The October List Part 14

He now said, 'Evidence. There'll be DNA on it' a nod toward the bag 'maybe even Joseph's fingerprints ... if he got careless.'

'Sure. I hadn't thought about that. I was emotional.'

'Pretty understandable under the circ.u.mstances.'

They now drove in silence. When the cab breached Central Park and was nearing her apartment she glanced at the driver to see if he was listening but he was on the mobile speaking in some Middle Eastern language, lost in his conversation. She whispered to Daniel, 'The police'll be watching. Joseph could be too.'

So she directed the driver to the street one block north, behind the apartment building. The yellow cab parked on a dark side street. 'I'll just be a few minutes,' she told the driver.

But the waiting clock on the cab meter was running and he couldn't have cared less what his pa.s.sengers were up to, what secret missions loomed. He resumed his staccato conversation.

Gabriela slipped from the cab and, walking close to the walls of the adjacent buildings, as if spies were after her, made her way to the service door of her apartment. The loading dock wasn't locked but the door leading into the bas.e.m.e.nt was. Her front door key, however, let her in.

In five minutes she was in her apartment, which she kept dark. Working mostly by feel, she found and stuffed clothing and the business files she wanted into her nylon gym bag and then looked out of the door carefully, checking to make sure there were no neighbors or, of more concern, NYPD officers lurking in the halls. But no one was present.

She locked the door behind her.

Outside once more, she slipped quickly into the backseat and the driver eased away from the curb.

Daniel pressed her knee.

After several blocks: 'Sarah,' she said, a plaintive musing. 'I wonder what she's doing now, what's going through her mind.'

'Don't think about that,' Daniel whispered. She felt the enveloping sense of warmth as his arm encircled her shoulders again.

Winding through Sat.u.r.day-evening traffic, which slowed with congestion around Lincoln Center, the cabbie steered south and east through Midtown. In ten minutes they were at the Waldorf Astoria. Daniel paid the driver and they stepped out onto the sidewalk on Park Avenue. Using a napkin again, he took the plastic bag, with its sick contents, and stuffed it into his gym bag.

'Be careful,' she said, numbly. 'The blood.'

As they walked into the lobby, she stopped and blinked. 'My G.o.d, it's beautiful.'

'You've never been to the Waldorf?'

'Not exactly in my financial genetics.'

'I generally just meet clients here, but I've stayed a few times. When I'm having work done on my place. This's old New York. That's what I like about it.'

Her head swiveled back and forth, taking in the rich wood, the ma.s.sive clock in the center of the lobby, the soaring ceilings.

'Come on,' he said. 'We'll sightsee later.'

At the desk, they checked in, two rooms, Daniel using his credit card; he was worried that the police or someone else who might want the October List could track her here if she used hers. Datamining was all the rage nowadays, she'd read in The New Yorker.

They got out of the elevator. Their rooms weren't adjacent but were on the same floor, not far apart. As they walked down the corridor, Gabriela felt the seeds of attraction unfolding again even greater than the feelings she'd sensed in the bar yesterday when they'd met.

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 pte and bread, and a bottle of Brunello.

Sipping the potent Tuscan wine, they talked about everything, free a.s.sociating 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!'

'G.o.d, 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 sh.o.r.e, he waved goodbye and left. Wouldn't take any money, wouldn't give me his name even. He just acted like, h.e.l.l, 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 pa.s.sed; 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., Sat.u.r.day

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 a.s.sholes, 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 rea.s.surance. '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 rea.s.sure Joseph that we'd have the cash soon. But now ... s.h.i.t.' Desperation crimped her voice. She jerked her head to the east and south, where they'd just come from. 'They're f.u.c.king s.a.d.i.s.ts, those two.'

'And where the h.e.l.l 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 pa.s.sed stores in which dusty displays of DVDs or lace and b.u.t.tons or used books or hardware sat faded behind greasy gla.s.s, a sad p.o.r.n shop lit with bile-green fluorescents, Chinese and Mexican take-out restaurants that could not possibly have pa.s.sed 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 blase.

'I've got the list.'