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thought.
    But that was hard. Gabriela was cynical in the grain. She’d learned to be that way, because of the Professor.
    She saw in her mind’s eye his still face, waxy, surrounded by satin. A material she had come to despise.
    ‘They’ll be here soon.’ He squinted, looking her way. ‘What’re you thinking? Something important. I can tell.’
    In a soft voice. ‘No.’
    ‘No you’re not thinking, or no you’re not telling? It’s got to be door number two because you can’t not be thinking something. That’s impossible.’
    She tried to formulate the words so they didn’t come out foolish. This wasn’t easy. ‘Too many people turn away when something bad’s happening. They’re afraid, they’re worried about the inconvenience, worried about being embarrassed. But you’re not willing to let Joseph get away with this and you’re doing it for me, for somebody you’ve known for only a couple of days.’
    Daniel Reardon wasn’t able to blush, she assessed. But he was embarrassed by her words. ‘You’re giving me a complex.’ He looked around and noted the bar. ‘I need a drink. You? Wine? Anything stronger?’
    ‘No. Just … not now.’
    He opened a bottle of cabernet and poured the ruby liquid into a glass. A long sip seemed to exorcise her cloying gratitude. He had another. ‘Now. We should think about our next steps. Andrew and Sam should be here soon. First, I guess we ought to call the complication. Make sure he’s home.’
    Complication …
    She smiled at the word. Then scrolled through her phone until she found Frank Walsh’s name and called. ‘No answer.’ She sent a text. ‘But I’m sure the list is safe. There’s no reason it wouldn’t be.’
    Daniel’s face remained calm. Though of course he’d be thinking: Without that list your daughter’s dead. And the man who’d kill her, that prick Joseph, will be after you too before long.
    And he didn’t need to add that Joseph would be looking for him too.
    But then her phone buzzed and she glanced at the screen. A text had appeared. She smiled briefly. ‘It’s Frank. He’s not going out tonight. Everything’s fine.’
    ‘That’s one less worry we have. But I don’t know how I feel about Mr Frank “Complication” Walsh on your speed-dial list. I’m thinking I’d rather take his place.’
    ‘I could move you up to number two.’
    ‘Only two?’
    ‘Mom is first.’
    ‘That’s fair enough.’
    Daniel walked to a tall glass-fronted mahogany entertainment enclosure, circa 1975, she guessed, though it contained newer components. He turned the radio on to a local station. After five minutes of bad music and worse commercials it was time for the news. She strode to the device and abruptly shut it off.
    Daniel looked at her as she stared at the receiver. She told him, ‘I don’t want to hear about it. About what happened today – any of it! It has to be on the news. I’m all over the news!’ Her voice had grown ragged again.
    ‘It’s okay, it’s okay …’
    She started at the buzz of the intercom. It seemed as loud as an alarm. ‘Daniel?’ came the tinny voice through the speaker. ‘It’s Andrew.’
    Pressing the unlock button, Daniel nodded reassuringly to Gabriela, ‘The cavalry’s arrived.’

CHAPTER
31
     

2:15 p.m., Sunday
     

1 hour earlier
     

 
     
     

 
     
    Detective Brad Kepler watched his boss read the media release once, twice, again.
    Captain Paul Barkley looked up at the NYPD press officer, a wobbly young man with persistent acne, who sat before him in this hellhole of an operations room. Then, without saying a word, he looked down and read once more.
    Barkley’s stomach made a Harley-Davidson noise that everyone in the room pretended to ignore.
    Kepler knew that most Sundays, this time of day Barkley was tucking away his wife’s roast beef, along with – when she wasn’t looking – massive forkfuls of buttered mashed potatoes. The detective was aware of this routine because he’d been