"Well, the Latin name of the domestic pet ferret is Mustela furo, and it's not a wild animal. They've been domesticated for a long, long time. Two or three thousand years."
"Really?" Nat filed the last few invoices, thinking of a way to get into the boss's office for the file.
"They're often confused with their cousins, the North American black-footed ferret, or Mustela nigripes"
Nat checked her watch: 12:05. It gave her an idea, and she straightened up. "By the way, have you eaten lunch? I haven't."
"It is that time, isn't it?" Agnes looked up from her keyboard, her eyes bright. "Goody! Let's go to McDonald's. I'll bring Frankie in his Ferret Ferry. I wear it on my shoulder, and it looks exactly like a purse."
Bet it doesn't. "I have too much filing to go out on my first day. Either you could go out if you wanted a break, or I could go out and bring you something back."
"Oh, right." Agnes thought a minute. "I should stay here to do payroll, so it would be great if you ran out and got the food. Do you mind?"
"Not at all. I'm the gofer."
"Gophers are in the Geomyidae family. Ferrets are in the Mustelidae family. We're ferret fans, here." Agnes laughed, and Nat smiled.
"Now, what would you like from McDonald's?"
"Do you know where it is?"
No. "Yes."
"Good. A Big Mac with a Diet Coke. Thanks."
"Okay. It'll be my treat, since you're giving me a chance today."
"You're too nice." Agnes smiled, and Nat grabbed her coat guiltily.
"Hang in. I'll be right back."
"We'll see you soon."
"We?"
"Me and Frankie."
"Right." Nat looked down at the ferret. His legs were still open. Okay, him I won't miss.
She hurried from the office and made noisy footsteps to the door, then opened the door so the chimes would ring and let it slam loudly, as if she had left the building. Then she hurried back, as lightly on her feet as she could, holding her breath as she slipped past the open doorway to Agnes's office.
She took a quick left, stole down the hall, and darted into Jim Graf's office, her heart pounding. She scanned the room in a flash. Desk, computer, TV, building codes. File cabinets behind the desk. She ran for them, opened the cabinet quietly, and thumbed through the manila files. Albemarle Residence, Boston Pizza addition, Chester County Correctional Institution.
There! Nat slid the folder out, shoved it under her coat, then closed the drawer silently. She ran out of the boss's office, tiptoed past Agnes's doorway, and hurried out to the front door-where she stopped, stumped. If she ran out, the door chimes would go off. It wouldn't take Agnes long to figure out which file was missing, and if she linked the prison file to Nat, her bleached-blond cover could be blown. She opened the door and closed it again, letting the chimes go off, then walked back noisily to Agnes's office and poked her head in the doorway.
"I forgot your order," she said, faking a frown.
Agnes looked up from the keyboard. Frankie slept soundly in his net, and somebody on the radio was wearing blue velvet. "Big Mac and a Diet Coke."
"Got it. Sorry. See you," Nat said, and took off. She couldn't wait to get out of there and read the folder.
It was almost Too Good To Be True.
Half an hour later, Nat parked the Kia behind a Wawa, sipped a fresh, hot coffee, and inhaled half of a turkey hoagie with provolone while she opened the Chester County Correctional file. It was at least three inches thick, and the top invoice was from CCWM, for Chester County Waste Management.
Bingo! She went through the entire file and pulled out all the CCWM invoices. There were four, and she set them side by side on her lap. An invoice was sent in June, September, November, and February. This month. Four Dumpsters hauled off, at a cost of $1,749.00. The February Dumpster had been taken away the day after the riot. She considered the pattern. Four months for the first Dumpster. Four for the second. One for the last. It stunk worse than ferrets. She reached for the borrowed cell phone and pressed the number for CCWM, but the machine said they were closed on the weekend.
Nat sighed, then noticed an icon on the phone. She'd gotten a message from Angus's number. She used the password Bill had given her, got to voicemail, then recognized the caller's voice, with a tiny fluttering.
"Natalie, it's Angus, and I got your message at my office." He sounded anxious, and urgent. "Call me as soon as you get this. The D.A.'s looking for you. They found the murder weapon in a field."
Nat felt sick to the pit of her stomach.
"They want you to turn yourself in."
Nat gathered the papers, threw the rest of the hoagie aside, and started the engine.
Chapter 33
Nat tore out of the parking lot, turned onto the main road, and headed for Route 202, speeding south to the state line. Pennsylvania police didn't have jurisdiction in Delaware, and she'd be damned if she'd turn herself in. She wouldn't get bail, not for the first-degree murder of a cop. It was a charge that carried the death penalty. She made the decision in a blink, for once not overanalyzing something. She'd always believed in, and even loved, the law. But if she submitted to the law, she'd never get justice. And neither would Trooper Shorney or Barb Saunders. The cops weren't going to hunt for the man in the ski mask. No one else was trying to find out what had really happened.
She flicked on the radio, already tuned to the all-news station, and didn't have to wait long until she heard her own name. The announcer said, "University of Pennsylvania professor Natalie Greco is being sought in connection with the homicide of Trooper Matthew Shorney of the Pennsylvania State Police and the attempted murder of Barbara Saunders of Chester County. Mrs. Saunders remains in intensive care, in a coma, following her injuries."
Nat shuddered, for Barb. Her stomach clenched like a fist and she hit the gas. She passed strip malls and gas stations, an Arby’s and a McDonald's, a Staples and an Office Depot, jockeying as well as she could in the traffic of Saturday errands in the suburbs. She picked up the cell phone and pressed buttons until she got to the number Angus had called from, then hit Send. "Angus?" she said, when the call connected.
"Natalie." It was all he had to say, and she felt her throat catch. "They're looking for you. They want to arrest you. Where are you?"
"On the way to Delaware." Nat passed another strip mall with another McDonalds.
"You must be terrified."
"Basically, yes." Nat ran a hand through her shorn hair. "I'm worried that the doorman is going to tell the cops that he lent me his car. If the police are charging me, then he's an accomplice after the fact, and sooner or later somebody will tell him so."
"Natalie, slow down. You borrowed a car?"
"Yes, and as soon as he tells them, they'll have an ID on the car and a warrant for the cell phone. They could be looking for the car right now, and if they are, my disguise isn't worth a damn. I could be pulled over and arrested any minute."
"Disguise? You're wearing a disguise?"
"A good one, too."
"Natalie, listen. Bennie says you should turn yourself in. The cops said you could turn yourself in to her. I respect her opinion."
"What do you think?" Nat listened hard for his answer, pressing the phone to her ear.
"I'm not an expert. I don't want to give you the wrong advice." Angus's voice softened. "Right now, Bennies opinion matters more than mine."
"Not to me."
"Honestly?" Angus sounded almost pained, and Nat bore down. Somewhere inside, her heart wanted to know what this man was going to say to her, right now.
"Honestly."
"For me, I think you'd be crazy to turn yourself in, to her or anyone else. I think they'll crucify you. I think you should let me meet you in Delaware. We can figure out the best thing to do, together."
Nat almost cried, with gratitude. "Are you well enough to drive?"