Chương 5
“It smelled like old paper,” Mara said. “And oranges.”
“Fresh oranges?”
“No. Like lotion.”
“Was it warm or cold?”
“Cold.”
“Could you hear traffic?”
“Not much.”
“Voices?”
“Two men. The woman was on the phone.”
“Did either man use a name besides Randy?”
Mara closed her good eye.
“One said Mr. Bell.”
Adrian’s hand closed around the back of a chair.
The nurse glanced at him, then returned to Mara.
“What did he say?”
“He said, ‘Mr. Bell, don’t make this worse.’ Then something hit the door.”
“Did you hear Mr. Bell answer?”
“I heard someone making a noise.”
“What kind of noise?”
Mara looked at Adrian.
“I don’t know.”
“You’re doing well,” the nurse said. “It’s all right not to know.”
Mara’s shoulders lowered slightly.
“Did you see any boxes clearly?”
“Some had blue cloth on them.”
“Cloth?”
“Like blankets, but thin. One had a number written on a white tag.”
“Do you remember the number?”
“Four-one-seven.”
Adrian looked toward Park. She wrote it down.
The family archive used blue conservation wrap on furniture and framed artwork. White tags carried three-digit item numbers.
The Vale Foundation maintained two repositories. One in Connecticut, where the valuable pieces were stored under climate control, and another in a converted shipping warehouse in Red Hook for objects awaiting appraisal or disposal.
Lydia Crane controlled both budgets.
Park saw the conclusion on Adrian’s face.
“Do not call her,” she said.
“I wasn’t going to.”
“You were.”
“I was going to ask Victor whether item four-seventeen exists.”
“That is calling her with an extra step.”
Adrian looked at Mara.
She was watching both of them.
He took his phone from his pocket and placed it face-down on the counter.
Mara noticed.
The nurse finished the photographs and brought warm water and gauze. Mara cleaned her own cheeks. The dirt came away first, then the dried tracks of tears. She avoided the bruised eye. When the gauze touched the corner of her mouth, she winced.
Adrian poured water into a paper cup.
She accepted it after a pause.
“Where am I going tonight?” she asked.
“Not home,” Park said.
Mara looked at Adrian.
“You can stay somewhere secure.”
“That sounds like a prison.”
“It can be a hotel.”
“With your guards?”
“Different guards.”
“Chosen by Victor?”
“Yes.”
“What if Victor chose Nolan?”
Victor, standing outside the open door, heard her.
His face remained composed, but he looked older.
Adrian sat in the chair beside the examination table.
“You can choose,” he said.
“Choose what?”
“Where you feel safest.”
“My mom.”
“As soon as the doctors allow it.”
“And before that?”
“A hospital room. A police safe location. Your aunt’s apartment. A hotel floor with officers outside. My house.”
Mara took a small sip of water.
“Your house has too many windows.”
“I can close the curtains.”
“That isn’t what I mean.”
Adrian looked at her over the rim of the cup.
“No,” he said. “It isn’t.”
Park’s phone vibrated. She stepped into the hall, answered, and returned less than a minute later.
“They found Jonas Bell.”
Mara’s cup bent under her fingers.
“Is he alive?” Adrian asked.
“Yes. He walked into an urgent-care clinic in Jersey City with a stab wound in his shoulder and a concussion. He says he was forced into the trunk of his vehicle, got out when it stopped, and hid because he believed the people who attacked him had access to police dispatch.”
“Why would he believe that?” Park asked.
“He said one of them repeated part of a call he made to 911 before they took his phone.”
Victor spoke from the doorway.
“Nolan had access to our public-safety liaison feed.”
Park looked at him.
“Had?”
“He has none now.”
“Your organization has a liaison feed to police dispatch?”
“Limited incident alerts around protected principals.”
“That arrangement is going to become a separate conversation.”
“Understood.”
Park looked as though she doubted that.
Her phone rang again.
This time she listened longer.
When she ended the call, her expression had changed.
“The vehicle used to collect Mara was registered to Vale Holdings,” she said. “Fleet unit twenty-eight. It was reported in maintenance this morning.”
“Which facility?” Adrian asked.
“West Forty-Ninth Street.”
Victor checked his phone.
“That garage is managed through Crane Operations.”
Park looked at Adrian.
“Lydia Crane?”
“Yes.”
“Where is she now?”
Adrian checked the time. Seven fifty-eight.
“She was supposed to meet me at the restaurant at eight.”
Mara lifted her head.
“The woman said they needed the picture before eight.”
No one spoke.
Adrian picked up his phone.
Park moved between him and the door.
“What are you doing?”
“Seeing whether Lydia arrived.”
“You are not warning her.”
“I’m checking my messages.”
He unlocked the screen and held it where Park could see.
There were three missed calls from Lydia Crane.
The first at seven thirty-nine.
The second at seven fifty-one.
The third at seven fifty-six.
A message followed.
I’m at Sarno’s. Victor’s people won’t let me enter. What happened?
Park read it twice.
“If she planned this,” she said, “she’s either very confident or very stupid.”
“Lydia is not stupid.”
“Confidence will do.”
Mara leaned against the raised back of the examination table.
“Ask her what she’s wearing.”
Adrian looked at her.
“Why?”
“The woman on the phone made a sound when she moved. Like beads clicking.”
“Jewelry?”
“Maybe.”
Park considered it.
“Send a message,” she said. “Tell her there has been a security breach and ask her to wait outside. Nothing else.”
Adrian typed.
Lydia replied within seconds.
Of course. I’m wearing the black coat. Emil can see me through the door.
Park called the officers at the restaurant. Lydia Crane was indeed standing beneath the awning in a black wool coat, holding a closed umbrella. She wore pearl earrings and no necklace or bracelet.
“No beads,” Park said.
Mara shook her head.
“It might not have been her.”
May you like
Adrian looked at the three missed calls.
Lydia had known about his confidential dinner schedule. She had access to the archive and fleet. She had closed North Quay. Those facts made her an obvious suspect, which also made them convenient.
