The October List (13 page)

Yes, she kept thinking, Sarah, Sarah. The name, however, didn’t stop the stirrings deep within as she stole a glance at Daniel. But then: How can you
possibly
think of sleeping with him?

Still, she countered: Perhaps because you’ve been lonely for too many years.

And because Daniel Reardon is a little – maybe a lot – like you?

But she reminded: Stay focused.

Sarah, Sarah, Sarah …

In the hallway he said, ‘Let’s get something to eat. Or a drink at least.’

‘Yes, I guess I need something.’

That morning’s breakfast, which they’d shared, was a hazy memory.

After dropping the bags in their respective rooms, they met downstairs in the subdued, elegant lobby bar. They sat beside each other in a banquette, their knees touching. The server, a woman with severely bunned hair, approached and greeted them, sharing that her name was Liz. She inquired if they were in town on business or for a vacation. Gabriela let Daniel answer.

‘Just seeing the sights,’ he said amiably.

‘Sorry the weather’s not nicer. It was warm last week.’

They ordered: cheese and pâté and bread, and a bottle of Brunello.

Sipping the potent Tuscan wine, they talked about everything, free associating – everything, that is, except the October List and the kidnapping, much less the plastic bag. She’d brought to the table with her the files from her apartment, labeled
Prescott Investments – Open Items.
But she let them sit unopened, as if afraid they might not have the answers as to how they could save a kidnapped child.

She looked at her phone and sighed. ‘From Rafael. He got out safe and made the delivery. So far, so good.’

Nodding at this bit of good news, Daniel slipped his jacket off and she caught a glimpse of a line of reddish flesh, a scar visible in the V where his shirt tugged open. It crossed from chest to shoulder. He caught her eyes and pulled his shirt closed again, self-consciously.

‘Can I ask what happened?’

He seemed to be debating.

‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.’

‘No, I’ll tell you. A few years ago I was driving with the kids up to New Hampshire and I was really tired. I shouldn’t have pushed it. I fell asleep and went off the road.’

‘Jesus.’

‘The car went down an embankment into a river. The doors were wedged shut. It started to fill up with water.’

‘Daniel, no!’

‘God, it was cold. We’d gone to see the leaves. It was September but really frigid.’

‘What happened?’ she whispered.

‘We would all’ve drowned but some local guy happened to drive by – looked like he was out of
Deliverance
, you know? A mountain man sort, a redneck. He drove his pickup down the embankment, grabbed an ax and jumped in after us, even though the water had to be about thirty-five degrees. He just swam to the car and kept smacking away at the back window until he got us out. I got cut on a piece of metal after I shoved the boys out.’

‘Oh, how terrible.’

Daniel gave a brief laugh. ‘And, you know what? As soon as we were on the shore, he waved goodbye and left. Wouldn’t take any money, wouldn’t give me his name even. He just acted like, hell, who
wouldn’t
risk freezing to death to save somebody? Like it was the most natural thing in the world.’

‘It hurts still?’ A nod toward his chest.

‘No, no. That was five years ago. Stiff sometimes, in the damp. But that’s all.’ He grew quiet. ‘I was stupid and nearly got my sons killed. It was like that guy gave me a second chance. I don’t really think I deserved it. But there he was.’

She lowered her hand on his arm and pressed. She wanted so badly to kiss him but, with some effort, refrained. They returned to the wine and both fell silent.

Daniel signed the check and, at her suggestion, they divided up the files. They would spend the remaining hours of the evening, until exhaustion struck, looking for any leads to cash that Charles Prescott might have hidden. They walked to the elevators. When they exited the car he accompanied her to her door.

She hugged him. ‘Daniel, I—’

‘Don’t know how to thank me?’

Her response was to grip him harder and surrender to sobbing.

‘She’ll be okay,’ he said. ‘Your daughter’ll be all right.’

Gabriela wiped her eyes and, stepping away, breathed deeply. Controlled herself.

A few seconds passed; they remained immobile, listening to voices laughing a few rooms away, a TV rumbling with an action flick.

