"The field agent actually said to me, 'Look, we've had five of these in the past two weeks'-not just in Indiana but in southern Illinois and Ohio, too. It's a new craze, like one of those silly dances that comes along every so often."
"A new craze of bank robberies," Tess repeated. "In southern Illinois and Ohio."
"And Indiana. So I said-"
Through being polite, Tess hung up the phone and asked Mark to read her the number for the Valparaiso bank.
"But you already talked to them."
"I know, but there's something I forgot to ask."
The Valparaiso bank had been robbed the day Natalie cashed her check. So had the Paoli bank. Only the Mount Carmel bank had been spared for some reason.
"That's how they're making it," Tess said. "Natalie gets a social-services check, takes it to the bank. Within an hour or two, it's robbed."
"Natalie's not a robber," Mark said.
"No one's saying she is. But it's three for four, which is a hell of a coincidence. She's casing the places, don't you see? The check gives her cash, but it also gives her a plausible reason to go into the bank and study the layout. That's how they're making it. They're robbing banks with lax security. Bonnie and Clyde, with three kids in tow."
"It's a ridiculous theory."
"Probably," she said, trying to placate him even as her excitement grew. "But I bet it's strong enough to go to federal authorities and persuade them to issue a warrant for Natalie. That means the next time she's spotted, local police can take her in and hold her long enough for you to get there and get your kids back."
"No."
"No?" She had thought her idea sheer genius.
"It's dangerous. The police could give chase, and the children would be in the middle."
"Your children are traveling with a bank robber, who's been risking encounters with the police up to twice a week. They'll be safer if authorities intervene."
"I don't want Natalie to face criminal charges."
"I'm sure she won't, if she agrees to cooperate. But she's clearly not going to turn herself in."
"She's doing this under duress. This man has scared her, forced her to do these things."
"Mark, you yourself pointed out that she didn't get away from him when she had the chance-"
"No." He was yelling now. "No police. And if you go to them, you're violating my confidentiality as a client. Remember the papers you had me sign, the ones drawn up by your lawyer? Those require you to honor my wishes."
"Not when I have evidence of a string of felonies."
"But you don't. This is just some wild idea you cooked up, nothing more."
"It's not as wild as what you're thinking."
He gave her a look that he must have perfected over his years in business, a level, direct gaze that was hard to meet for more than a few seconds.
"Really?" he demanded. "Tell me what I'm thinking, Miss Mind Reader."
"You believe you can turn this to your advantage, that Natalie will have to come back to you if this man is locked up. That you can get her a great lawyer, cut her a deal, and have leverage over her. But if she doesn't want to be with you, then she's never going to stay, Mark. What are you going to do, put her on an even tighter leash when you get her home?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"The money, the house, the life you created for her-it was all about control. In your heart of hearts, you were always preparing for the day she might leave you. You tried to make sure she wouldn't have the wherewithal, financially or emotionally. But the fact is, she's chosen another life, with another man. Yes, he's probably a crook, and it's a crappy life, and it makes no sense, but it's what she wants, Mark. You've got to forget about Natalie and focus on your children."
Mark did not speak for several long moments. When he did, his voice was frightening in its controlled anger, its absolute disdain for Tess and her opinions. "I did not hire you for personal advice. I hired you to find my family. Given the information you've developed today, you might want to go back to the records at Jessup, see if Boris had any contact with someone serving time for armed robbery. That strikes me as the most useful thing you can do."
"Mark-"
"There will be no more talk of warrants or police," he said, holding up a hand. "You work for me. Do as I've told you or you're fired."
Chapter Thirty-five
TWO THINGS KEPT TESS FROM WALKING OUT ON MARK Rubin in a fit of pique-the thought of Isaac waving to Mary Eleanor on the highway, and the thought of her bank account waving a frantic SOS in her direction. She had not yet earned out Mark Rubin's generous retainer, but she had spent a large chunk of it. If she wanted to quit on principle, she would have to refund money she didn't have, a principle she abhorred even more.
So she sucked it up and chose the best antidote she could think of to Mark Rubin's cold, high-handed treatment. She invited her WASP-iest friend, Whitney, over for dinner. Whitney was always good company, and she would take Tess's side in this quarrel with her client, which made her even better company. Within an hour of Tess's call, Whitney arrived with Indian takeout from the Ambassador and a bottle of zinfandel.
"The guy at the Wine Source said it was peppery and aggressive, with berry overtones and a strong finish," she said. "Just like me."
"You don't look very fruity," Tess said of her sharp-chinned friend, whose coloring was more easily found in the dairy case-butter-yellow hair, milk-white skin with a bluish undercast.
"Oh, I'm sour as a pickle these days. Everything annoys me. I took my mother to a Barbara Cook concert down at the Kennedy Center, and there was a sign-language interpreter. At a vocal concert. Does this mean they're going to start providing audio commentary for the ballet? And I can't speak to the sign language, but the closed-captioning was for shit. Cook was doing Sondheim, and a line from 'Losing My Mind' was transcribed as 'I want to sew.' "
"If I said that," Tess said, "you would know I was losing my mind."
Whitney laughed, expelling a little zinfandel through her nose. "It seemed to annoy Cook, too. Here she is, singing brilliantly, and there's someone blocking her from part of the audience's view, hamming it up."
"How does an interpreter ham it up?"
"Oh, c'mon." Whitney stood, giving Esskay the opportunity she needed to snatch a half-eaten samosa from her plate and bolt. "Damn dogs-they've gotten really nutty since Crow went to Virginia." Like kids in a divorce, Tess thought ruefully, but said nothing. She hadn't told Whitney about the breakup either, if only because she didn't want to be castigated for letting go of the perfect postmodern boyfriend. Whitney had always mocked the age difference between Tess and Crow, but she was perverse enough to exalt him now that Tess had lost him. "Anyway, she was trying to upstage Cook, I kid you not. Although I guess it would be downstaging in this case."
Whitney demonstrated, making grandiloquent gestures, opening her arms wide, painting rainbows in an imaginary sky, and finishing up by twirling an index finger next to her ear.
"I don't know sign language either, but I'm dubious about the last one you threw in there."
"I don't mean to sound callous. I'm all for an inclusive society. But a lot of this is just frosting the cannoli." This was Whitney's odd variation on gilding the lily, and Tess still didn't know what it meant after fifteen years of friendship. "I went to a bar mitzvah last week-"
"You went to a bar mitzvah?"