The boy’s bravado collapsed. His eyes filled with tears. Before they could fall, he turned and walked out.
12
Now comes this voicemail, which Drew listens to with fury but also with fear, because the boy sounds so cold and composed on top and so desperate underneath.
‘I can’t come tomorrow like I said I would. I completely forgot the junior-senior retreat for class officers, and I got elected vice-president of the senior class next year. I know that sounds like an excuse, but it’s not. I guess it entirely slipped my mind, what with you threatening to send me to jail and all.’
Erase this right away, Drew thinks, his fingernails biting into his palms.
‘It’s at River Bend resort, up in Victor County. We leave on a bus at eight tomorrow morning – it’s a teacher in-service day, so there’s no school – and come back Sunday night. Twenty of us. I thought about begging off, but my parents are already worried about me. My sister, too. If I skip the retreat, they’ll know something’s wrong. I think my mom thinks I might have gotten some girl pregnant.’
The boy voices a brief, semi-hysterical laugh. Drew thinks there’s nothing more terrifying than boys of seventeen. You have absolutely no idea what they’ll do.
‘I’ll come on Monday afternoon instead,’ Saubers resumes. ‘If you wait that long, maybe we can work something out. A compromise. I’ve got an idea. And if you think I’m just shining you on about the retreat, call the resort and check the reservation. Northfield High School Student Government. Maybe I’ll see you on Monday. If not, not. Goodb—’
That’s where the message-time – extra-long, for clients who call after-hours, usually from the West Coast – finally runs out. Beep.
Drew sits down in his chair (ignoring its despairing squeal, as always), and stares at the answering machine for nearly a full minute. He feels no need to call the River Bend Resort … which is, amusingly enough, only six or seven miles upriver from the penitentiary where the original notebook thief is now serving a life sentence. Drew is sure Saubers was telling the truth about the retreat, because it’s so easy to check. About his reasons for not ditching it he’s far less sure. Maybe Saubers has decided to call Drew’s bluff about bringing the police into it. Except it’s not a bluff. He has no intention of letting Saubers have what Drew can’t have himself. One way or another, the little bastard is going to give those notebooks up.
I’ll wait until Monday afternoon, Drew thinks. I can afford to wait that long, but then this situation is going to be resolved, one way or the other. I’ve already given him too much rope.
He reflects that the Saubers boy and his old friend Morris Bellamy, although at opposite ends of the age-spectrum, are very much alike when it comes to the Rothstein notebooks. They lust for what’s inside them. It’s why the boy only wanted to sell him six, and probably the six he judged least interesting. Drew, on the other hand, cares little about John Rothstein. He read The Runner, but only because Morrie was bonkers on the subject. He never bothered with the other two, or the book of short stories.
That’s your Achilles’ heel, son, Drew thinks. That collector’s lust. While I, on the other hand, only care about money, and money simplifies everything. So go ahead. Enjoy your weekend of pretend politics. When you come back, we’ll play some hardball.
Drew leans over his paunch and erases the message.
13
Hodges gets a good whiff of himself on his way back into the city and decides to divert to his house long enough for a veggie burger and a quick shower. Also a change of clothes. Harper Road isn’t much out of his way, and he’ll be more comfortable in a pair of jeans. Jeans are one of the major perks of self-employment, as far as he’s concerned.
Pete Huntley calls as he’s heading out the door, to inform his old partner that Oliver Madden is in custody. Hodges congratulates Pete on the collar and has just settled behind the wheel of his Prius when his phone rings again. This time it’s Holly.
‘Where are you, Bill?’
Hodges looks at his watch and sees it’s somehow gotten all the way to three fifteen. How the time flies when you’re having fun, he thinks.
‘My house. Just leaving for the office.’
‘What are you doing there?’
‘Stopped for a shower. Didn’t want to offend your delicate olfactories. And I didn’t forget about Barbara. I’ll call as soon as I—’
‘You won’t have to. She’s here. With a little chum named Tina. They came in a taxi.’
‘A taxi?’ Ordinarily, kids don’t even think of taxis. Maybe whatever Barbara wants to discuss is a little more serious than he believed.
‘Yes. I put them in your office.’ Holly lowers her voice. ‘Barbara’s just worried, but the other one acts scared to death. I think she’s in some kind of jam. You should get here as soon as you can, Bill.’
‘Roger that.’