She stood and willed herself to keep her eyes level, not to glance at either the ceiling or the floor. Reminded herself that these guys were just regular cops, not detectives, not people who knew what had happened in the last week. “I really do feel stupid. You guys must have better things to do.”
“We were in the neighborhood.” Bradley cleared his throat. “Your security company will bill you for the false alarm, though.”
“Really?”
“Probably about two hundred.” The cop shrugged. “It’s steep, I know, but that’s how they do it.”
“That’s okay, Officer,” Anna said, remembering Jack sprinting out the back door. “I don’t mind at all.” She heard the toilet flush, the hiss of the sink, and then the other guy came down the hall, belt heavy with gear. As the two turned to go, the corner of the sergeant’s boot caught the edge of the shell casing and set it spinning. She moved fast, stepping forward to silence it with a foot, her smile never wavering.
When the door closed behind them, Tom said, “Where’s the money?”
“In the car.”
His mouth fell open. “You left three hundred grand in the car?”
“I was going to put it at Sara’s, but I thought…” She shrugged, feeling stupid. “I don’t know. I didn’t really think it through. I wasn’t trying to steal it, like I said. But once I took it out, putting it back didn’t make any sense. I was going to get a safe-deposit box, but with my job, everything.” She shrugged again.
Tom closed his eyes, rubbed his forehead hard. “Okay.” He held his left hand in his right. Winced.
“You should get that looked at.”
“We’ll hit a drugstore on our way.”
“On our way where?”
THE W HOTEL ON LAKE SHORE was hipster heaven. Anna dug the décor, the mod chairs and muted colors, trip-hop playing over the lobby sound system. It made her feel cooler than she was.
When the woman behind the desk asked her name, Anna told the truth. Then she said, “I can give you a credit card. But could you put the room in a different name? My ex-husband…” She trailed off with a meaningful look.
“Of course,” the woman said. “I understand. What name would you like?”
“Ummm… Anna Karenina?”
“You sure? Love didn’t go well for her either.”
“I suppose not.”
“How about Annie Oakley? He shows up, you can shoot him, then ride into the sunset.”
Anna laughed. “Thanks.”
The room was all sleek planes and Asian light fixtures. Broad windows gave onto the lake and Navy Pier, the Ferris wheel burning bright against indigo skies. It made her want to take off her clothes and order champagne.
Tom set the duffel bag on the ground, then collapsed into the overstuffed chair beside it. His face was drawn and his lips pressed tight. He rested his left elbow on the arm of the chair so that his hand was above his head. It was swollen and crusted with blood.
“How is it?”
“It hurts.” He said it simply. He wasn’t much of one to complain, would always drive her crazy with his refusal to go to a doctor no matter how sick he was. What’s the doctor going to do? he’d say. I’ll be better by the time I could get an appointment.
She moved to the edge of the bed. Nervous again, not sure how to talk to him, what to say. “Want me to tape it up?”
“Let me have a couple of drinks and some pills first.”
They’d bought a bottle of bourbon at the CVS, along with medical tape, gauze, antiseptic cream, antibacterial soap, Advil, and a splint. She shook out a couple of capsules and passed them to him, then dug the booze out of the bag. She knew you weren’t supposed to mix ibuprofen and alcohol, but against the scale of their current concerns, that rule seemed laughable. She poured three inches into each glass. He took his wordlessly, eyes out the window.
“I’m sorry, Tom.”
He nodded, still not looking at her.
“It was stupid. I should have trusted you. I do trust you. It was just… It was stupid.”
He sipped his drink. Shrugged. Said, “Doesn’t matter now.”
“It matters to me.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. Then you want to know the worst moment?” He turned, hit her with an expression hard to read. “It wasn’t when I saw the money was gone. It wasn’t when he stomped on my fingers. It was after all that. I still didn’t believe you’d taken it. Jack told me you had, but I refused to believe it. Until I looked in your eyes and realized he knew you better than I did.”
“That’s not true.”
He raised his eyebrows. Took another swig.
“What about you?” She could feel herself on an emotional tightrope, self-loathing on one side, fury on the other. “How do you know who he is? What have you been doing that you haven’t told me?”
“Trying to save our lives.” His tone was level, uncombative, and it helped steady her on the rope. She said, “What does that mean?”
“Jack isn’t our only problem.” Tom drained the rest of his bourbon, leaned for the bottle. Anna beat him to it and poured into the glass he held. When she finished, he flashed a smile, nothing much, just a quick thank you, more habit and courtesy than anything, but still. “Someone else is after us as well.”
“Who?”
“Genghis Khan.”
“Huh?”
“Just listen,” he said. She opened her mouth, then shut it, leaned back against the headboard, and nodded. He told her about his meeting with the man in the suit, about the threats against them both. About his conversation with the detective, his careful dance of exaggeration and obfuscation. Told her about talking real estate with Jack Witkowski while a knife burned in his pocket. She listened quietly, assembling the larger pattern: thieves that preyed on the Star buying drugs. A betrayal and a murder. Everyone scattering, one man left holding all the goods – a man who hid in a quiet rental apartment, the bottom floor of a two-flat in Lincoln Square. A grand epic had been playing out around them. “The guy in the suit, did he say how long we had?”
“No. But not long. He’s probably looking for us now.”
“Do you think he’s dangerous?”
“Definitely.”
“Worse than Jack?”
Tom shook his head. “I don’t know. Does it matter?”
“I guess not.” She rubbed at her temple. “What do we do?”
“We go to the cops,” he said.
“We’d have to tell them everything.”
“So?”
“Tom, we’d have to give up the money. Not just the cash we have left, but the stuff we’ve already paid too. We’d have to hire a lawyer.” A thought struck her. “God, I don’t even have a job now! How would we pay for it? We’d lose the house.” She shook her head. “There has to be another way.”
“I’m open to suggestions.”
She hesitated. Even if everything went perfectly, if they somehow rode out the storm, if the police caught Jack and the drug dealer, if a lawyer kept them out of jail, they would lose their chance for a child. Time and debt would guarantee it. They wouldn’t even be able to adopt. She’d researched the process, knew how stringent it was. People could be disqualified if the adoption agent just got a bad vibe. She imagined the interview: Well, sure, we are nearly bankrupt. True, we stole money from our deceased tenant. Yes, we did have to sell our house to cover our legal defense against felony charges. But we’re good housekeepers. You can overlook the rest, right?
If they went to the police, they risked everything. If they didn’t, they risked their lives. “I can’t believe this. It’s crazy.”
“I know.”
“I mean, it was just a coincidence. A nothing little thing. Our tenant deciding to make a cup of coffee. That’s all. If he hadn’t, there wouldn’t have been a fire. We wouldn’t have found the money. All of this would have been different.”