Chương 10
“Glad we’re reconnecting.”
He reached for my bag.
I held it tighter.
His hand stopped.
“Right.”
We walked two blocks without speaking.
At the corner, he said, “The locker facility has emergency access for authorized users.”
“Am I authorized?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s encouraging.”
“I called the manager.”
“You already called?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“He agreed to meet us.”
I stopped.
“You said it closes at nine.”
“It does.”
“Then why did you tell me tomorrow?”
“Because I wanted you to sleep first.”
I stared at him.
He sighed.
“You can be angry later.”
“I’m scheduling it.”
“That seems healthy.”
We took a cab downtown.
The private storage facility occupied the second floor of an old stone building near Broadway.
Its lobby looked more like a conservative law firm than a bank.
A gray-haired man named Mr. Levin met us behind locked glass doors.
He checked my identification twice.
Then he checked the key.
“This locker was placed under dual authorization,” he said.
“With whom?”
“Mr. Nathan Hale and Ms. Fay Hale.”
My throat tightened.
“I never signed anything.”
Mr. Levin looked uncomfortable.
“Your authorization was added through notarized estate documents.”
James leaned forward.
“Can she access it as surviving owner?”
“Yes.”
The man looked at me.
“But there is a condition.”
I almost laughed.
“Of course there is.”
Mr. Levin slid a sealed envelope across the desk.
Nathan’s handwriting was on the front.
My name.
Again.
My hands shook as I opened it.
Inside was a single sheet of paper.
The message contained only two sentences.
If you are reading this, I failed to finish something I should have told you about myself.
Before you open locker 314, call Detective Mara Keene at the number below and tell her Stephen Cole knows where your father buried the missing money.
I read the second sentence twice.
Then a third time.
James leaned closer.
“What does it say?”
I handed him the page.
He read it without moving anything except his eyes.
Mr. Levin looked politely away.
James finished and swore under his breath.
“You know this detective?”
“No.”
“I do.”
I stared at him.
“Of course you do.”
“Not well.”
“That sentence is becoming a theme.”
He ignored that and took out his phone.
“Keene works financial crimes.”
“City?”
“Joint task force now, I think.”
“You think?”
“I haven’t spoken to her in months.”
I held out my hand.
“Give me the number.”
James looked at the paper again.
“Fay.”
“No.”
“I was going to say we should call her.”
“Oh.”
He gave me his phone.
“That was disappointingly reasonable.”
I dialed Nathan’s handwritten number from my own phone instead.
It rang four times.
A woman answered.
“Keene.”
“My name is Fay Hale.”
Silence.
Not surprise.
Silence.
“I’m calling about Nathan Hale.”
The pause became heavier.
“Where are you?”
I looked at James.
He nodded once.
“Lower Manhattan.”
“Are you alone?”
“No.”
“Who’s with you?”
“James Whitfield.”
Another pause.
“Put me on speaker.”
I did.
“This is Whitfield.”
“I know your voice.”
“You know mine too.”
“I do.”
Their familiarity irritated me immediately.
Detective Keene said, “Fay, did Nathan leave instructions for you to call me?”
“Yes.”
“Exactly how?”
I read the sentence aloud.
Mr. Levin’s eyes flicked toward us before returning to his desk.
When I finished, Keene did not speak for several seconds.
Then she said, “Do not open the locker yet.”
My fingers tightened around the brass key.
“Nathan specifically told me to call you before I opened it.”
“That’s why I’m telling you not to open it.”
“Why?”
“Because if what he believed is in there, I need to be present.”
James frowned.
“Chain of custody?”
“Partly.”
I asked, “What’s the other part?”
Keene breathed out.
“Safety.”
Mr. Levin shifted in his chair.
James said, “Mara.”
“It’s Detective Keene right now.”
That answered one question I had not asked.
James’s expression changed, barely.
History.
Fine.
Add it to the pile.
“What danger could be inside a document locker?”
I asked.
“Not inside.”
Keene’s voice remained calm.
“Attached to whoever wants what’s inside.”
I looked at the locked corridor beyond Mr. Levin’s desk.
Nothing moved.
“Does Cole know about this place?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did Nathan?”
“Yes.”
“You spoke to Nathan?”
“Yes.”
“How many times?”
“Several.”
My anger sharpened.
“When?”
“Over the last four months of his life.”
I closed my eyes.
Another person.
Another private relationship with my husband that had somehow existed without touching me.
“What were you investigating?”
“Cole Meridian and related entities.”
“And my father?”
She did not answer immediately.
“Your father was part of the financial picture.”
“That’s a very careful way of saying yes.”
“It’s an accurate way.”
“Was he a suspect?”
“Not in the way you mean.”
“What way do I mean?”
“A person directing the scheme.”
James watched me closely.
Keene continued.
“We believed Gerald was used.”
I laughed softly.
“He moved one point two million dollars.”
“Yes.”
“He signed transfers.”
“Yes.”
“And you think he was used?”
“I think people can be culpable and manipulated at the same time.”
That sounded irritatingly plausible.
“What did Nathan have?”
“Enough to make Cole nervous.”
“Enough to arrest him?”
“No.”
“Enough to scare him?”
“Yes.”
I looked down at the note.
“What does ‘where your father buried the missing money’ mean?”
Keene was quiet.
“I’m not sure Nathan meant buried literally.”
James said, “He usually didn’t write dramatically.”
“That’s why I’m concerned.”
I looked at him.
“So now this sentence is unusual?”
“Yes.”
Mr. Levin cleared his throat gently.
“If I may.”
We all turned.
He folded his hands.
“Mr. Hale modified the locker access instructions three weeks ago.”
I stared at him.
“Three weeks ago?”
“Yes.”
Nathan had died four days ago.
“What did he change?”
“He added a release condition.”
James leaned forward.
“What condition?”
Mr. Levin glanced toward the phone.
“Presence of either Ms. Hale or Detective Mara Keene.”
Nobody spoke.
Then Keene said, “I’m on my way.”
She ended the call.
May you like
I looked at James.
“You didn’t know that.”
