“Okay, but you can’t this weekend. He’s going up to River Bend Resort. It’s a thing for class officers, and he got elected vice president next year. If he’s still in school next year, that is.” Tina puts the palm of her hand to her forehead in a gesture of distress so adult that it fills Hodges with pity. “If he isn’t in jail next year. For robbery.”
Holly looks as distressed as Hodges feels, but she’s not a toucher and Barbara is too horrified by this idea to be motherly. It’s up to him. He reaches over and takes Tina’s small hands in his big ones.
“I don’t think that’s going to happen. But I do think Pete might need some help. When does he come back to the city?”
“S-Sunday night.”
“Suppose I were to meet him after school on Monday. Would that work?”
“I guess so.” Tina looks utterly drained. “He mostly rides the bus, but you could probably catch him when he leaves.”
“Are you going to be all right this weekend, Tina?”
“I’ll make sure she is,” Barbara says, and plants a smack on her friend’s cheek. Tina responds with a wan smile.
“What’s next for you two?” Hodges asks. “It’s probably too late for the movie.”
“We’ll go to my house,” Barbara decides. “Tell my mom we decided to skip it. That’s not exactly lying, is it?”
“No,” Hodges agrees. “Do you have enough for another taxi?”
“I can drive you if you don’t,” Holly offers.
“We’ll take the bus,” Barbara says. “We both have passes. We only took a taxi here because we were in a hurry. Weren’t we, Tina?”
“Yes.” She looks at Hodges, then back to Holly. “I’m so worried about him, but you can’t tell our folks, at least not yet. Do you promise?”
Hodges promises for both of them. He can’t see the harm in it, if the boy is going to be out of the city over the weekend with a bunch of his classmates. He asks Holly if she’ll go down with the girls and make sure they get on to the West Side bus okay.
She agrees. And makes them take the leftover energy bars. There are at least a dozen.
21
When Holly comes back, she’s got her iPad. “Mission accomplished. They’re off to Teaberry Lane on the Number Four.”
“How did the Saubers girl seem?”
“Much better. She and Barbara were practicing some dance step they learned on TV while we waited for the bus. They tried to get me to do it with them.”
“And did you?”
“No. Homegirl don’t dance.”
She doesn’t smile when she says this, but she still might be joking. He knows she sometimes does these days, but it’s always hard to tell. Much of Holly Gibney is still a mystery to Hodges, and he guesses that will always be the case.
“Will Barb’s mom get the story out of them, do you think? She’s pretty perceptive, and a weekend can be a long time when you’re sitting on a big secret.”
“Maybe, but I don’t think so,” Holly says. “Tina was a lot more relaxed once she got it off her chest.”
Hodges smiles. “If she was dancing at the bus stop, I guess she was. So what do you think, Holly?”
“About which part?”
“Let’s start with the money.”
She taps at her iPad, brushing absently at her hair to keep it out of her eyes. “It started coming in February of 2010, and stopped in September of last year. That’s forty-four months. If the brother—”
“Pete.”
“If Pete sent his parents five hundred dollars a month over that period, that comes to twenty-two thousand dollars. Give or take. Not exactly a fortune, but—”
“But a mighty lot for a kid,” Hodges finishes. “Especially if he started sending it when he was Tina’s age.”
They look at each other. That she will sometimes meet his gaze like this is, in a way, the most extraordinary part of her change from the terrified woman she was when he first met her. After a silence of perhaps five seconds, they speak at the same time.
“So—” “How did—”
“You first,” Hodges says, laughing.
Without looking at him (it’s a thing she can only do in short bursts, even when she’s absorbed by some problem), Holly says, “That conversation he had with Tina about buried treasure—gold and jewels and doubloons. I think that’s important. I don’t think he stole that money. I think he found it.”
“Must have. Very few thirteen-year-olds pull bank jobs, no matter how desperate they are. But where does a kid stumble across that kind of loot?”
“I don’t know. I can craft a computer search with a timeline and get a dump of cash robberies, I suppose. We can be pretty sure it happened before 2010, if he found the money in February of that year. Twenty-two thousand dollars is a large enough haul to have been reported in the papers, but what’s the search protocol? What are the parameters? How far back should I go? Five years? Ten? I bet an info dump going back to just oh-five would be pretty big, because I’d need to search the whole tristate area. Don’t you think so?”
“You’d only get a partial catch even if you searched the whole Midwest.” Hodges is thinking of Oliver Madden, who probably conned hundreds of people and dozens of organizations during the course of his career. He was an expert when it came to creating false bank accounts, but Hodges is betting that Ollie didn’t put much trust in banks when it came to his own money. No, he would have wanted a cushy cash reserve.
“Why only partial?”
“You’re thinking about banks, check-cashing joints, fast credit outfits. Maybe the dog track or the concession take from a Groundhogs game. But it might not have been public money. The thief or thieves could have knocked over a high-stakes poker game or ripped off a meth dealer over on Edgemont Avenue in Hillbilly Heaven. For all we know, the cash could have come from a home invasion in Atlanta or San Diego or anyplace in between. Cash from that kind of theft might not even have been reported.”
“Especially if it was never reported to Internal Revenue in the first place,” Holly says. “Right right right. So where does that leave us?”
“Needing to talk to Peter Saubers, and frankly, I can’t wait. I thought I’d seen it all, but I’ve never seen anything like this.”
“You could talk to him tonight. He’s not going on his class trip until tomorrow. I took Tina’s phone number. I could call her and get her brother’s.”
“No, let’s let him have his weekend. Hell, he’s probably left already. Maybe it will calm him down, give him time to think. And let Tina have hers. Monday afternoon will be soon enough.”
“What about the black notebook she saw? The Moleskine? Any ideas about that?”
“Probably has nothing at all to do with the money. Could be his 50 Shades of Fun fantasy journal about the girl who sits behind him in homeroom.”
Holly makes a hmph sound to show what she thinks of that and begins to pace. “You know what bugs me? The lag.”
“The lag?”
“The money stopped coming last September, along with a note that said he’s sorry there isn’t more. But as far as we know, Peter didn’t start getting weird until April or May of this year. For seven months he’s fine, then he grows a moustache and starts exhibiting symptoms of anxiety. What happened? Any ideas on that?”