Tess and Mark played their parts well, tiptoeing around, stealing glances at the things they had agreed ahead of time they must absorb-notes on the kitchen counter, a flashing light on the phone. Using the sleight-of-hand trick Mark had shown Tess at their first meeting, he palmed a key lying in a shallow bowl on the kitchen counter. Perhaps it would open her box at the mail store. When Tess saw that the phone in the bedroom had a built-in answering machine and caller ID, she shot Rubin a look. She then walked out in the hall, dropped her knapsack, bent over to pick it up-and promptly let out a bloodcurdling scream.
"My back. Shit, I threw my back out again. I won't even be able to walk down the steps without someone's help."
The young cop was all sympathy, standing next to her and trying to help her straighten up, while the landlord looked away, indifferent. Tess continued to groan and whimper.
"Why don't I take one side and your friend can take the other, and we'll help you out," the cop suggested.
"Mark can't touch me-as an Orthodox Jew, he's not allowed to touch a woman who's not his wife. He was bending the rules just to be here with me today, unchaperoned. But you can help me, can't you, sir?" Tess appealed to the surly little Hassan, who didn't seem inclined to help anyone. "If you just get me down the steps, I can lie on the ground with my knees to my chest. Five minutes like that, and I should be good enough to get in the car and go home to bed."
"Does this happen a lot, ma'am?"
"Just since I turned thirty," Tess said, and the young cop looked even more sympathetic.
Slowly they righted her, but Tess stayed in her bent-over crouch, hobbling like a crone, a man at either elbow. She called back over her shoulder, "Mark, grab my knapsack, okay? But make sure nothing fell out. I'm afraid some things scattered when I dropped it."
She felt she deserved an Oscar, or at least a Golden Globe, for her oh-so-slow descent down the stairs. Once outside, she allowed the young cop and the sullen landlord to lower her to the grass, where she brought her knees to her chest and hugged tightly. It was a pretty day, and it was pleasant lying on the ground and looking at the sky. Tess had to remind herself to whimper every now and then. By the time Mark Rubin came out with her knapsack, she had almost persuaded herself that she had, in fact, thrown out her back. She eased into the backseat of the Cadillac, holding her knees to her chest, and stayed in that position until they were several blocks away.
"Anything?" she asked Mark.
"Nothing on the answering machine," he said. "But there were long-distance calls logged on the caller ID- Ohio, then West Virginia."
"Did you call the numbers?"
"First I hit the redial button, just to see what number she called last." Tess was impressed. She had not thought of that detail. "A woman with an accent answered, but I couldn't think of anything to ask her, so I hung up."
"An accent? It could have been Natalie's mother. Did you dial the numbers on the caller ID?"
"The Ohio and West Virginia numbers just rang and rang. Pay phones, I guess. We should have stayed with her. She probably would have taken us straight to them."
"Not straight. Based on the geography, the second phone call came only after Mary Eleanor had trailed them to Wheeling. Lana sent them money in Zanesville, but that wasn't good enough for some reason. They need something else from her, something that couldn't be wired."
"Maybe," Mark said, "they're going to send the children back with her. Maybe they think I'll give up if I have the children back."
"Would you?"
"Probably not." He sighed, as if disappointed in himself. "I'd have to see Natalie, just to ask why. And I can't cut her out of our children's lives, whatever she decides to do. She's their mother, after all."
"Do you think she would fight you for custody?"
"If it comes to that, absolutely."
"If it comes to that. You still think reconciliation is possible?"
"Until I know the cause of the problem, I have to assume it's a problem that can be solved."
Again Tess found herself wondering if the information about Natalie's past could change Mark's view of his wife. The problem is… your wife used to be a whore. But that didn't explain why she had run away, nor did it shed any light on the identity of the man with her. Natalie was a willing participant in this odyssey, but what was its point, its purpose? If she wanted to be with this other man, why not divorce Mark and take whatever money she could get? Even if his inheritance wasn't marital property, she'd still be better off than she was now.
"Another woman in my network suggested something," Tess said, by way of changing the subject. "A needle-in-the-haystack solution, but it might yield some info. The only thing is, it involves going through government agencies, and you know how slow they are."
Mark actually seemed intrigued. "Ah, but I also know how to grease them so they go a little faster. I've given generously to politicians at every level of government. It's time to call in my favors."
"I never give to politicians," Tess said. "Not that I have any money to give. It's like being shaken down by the Mafia-give me money and I'll take care of you."
"Exactly," Mark said. "Exactly."
MONDAY
Chapter Thirty-four
It took Mark Rubin less than seventy-two hours to get the results that Jessie Ray said could take several months-and he might have gotten them even faster if the weekend hadn't imposed a rain delay of sorts. By Monday afternoon he and Tess were being welcomed into the office of an undersecretary at the Department of Health and Human Services in Washington, D.C.
I really should work with people who have money more often, Tess thought, looking around the bland office that they hoped would provide their next lead.
"As you know, this program is used primarily to track down deadbeat dads," explained a pouty-lipped blonde in glasses. Without the black horn-rims and the business suit, she would have had no problem passing for a sixteen-year-old cheerleader. Even in conservative attire, she looked more like the sort of bespectacled woman found in a porn film. Tess kept thinking she was going to whip off her glasses, among other things. "But we've been keen to see if it could be applied to welfare fraud as well. Mr. Rubin's case gives us an opportunity to see how clients might abuse the system."
Tess did not literally bite her tongue, but she pressed her lips together until the lower one all but disappeared beneath her front teeth. This was neither the place nor the time to tell the young woman exactly what she thought of the changes in social services and her administration's priorities. By all means, track down those people taking the federal government for a few hundred dollars, while letting rapacious CEOs run free.
"But it's the same old story," the woman continued. "Garbage in, garbage out. That's why I was so pleased"-she cast an almost coquettish glance at Rubin-"to work with someone such as Mr. Rubin, who understood the kind of information we needed. It was the combination of birth dates and aliases that kicked out a pattern. The birth dates alone might have done it, but the names cinched it."
"Names?" Tess asked.
Mark smiled ruefully. "I know my wife well-despite what you've suggested over the past two weeks. She has a singular obsession with the movie star Natalie Wood. Remember Wilma Loomis?"