The October List

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 nobody’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 passed the test.’
    She gave a wry smile and turned back to her task. Dozens of documents 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 assets” 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 hell’m I going to get Joseph his goddamn money?’
    Daniel examined his half of the documents 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 assisted-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 appetite. Then, with both hands, she gestured desperately at the documents 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