The October List Part 9

'Norwalk ... Oh, your company, right?'

He nodded. 'It's empty now. Off First Avenue in the Fifties.' He noted the cross street sign: 79th. 'It's a long walk,' he said. 'But I'm worried about cabs. They have that new video system, the TVs. Your picture might show up on the screen.'

'I can walk, sure.'

After five minutes, he paused and examined her. 'You can't walk.'

She sucked in a breath, then coughed. 'Subway, okay.' She leaned against him again. 'Is that man behind us, Yellow Shirt?'

'I don't see him.'

He took her arm and directed her east.

She inhaled again and let herself be led down the sidewalk. 'On Madison Avenue? He wasn't dead when we left. You saw that, right? He'll probably be okay, don't you think? He was so young.'

Daniel Reardon didn't speak for a moment. He said, 'I don't know, Gabriela. It depends on where you shot him.'

'He was married. He had a wedding ring on. Maybe he has children.'

'Gabriela ...'

'I didn't mean to. I panicked. I didn't want to hurt anybody. But they were going to stop me and I couldn't let them. It was for Sarah ... You understand. I had to do something.'

'People can get shot and still live.'

'The ambulance would be there soon, right? Probably minutes.'

At 74th and Lexington they dodged through traffic and paused at a light, next to a pushcart vendor, who called, 'You want hot dog? Pretzel?' He glanced at them with some curiosity. When they ignored him he turned to another customer and fished a frankfurter out of the gray frankfurter water.

The light changed and they crossed.

She said, 'People're looking at us, Daniel.'

'At you, Mac. Not us.'

'What?'

'Because you're beautiful.'

She gave a wan smile. She nodded at a souvenir shop. 'Hats,' she said, pointing to a rack.

'Good.'

They stepped inside.

She grabbed the first one she saw. But Daniel smiled and said, 'Maybe not.' It sported a Lady Gaga logo in glitter.

'Oh.' She picked a plain navy blue baseball cap. He picked a black one.

'Jackets?'

But all the store sold were brightly colored and sequined I New York gear, worse than the glitzy hat. Outer camo would have to wait.

They both also bought new luggage small backpacks, hers black, his dark gray.

Daniel paid, cash, and they pulled on the caps and stuffed their gym bags into the new packs.

'Not much of a disguise but different enough.'

At the door Daniel gazed out, looking for police, looking for the man in the yellow shirt, looking for Joseph.

'Nothing.'

'But-'

She took his arm and grew serious. 'Listen, Daniel. This isn't right. It's time for you to leave. Get out now. I don't think they even saw you back there, when I shot him. Get away from me.' She choked. 'This isn't your problem.'

He bent forward fast and kissed her on the lips. 'Okay, that's it.'

She blinked in surprise.

'What?'

'Do you watch that show CSI?'

'I used to.'

'Well, now you've got my DNA on you. If they catch you, I'm going down too.'

She smiled. 'Oh, Daniel ...'

'It'll be okay, Mac. I promise.'

'Mac?' She blinked, hearing him use this name.

'You're more of a Mac than a Gabriela. And come on, with a last name like McKenzie, don't tell me n.o.body's ever called you Mac?'

'True.'

Gabriela didn't tell him that she and her father used nicknames for one another, and the one he'd bestowed on his daughter was indeed 'Mac.'

'You mind?'

She smiled. 'I love it.'

'And I may just love you,' Daniel whispered.

She stiffened at the word, then let herself go and pressed against him, shoulders-to-thigh. And for a fleeting moment the horrors of the weekend vanished.

CHAPTER.

24.

10:00 a.m., Sunday

1 hour, 10 minutes earlier

Daniel and Gabriela had checked out and were sitting at a wobbly table in a coffee shop on the Upper East Side.

She nodded back to the hotel in which they'd spent the night. 'You always take girls to dives like that?'

'Only the ones I think can handle it. You pa.s.sed the test.'

She gave a wry smile and turned back to her task. Dozens of doc.u.ments sat in front of them, business records, letters, copies of emails.

She examined the last few in the pile. She leaned back. 'It looks like there's close to a million dollars in quote "miscellaneous a.s.sets" that my boss has. But there's no clue where they could be. It's so unfair! To know there's money out there, enough for the ransom, but not know where it is. How the h.e.l.l'm I going to get Joseph his G.o.dd.a.m.n money?'

Daniel examined his half of the doc.u.ments and he admitted that he had found nothing helpful either.

Gabriela's coffee sat untouched before her. Daniel was drinking tea. Two bags sat in the cup, dyeing the water ruddy brown. Not many people drank tea, she reflected. Her mother did. For the past six years, though, the woman mostly just stared at the cup of cooling English Breakfast on the table in the a.s.sisted-living home.

Forget that. Concentrate. This is important, this is vital.

Gabriela found herself sweating. She wiped her palms on her blue jeans. She'd peeled off the windbreaker, but the restaurant was hot and her wool sweater, which she'd knitted herself, was warm. The pale green garment was thick. She remembered picking out the yarn, searching online to find a good pattern for the collar and sleeves, an Irish chain.

She sipped coffee and picked at toast, for which she had no appet.i.te. Then, with both hands, she gestured desperately at the doc.u.ments and muttered, 'Where do we go from here? Safe-deposit boxes?'

'The police will've found them all, locked them down.'

They were silent, surrounded by the sound of the milk steamer, Muzak from CDs offered for sale, a little conversation and a lot of clattering keyboards. Looking out of the window, she noted the silhouette of the Queensboro Bridge, 59th Street. It was stark against an indifferent sky.

Gabriela had a sip of coffee, then another. It was bitter. She didn't mind. The sharp flavor made her alert.

'Did you find anything about this mysterious Gunther?' he asked.

'Nothing.'

'What about family property?'

'What do you mean?'

'Your boss's parents? Brothers and sisters? Someplace that was held in a different name than Prescott.'

Gabriela said quickly, 'Yes, yes! There is.' Her eyes grew wide. 'That could be it. When Charles's father died last year, he and his siblings were going to put the family home on the market but they decided they had to fix the place up first. Charles would go up there every few months to work on it. It's still being renovated.'

'Whose name was it under?'

'It was a trust the lawyers named something like One Oh Nine Bedford Road Trust.'

'The police might not have heard about it yet.'

She continued, 'I've seen pictures. It'd be perfect to hide money it's old, two hundred years. And has dozens of rooms and a huge bas.e.m.e.nt. How big is a million dollars?'

Daniel laughed. 'I wouldn't know. My clients use wire transfers. But it's probably not as big as you'd expect. Where is the house?' he asked.

'Near Ridgefield, Connecticut. In the western part of the state, near the New York border.'

'I know it. We could get up there and back in time before the deadline.' We can take my car. I garage it a couple blocks from here.' But then he frowned and asked, 'Is the phone up there still working?'

'I don't know. Why?'

'You better try it first, before we show up.'

'Why? You think Charles's hiding there? The police traced him to the Caribbean.'

'No,' Daniel said. 'I think the police might be there.'

'Oh. Of course.' She lifted her mobile.

But Daniel stopped her, pointing to a pay phone in the back of the shop.

'You think they're tracing incoming calls?' she asked.

'I'm way past paranoia at this point.'

She rose and walked to the phone, lifted the receiver and fed in some coins. Two minutes later she was back at the table, scooting the chair next to him.

She offered a rueful look. 'Good decision, Daniel.'