She opened her door and stepped inside, turned back to him. Daniel eased closer.

Would he kiss her? she wondered.

She wondered too how she would respond.

But instead he offered the most chaste of embraces, murmured, ‘Good night,’ and, holding his stack of folders, he stepped back into the hall. The door swung shut and she was alone.

CHAPTER
18

5:55 p.m., Saturday
2 hours, 35 minutes earlier

They walked along a northbound street on the East Side, dodging trash and tourists and early diners, night-shift workers, dog walkers and homeless men and women … or perhaps just locals who appeared homeless – scruffy, inattentive to hair and beard and laundry.

Their mission, which was proving difficult, was to find a cab to take them to her co-op apartment. Gabriela muttered angrily, ‘What they did back there, those assholes, it set us back an hour! And the deadline’s in minutes!’

‘At least you’re not in jail,’ he said.

She didn’t respond to this tepid reassurance. ‘Jesus, Daniel, it’s hopeless. I knew we couldn’t get the money in time but at least we could’ve found some concrete lead before the deadline. Something to reassure Joseph that we’d have the cash soon. But now … shit.’ Desperation crimped her voice. She jerked her head to the east and south, where they’d just come from. ‘They’re fucking sadists, those two.’

‘And where the hell are all the cabs?’ he muttered.

Several sped by, either occupied or off-duty. Daniel waved his wallet at one of the latter but the driver just kept going.

They turned up a street that was grubby, darker and more pungent than in tourist-land, less congested, in hopes of finding a taxi. They passed stores in which dusty displays of DVDs or lace and buttons or used books or hardware sat faded behind greasy glass, a sad porn shop lit with bile-green fluorescents, Chinese and Mexican take-out restaurants that could not possibly have passed city inspection. In front of several of these establishments sat slight, dark-complexioned men, smoking and speaking in hushed tones or making mobile calls.

Gabriela’s cell phone rang. She looked at her watch. ‘Deadline time.’ They paused and stepped to the brick wall of a building, so no one else could hear the conversation.

She took a deep breath, hit
Accept
and activated the speaker so Daniel could hear.

‘Joseph?’

‘Ah, Gabriela. I’ve been looking at the phone. Staring. It didn’t ring.’

‘It’s just six. I was going to call you! I swear. Listen—’

‘You have my money?’

‘I’ve found the October List!’

‘Have you now?’ That teasing voice again. ‘Cause for celebration! What does it look like? Is it thick, is it thin, is it printed on construction paper?’

She blurted, in a guttural tone, ‘Tell me – how’s my daughter?
Tell
me!’

‘She’s a little … troubled.’ As if Joseph was pouting.

‘What? What do you mean?’

‘I told her I hadn’t heard any good news from you. So there might not be any good news for her.’

‘You told her that?’ Gabriela whispered.

‘Now, what do you think? Would it be in my interest to make your daughter feel any more panicky? Honestly, I can’t even joke with you. You need to relax a bit. Okay, the money?’ he asked, his tone suddenly blasé.

‘I’ve got the
list
.’

‘Heard that part. But saying that tells me you
don’t
have the money. And since you dodged the question about describing the list, I’m a little skeptical of that too.’

‘No, no! I swear!’

‘Ever notice,’ Joseph offered, ‘when people say things like “I swear” and “you’ve got to believe me,” they are invariably lying?’

‘I’m not lying! I have it. It’s in a place for safekeeping. I didn’t want to walk around with it.’

‘Not much need for that. Proportionately there’re less muggings in New York than Portland, Maine. So, fine. You’ve found the list.
Wunderbar!
Let’s get back to money.’

‘I’ve been running around town all day trying to do what you asked,’ she cried. ‘Please, just a little more time. It’s taken longer than I thought. I’m sorry!’

‘Racked with guilt, are you?’

Daniel stiffened with anger. His face grew dark. But he remained silent.

