do noth-
ing except curse and wait. The thought of having flown all
that way only to lose her was turning my stomach.
Green light!
I hit the gas and my horn at the same time, tires screech-
ing. The game had changed to catch-up and I was in serious
jeopardy of losing. I glanced down at my speedometer.
Sixty, seventy, eighty miles an hour.
There! I spotted her car up ahead. I drew a sigh of relief,
slowed down, and tried to pull closer. I had two lanes to work
with and the traffic was cooperating. I could move back and
forth without being too obvious. Things were looking up.
If only I'd been doing the same.
Chapter 42
I SHOULD'VE SEEN the split coming, where the road di-
vided. I was too busy staring at the big Sealy mattress deliv-
ery truck ahead of me, preparing to overtake it.
Bad decision.
With my right foot pressed to the floor, I pulled up along-
side the truck. It blocked my view of Nora. Edging forward,
I strained my neck to see where she was.
But it was something else I saw. Big, bright yellow
drums! The kind they fill with water and stack before con-
crete dividers so instead of going
splat,
you go
splash.
I looked over at the delivery truck. We were neck and
neck, the driver peering down at me.
I glanced at those big yellow drums. They were getting
very close, very fast.
The lanes were about to split. I was in the left one, Nora
in the right. I needed to get over.
The goddamn truck!
As soon as I nosed out in front, the driver sped up. I
jammed on my horn while flooring the accelerator.
Up ahead, Nora passed the yellow drums and shot off to
the right.
I was still stuck in the left lane and running out of real
estate. Fast.
Fuck it.
I slammed on the brakes. If I couldn't cut in front, I'd duck
in from behind. All two tons of the minivan began to swerve
wildly as I watched the Sealy mattress truck -- an easy ten
tons -- start to veer. That's when I realized he wanted into
my lane.
I couldn't hear the horns behind me. Or the screech-
ing of tires. The only sound was my heart pounding as the
nose of my minivan kissed the truck's back, metal against
metal.
Sparks flew. I lost control of the wheel. I spun out wildly,
nearly flipping over. I would have were it not for one small
detail.
Splash!
My face hit the air bag, and the yellow drums did the
rest. It hurt like hell, but I knew right away. I was one lucky
son of a bitch.
Traffic started to move again as I stepped out of the mini-
van. Like me, everyone else had survived with barely a
scratch. There was water everywhere, pools of it, but that
was it.
Idiot.
I was furious with myself. Finally, I collected my-
self and made the call.
"I lost her."
"What?!" snapped Susan.
"I said --"
"I heard you. How could you lose her?"
"I had an accident."
Her register immediately shifted to concern. "Are you
okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine."
"In that case,
how the hell could you lose her?
"
"The woman drives like a maniac."
"What, and you don't?"
"I'm serious. You should've seen her."
"I'm serious, too," she barked. "You should've never lost
her."
I was pleading with myself to stay calm. However, Susan
wasn't exactly making it easy. As tempting as it was to grab
her anger and throw it right back, I realized I'd be better off
just taking it on the chin.
"You're right," I told her. "I screwed up."
She calmed down a bit. "Do you think maybe she spot-
ted you?"
"No. It wasn't like she was trying to lose me. She just
drives fast."
"How much luggage did she have?"
"A small roller. She carried it on."
"Okay, then. Cut your losses and come on back to New
York. Wherever she's going, it's safe to assume she'll be re-
turning to Connor Brown's house soon enough."
I decided that it was a good idea to change the subject.
"Did we get the okay on the dig?" I asked.
"Yes, the dig is a go. The paperwork should come soon,"
she said. "I'll let you know."
I said good-bye, and that should have been it. But this
was Susan I was talking to. In case I wasn't absolutely clear
about her disappointment, she gave me one more shot.
"Have a safe flight home," she said. "Oh, and try not to
screw up anything else today."
I listened as she hung up and then I shook my head
slowly. I started to pace, trying to burn off the anger. It
wouldn't burn off. The more I paced, the worse I felt. The
tension began working its way through my body, and before
I knew it, it all collected in my fist.
Smash!
And like that, my rented minivan had one less window.
Chapter 43
NORA TOOK ANOTHER LOOK in the rearview mirror.
Something had happened back there, maybe an accident.
If that's what it was, she assured herself that it was merely
a coincidence and had nothing to do with the weird feeling
in her stomach. The one she had had after leaving the Hertz
lot. The "I'm not alone" feeling.
Now, as she arrived in the heart of Back Bay, it seemed to
disappear.
The traffic on Commonwealth Avenue fell somewhere
between a slow crawl and a parking lot. There was some
protest march over on Newbury, and every other street was
paying the price. Nora lucked out and found a spot after cir-
cling only three times.
She'd put his wedding ring on while riding the shuttle
bus at the airport. After her customary look in the car's van-
ity mirror, she was ready to go. The suitcase came out; the
convertible top went up.
