The Dark Tide. Andrew Gross

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СКАЧАТЬ want you to tell her, Sam, that the investigation is going to start very soon. And that it’s going to get very personal. She’ll understand. And that we’re not the types to wait around patiently—forever. I think you can see that, can’t you? Do you understand that, Sam?”

      She shut her eyes. Shaking. Nodded.

      “Good. Be sure and tell her that the clock’s ticking. And she doesn’t want it to run out, I can promise that. Do you hear me, Sam?” He loosened his hand just slightly from her mouth.

      “Yes,” Sam whispered, her voice quaking.

      “Now, don’t look around,” he said. “I’m going to slip out the back.” The man had a hooded sweatshirt pulled over his face. “Trust me, the less you see, the better for you.”

      Samantha sat rigid. Her head moved up and down. “I understand.”

      “Good.” The door opened. The man slipped out. She didn’t look. Or turn to follow. She just sat there staring. Exactly as she was told.

      “You are your father’s little girl, aren’t you, Sam?”

      Her eyes shot wide.

      “Remember about the sum. Two hundred and fifty million dollars. You tell your mom we won’t wait long.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

      Karen clung to her daughter on the living-room couch. Samantha was sobbing, her head buried against her mother’s shoulder, barely able to speak. She’d called Karen after the man had left, then driven home in a panic. Karen immediately called the police. Outside, the quiet street was ablaze in flashing lights.

      Karen went through it with the first officers who’d arrived. “How could there be no protection at the school? How could they just let anyone in there?” Then to Sam, in total frustration, “Baby, how could you not have locked the car?”

      “I don’t know, Mom.”

      But inside she knew—her daughter’s fingers tight and trembling, her face smeared with tears—that this wasn’t about Samantha. Or more protection at school. Or locking the car door.

      It was about Charlie.

      This was about something he had done. Something she was growing more and more afraid that he had withheld from her.

      They would have found Samantha at the mall, or at someone’s house, or at the club where she worked. But they weren’t trying to get to Samantha, she knew.

       They were trying to get to her.

      And the scariest part was, Karen had no idea what these people wanted from her.

      When she spotted Lieutenant Hauck come through the front door, her body almost gave out all at once. She leaped up and ran over to him. She had to hold herself back from hugging him.

      He placed a hand on her shoulder. “Is she all right?”

      “Yes.” Karen nodded in relief. “I think so.”

      “I know she’s already been through it a couple of times, but I need to talk with her, too.”

      Karen took him over to her daughter. “Okay.”

      Hauck sat down on the coffee table directly across from Samantha. “Sam, my name’s Lieutenant Hauck. I’m the head of detectives with the Greenwich police here in town. I know your mom a little from when your dad died. I want you to tell me exactly what took place.”

      Karen nodded to her, sitting next to her on the couch and taking her hand.

      Sniffling back tears, Sam went through it all again. Coming out of the gym after practice, stepping into her car, putting on her iPod. The man in the backseat, completely surprising her from behind. Cupping her mouth so she couldn’t scream, his voice so chilling and close to her ear that his words seemed to tingle down her spine.

      “It was so scary, Mom.”

      Karen squeezed. “I know, baby, I know….”

      She told Hauck that she’d never gotten a good look at him. “He told me not to.” She was certain she was about to be raped or killed.

      “You did right, honey,” Hauck said.

      “He said that the investigation was going to start soon. And that it was going to get very personal. He said something about two hundred and fifty million dollars.” Samantha looked up at Karen. “What the hell did he mean by that, Mom?”

      Karen fitfully shook her head. “I don’t know.”

      When they’d finished, Karen eased herself away from her daughter. She asked Hauck if he would come outside with her. The awning on the patio wasn’t up yet. Still too cold. In the darkness there were lights flashing out on the sound.

      “Do you have any idea what she’s talking about?” he asked.

      Karen drew a sharp breath and nodded. “Yes.”

       And no …

      She took him through the visit she’d received. The two men from Archer and Bey, who had pressured her about all that missing money. “Two hundred and fifty million dollars,” she admitted.

      Now this.

      “I don’t know what the hell is going on.” She shook her head, eyes glistening. “Charlie’s trustee—he’s a friend—he promises that everything in the partnership was one hundred percent by the book. And I’m sure it was. These people …” Karen looked at Hauck, flustered. “Charlie was a good man. He didn’t handle that kind of money. It’s like they’ve targeted the wrong person, Lieutenant. My husband had a handful of clients. Morgan Stanley, a few well-to-do families he’d known a long time.”

      “You understand I have to look into this,” Hauck said.

      Karen nodded.

      “But I need to tell you that without a physical description from your daughter, it’s going to be very tough. There are cameras at the school entrances. Maybe someone around spotted a car. But it was dark and pretty much deserted at that time. And whoever these people are, they’re clearly professional.”

      Karen nodded again. “I know.”

      She leaned toward him, suddenly so full of questions she felt light-headed, her knees on the verge of buckling.

      The lieutenant placed his hand on her shoulder. She didn’t pull away.

      She’d handled Charlie’s death, the long months of uncertainty and loneliness, the breakup of his business. But this was too much. Tears rushed in her eyes—burning. Tears of mounting fear and confusion. The fear that her children had suddenly become involved. The fear of what she did not know. More tears started to flow. She hated this feeling. This doubt that had so abruptly sprung up about her husband. She hated these people who had invaded their lives.

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