She leaned close to the phone. ‘Please, it’s been a nightmare. The police are everywhere! I can’t just sneak into the garden behind Charles’s town house and start digging for treasure, can I?’ Her voice caught. Then she muttered angrily, ‘Tell me right now! How is my daughter?’

‘She’s alive.’

‘
Alive?
But is she okay?’

‘Pretty much.’

‘She must be terrified.’

‘And I’m afraid of heights. Snakes aren’t my favorite either. But we cope. Now, money makes the world go ’round. That was the deal we made.’ He seemed again to be pouting. ‘You’ve breached it. You’ve broken our agreement.’

‘I’ll get your money,’ she snapped. ‘I just need more time! I’m doing everything I can.’

‘More time, more time.’ His voice was taunting.

‘Just a little.’

‘Could be, you know, that you’ve found the money and you’re stalling, trying to figure out a way to keep it
and
get your daughter back.’

‘No! Why would I do that?’

‘Because you’re out of a job, remember?’

She began to tremble. Daniel put his arm around her.

Joseph said, ‘You were Charles Prescott’s office manager.’

‘Yes,’ she whispered.

‘So you know something about business?’

She hesitated. ‘What?’

‘You know about business?’ he repeated petulantly.

‘I … I know some things. What are you asking?’

‘You familiar with the concept of penalties?’ Joseph’s voice was completely flat. The smarmy tone was gone. ‘Like you don’t pay your taxes on time, there’s a penalty? Well, you didn’t pay
me
on time. You missed the deadline.’

‘I
tried
.’

‘“Try” is a non-word. Either you do something or you don’t. It’s impossible to try to do something. So. New deadline. Six p.m. tomorrow—’

‘Thank you! I—’

‘I’m not through. Six p.m. tomorrow – you deliver the October List. And, now,
five
hundred thousand.’

‘No! You can’t do that.’

‘Is that what you say to the IRS? “I’m so sorry. I
can’t
pay what you want. No penalty for me!” Look at me as the Excuse Nazi.’ Giddy once more. His laugh was nearly a giggle.

‘Why not just a fucking million?’ she raged. ‘Or ten million?’ Daniel squeezed her arm. She said to Joseph, ‘I’m doing the best I can.’

‘Ah, just like “trying.” There’s no “best” or “worst.” There’s keeping up your half of our agreement or not.’

‘We don’t
have
an agreement! You’re extorting me, you kidnap—’

‘Hello! Didn’t we have a conversation about movie dialogue? Now, consequences, I was saying: First, the penalty, the extra hundred K. Then, second, you have to go on a scavenger hunt.’

‘A what?’

‘A scavenger hunt.’

‘I don’t understand,’ Gabriela said, her voice choked.

‘What’s not to understand? It’ll be easy. I’ll bet it won’t take you more than thirty minutes to find the prize.’

‘You’re insane!’

‘Well, now, that’s all relative, isn’t it? Go to Times Square. Behind a Dumpster in the alley at Forty-Eighth and Seventh. West side of the intersection.’

‘What’s there?’ she asked in a high, shaky voice.

But Joseph’s response was to disconnect.

They didn’t need a cab.

The prize Joseph had sent them to find was only four or so blocks away. They plunged into Times Square, a disorienting world of brilliant lights, massive high-def monitors, overlapping tracks of pulsing music, hawkers, street musicians, impatient traffic, mad bicyclists, tourists, tourists, tourists … The crowds were denser now, more boisterous, anticipating plays and concerts and meals and movies.

In ten minutes they’d come to the intersection that Joseph had described. She said, ‘There! That’s the Dumpster.’ And started forward.

‘Wait,’ Daniel said.

‘No,’ she said firmly.

He tried to stop her. But she pulled away and dropped to her knees, looking behind the battered, dark green disposal unit.

Gabriela fished out the CVS pharmacy bag and looked inside. She choked. ‘It’s Sarah’s sweatshirt!’ The pink garment was wadded up tightly. She started to lift it out and froze. ‘Blood, Daniel!’ The streaks, largely dried to brown, were obvious. There was something primitive about them, like paint on the face of ancient warriors.