Nolan let out a short, mean laugh.
“You’re the victim here,” I reminded her. “Don’t become the criminal.”
“But I want two million dollars.”
“Shut up,” Nolan said.
“You shut up,” she shot back. “I’m not sure any of you people should be giving advice, okay? You aren’t exactly role models.”
“We’re trying to help you,” I said.
She waved me aside with the back of her hand. “I don’t need your help. Me and your friend Evan had a nice talk, and now I know what needs to happen. You guys are going to pay me two million dollars. Otherwise, I change my story. I walk into the police station and I tell them that you’ve done something horrible and dirty. That the three of you kidnapped me and locked me up and threatened to kill me. And you”—she nodded to Nolan—“I’ll tell them that you tried to kill me.”
He shook his head. “I didn’t.”
“Well, you could’ve fooled me. And now you’re going to pay. All of you. Any questions?”
I had two million of them but was shocked into silence. We all were.
“Evan,” I said, “help us out here.”
“You have some fucking nerve.” Evan’s face looked reddened and hard. “Let me remind you that you called me. Not some local attorney, not the police. You called me, your friend Evan. Well, first of all, I’m not your friend anymore, and after today I don’t ever want to hear from any of you again. Second, I’m a deal maker. That’s my job. I make deals. And you knew that when you tracked me down and demanded I fly across the whole goddamn country through a goddamn snowstorm to be here.” He looked around the studio and shook his head in disgust. “The truth is, I think you’re a coward, Will. I think you’re all cowards. And I think this young lady is being terribly foolish. You said it right—she’s the victim. So do I think she’s doing the right thing? Fuck, no. But she’s made you an offer. She’s willing to deal. So you should all consider yourself damn lucky, and either put up or shut up.”
We were all quiet for a while. It was Jeffrey who finally spoke. “To begin with,” he said calmly, politely, “we don’t have anywhere close to that kind of money.”
And suddenly we were considering it.
Marie shrugged again. “I don’t care. Come up with it.”
She was fearless. I had to give her that. “You don’t understand,” I said. “You’re asking something of us that we can’t give.” I had ironic visions of robbing banks. Of kidnapping some other girl for ransom in order to pay for this one.
She sighed. “I thought maybe you all didn’t want to spend your lives in prison. Your friend Evan thought so, too. But I guess we were wrong.” And with that, she walked quickly to the exit.
She was halfway out the door when Nolan said: “Wait.”
23
After nolan’s mother died, his father had sued her original doctor, the one who’d failed to diagnose her cancer. The suit settled out of court for $1.5 million. Nolan had never mentioned this to me before now. Or that when his father had died last year from a massive heart attack, all the money had gone to him. He’d invested half a million for his retirement. The other million he had just begun to spend on his senatorial campaign.
“See that?” Marie said. “We’re almost there already.”
And the rest of us? Cynthia and I had close to eight thousand in a savings account, plus another two thousand in a checking account.
Jeffrey’s investments, once worth a fortune, now totaled slightly under a hundred thousand dollars.
“And I’m sure you can all sell some stuff if you need to,” Marie said. “I’ll give you until Friday.”
“No,” Nolan said. “I don’t like this. How do we know you won’t take the money and then go to the police anyway?”
“You don’t,” she said. “That’s a chance you’ll have to take.”
“No, it isn’t. Get the fuck out of here,” Nolan said. “Go on. Turn us in.”
Did he mean it? Was he ready to lose everything now, when all that stood in our way was money?
Marie didn’t leave. She stood there a minute watching Nolan, and then she clenched and unclenched her fists, and her face seemed to relax a little. I thought she might be about to lower her demand to something halfway reasonable.
She said, “Sixteen fifteen.” We waited for her to explain. “My nana’s assisted living facility. Timber Cove. That’s her room number.”
“I don’t know what you’re telling us,” Nolan said.
“Her name is Emily Cole,” she went on, as if that clarified everything.
“Again,” Nolan said, “I don’t know—”
“Yes, you do. You know exactly. If I ever blab, you have my permission to visit her. In room one six one five.” She said the numbers slowly, so we’d remember. And in case there was any doubt what we were talking about, she added, “She’s on oxygen.”