It's showtime, babe.
As usual, Jeffrey was working when she let herself in.
She'd come to realize there were only three things that took
him away from his writing. Food, sleep, and sex, not neces-
sarily in that order.
Instead of calling his name, Nora quietly walked toward
the back of the brownstone. Between his deep concentra-
tion and the background music, there wasn't a chance he'd
hear her.
She opened the door beyond the butler's pantry and
stepped out onto the private patio. With its tall fleur-de-lis
trellises covered in ivy and other strategic plantings, the
cozy area offered seclusion.
It took her only a minute to get ready. Reclining on a
cushioned wicker chaise, she reached for her cell phone and
dialed.
Seconds later she could hear the phone ringing inside.
Jeffrey finally picked up.
"Honey, it's me," she said.
"Oh, don't even tell me you're not coming."
She laughed. "Not yet I'm not."
"Wait a minute, where are you?"
"Take a peek out back."
She looked up as Jeffrey appeared in the window of his
library. His strong jaw dropped, then he started to laugh,
which she could clearly hear over the phone.
"Oh… my…" he said.
Nora was naked on the chaise lounge, except for her
sling-backs. She purred into the phone. "See anything you
like?"
"As a matter of fact, I see a lot that I like. I don't see any-
thing I don't like."
"Good. Don't hurt yourself running down the stairs."
"Who said anything about using the stairs?"
Jeffrey opened the window, climbed out, and shinnied
down the copper-plated downspout. Very athletic, actually.
All to the delight of Nora.
Whatever the world record was for a man shedding his
clothes, it was promptly broken. Then Jeffrey slowly crawled
up to her on the chaise lounge. He dug his hands deep into
the seat cushion and wrapped his muscular arms around her
back. He was a sexy man once you tore him away from his
computer.
Nora closed her eyes. She kept them shut the entire time
they made love. She wanted to feel something for Jeffrey.
Anything. But she felt nothing.
C'mon, Nora. You know what has to be done. You've been
here before.
The voice inside her head didn't sound like an old friend
now. More like an unwelcome stranger, someone she almost
didn't know. She tried to ignore it. It was no use. That just
made it louder. More insistent. More controlling.
Jeffrey climaxed, then rolled off her, out of breath.
"What a terrific surprise. You're the best."
Ask him if he's hungry, Nora.
She wanted to cry out against the little voice inside. But
that would just be a waste of time. There was only one way
to make it stop.
And she knew it.
"Where are you going?" Jeffrey asked.
Nora had risen from the chaise without a word. She was
already heading inside the house. "The kitchen," she said
over her shoulder. "I'm going to see what I can make you for
dinner. I want to cook for you."
Chapter 44
OH, BROTHER -- what to do, what to do? This is a disaster
so far.
The Tourist sat alone in the small, dingy room with an-
other Heineken. He'd already had four. Or was it five? At
this point, keeping count didn't strike him as being very im-
portant. Neither did the Yankees game droning on his TV.
Or eating the sausage-and-onion pizza getting cold on the
table in front of him.
On the table were newspaper clippings about the shoot-
out in New York. There were easily a dozen articles about
the "Sidewalk Showdown."
The story had legs, which didn't exactly surprise the
Tourist. He'd left behind a host of unanswered questions.
A lot of ink was being devoted to conjecture and specu-
lation; some of it credible, most of it wacky. The short note
that came with the clippings summed it up.
The circus is in
town. Keep your head down, Tourist. Will be in touch.
He smiled and re-read the conflicting eyewitness ac-
counts.
How was it,
wrote a columnist from the
Daily
News,
that the same event could be seen so differently by people who
were no more than twenty feet away?
"How indeed?" the Tourist said out loud. He sat back in
his chair and put his feet up on the table. He had every con-
fidence that his identity would remain a secret. He'd taken
the necessary precautions, covered his tracks. He might as
well have been a ghost.
There was only one thing bothering him now, and it
bothered him a lot.
What was the list he'd copied off the flash drive all
about? All those offshore accounts.
One point four.
Billion.
What about it?
Was it worth some poor schmuck's life outside Grand
Central?
Apparently so.
Was it worth somebody else's life?
Like his?
Definitely not.
Was it part of a bigger picture that might make sense
eventually?
Who could tell? But he sure as hell hoped so.
Chapter 45
JEFFREY PEERED ACROSS the candlelit dinner table at
Nora. "Are you sure you're okay with this?"
"Of course I am," she said.
"I don't know, you seemed a little put-off when I sug-
gested we go out instead of eating in."
"Don't be silly. This is wonderful." Nora tried to match
her body language to her words. That took some serious
acting. She was supposed to be back at his brownstone,
busy preparing his last meal. She had made up her mind.
Now here they were at Jeffrey's favorite restaurant. Nora
had never been more on edge. She felt like a racehorse at a
starting gate that refused to open.
