The October List

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