The Dark Tide. Andrew Gross
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said, squeezing Karen’s shoulder. “I’ll station someone outside the house. We’ll see that someone follows the kids to school for a while.”
She looked at him, sucking in a tense breath. “I have this feeling that my husband might have done something, Lieutenant. In his business. Charlie always took risks, and now one of them has come back to haunt us. But he’s dead. He can’t untangle this for us.” She wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand. “He’s gone, and we’re still here.”
“I’ll need a list of his clients,” Hauck said, his hand still perched upon her shoulder.
“Okay.”
“And I’ll need to talk to Lennick, your husband’s trustee.”
“I understand.” Karen pulled back, taking in a breath, trying to compose herself. Her mascara had run. She dabbed her eyes.
“I’ll find something. I promise you. I’ll do my best to make sure you’re safe.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant.” She leaned against him. “For everything.”
Static from her sweater rippled against his hand as he took it away.
“Listen.” He smiled. “I’m not exactly a Wall Street guy. But somehow I don’t think this is how Morgan Stanley goes about collecting its debts.”
The call came in at eleven-thirty that night. The limo had just dropped Saul Lennick at his Park Avenue apartment, home from the opera. His wife, Mimi, was in the bathroom removing her makeup.
“Can you get that, Saul?”
Lennick had just pulled off his shoes and removed his tie. Calls this late, he knew what they were usually about. He picked up the phone in frustration. Couldn’t it wait for the morning? “Hello.”
“Saul?”
It was Karen Friedman. Her voice was cracking and upset. He knew that something was wrong. “What’s happened, Karen?”
Exasperated, she told him what had happened to Samantha leaving school.
Lennick stood up. Sam was like a grandniece to him. He had been at her bat mitzvah. He had set up accounts for her, and for Alex, at his firm. Every bone in his tired body became rigid.
“Jesus, Karen, is she all right?”
“She’s okay….” Karen sniffed back a sob in frustration. “But …” She told him what the man who had accosted her had said, about wanting their money. The same two hundred and fifty million dollars as before. The part about how she was her father’s little girl.
“What the hell did they mean by that, Saul? Was that some kind of threat?”
In his underwear and socks, Lennick sank down on the bed. His mind ran back to Charles. The avalanche he had unleashed.
You stupid son of a bitch. He shook his head and sighed.
“Something’s going on, Saul. You were about to tell me something a couple of weeks back. You said it wasn’t the right time…. Well I just put my daughter in my own bed,” Karen said, her voice stiffening. “She was scared within an inch of her life. What do you think, Saul—is it the right time now?”
Archer and Bey turned out to be phony.
Just a name on a business card. A call to an old contact at Interpol and a quick scan over the Internet for companies registered in South Africa determined that. Even the address and telephone number in Johannesburg were bogus.
Someone was trying to extort her, Hauck knew. Someone familiar with her husband’s dealings. Even his trustee, Lennick, whom Hauck had spoken with earlier and who appeared like a stand-up guy, agreed.
“Incoming, Lieutenant!”
The call rang out from the outside squad room, followed by the low, pretend whoosh of a mortar round exploding.
“Incoming” was how they referred to it when Hauck’s ex-wife was on the line.
Hauck paused a second, phone in hand, before picking up. “Hey, Beth, how’s it going?”
“I’m okay, Ty, fine. You?”
“How’s Rick?”
“He’s good. He just got an increase in territory. Now he’s got Pennsylvania and Maryland, too.” Beth’s new husband was a district manager in a mortgage firm.
“That’s real good. Congratulations. Jess mentioned something like that.”
“It’s sort of why I’m calling. We thought we’d take this long-overdue trip. You know how we’ve been promising Jessie we’d take her down to Orlando? The theme-park thing.”
Hauck straightened. “You know I was sort of hoping she and I could do that together, Beth.”
“Yeah, I know how you’ve always been saying that, Ty. But, um … this trip’s for real.”
The dig cut sharply into his ribs. But she was probably right. “So when are you planning on doing this, Beth?”
Another pause. “We were thinking about Thanksgiving, Ty.”
“Thanksgiving?” This time the cut dug all the way through his intestines. “I thought we agreed Thanksgiving’s mine this year, Beth. I was going to take Jess up to Boston to my sister’s. To see her cousins. She hasn’t been up there in a while.”
“I’m sure she’d like that, Ty. But this came up. And it’s Disney World.”
He sniffed, annoyed. “What, does Rick have a sales conference down there then or something?”
Beth didn’t answer. “It’s Disney World, Ty. You can take her Christmas.”
“No.” He tossed his pen on his desk. “I can’t take her Christmas, Beth. We discussed this. We had this planned. I’m going away Christmas.” He’d made these plans to go bonefishing with a group of school buddies off the Bahamas, the first time he’d been away in a long time. “We went over this, Beth.”
“Oh, yeah.” She sighed as if it had somehow slipped her mind. “You’re right. I remember now.”
“Why not ask Jess?”
“Ask Jess what, Ty?”
“Ask her where she’d like to go.”
“I don’t have to ask her, Ty. I’m her mother.”
He was about to snap back, Goddamn it, Beth, I’m her father, but he knew where that would lead.
“We actually sort of already booked the tickets, Ty. I’m sorry. I really didn’t call you to fight.”
He let out a long, frustrated exhale. “You know she likes it up there, Beth. With her cousins. They’re expecting us. It’s good for her now—for her to see them once or twice a year.”
“I know, Ty. You’re right. Next time, I promise, she will.” Another pause. “Listen, I’m glad you understand.”
They hung up. He swiveled around in his chair, his eyes settling on the picture of Jessie and Norah he kept on the credenza. Five and three. A year before the accident. All smiles.
It was hard to remember they had once been in love.
There was a knock against Hauck’s office door, startling him. “Hey, Loo!”
It was Steve Christofel,