I Will Find You(59)

“So who’s the boss now?”

“His son NJ runs the show.”

“Do you think NJ will talk to me?”

“I can only ask. But if it’s what you think, it’s not like they’re going to confess.”

“I’m not interested in getting anyone in trouble.”

“Yeah, but it’s not just that. If they really wanted to set you up for killing your own kid—and I won’t go into the million reasons why that makes no sense—why wouldn’t they just call the cops on you now?”

“The Fishers calling the cops?”

“It wouldn’t be a good look, I admit. Of course, they might just kill you. That’s more their style than this Count of Monte Cristo tale you’re coming up with.”

“I don’t really have a choice, Eddie. This is my only lead.”

Eddie nods. “Okay. Let me make a call.”





Chapter

24



Rachel didn’t know whether she was being followed or not. Probably.

Didn’t matter. She had a plan.

She walked to the train station and took the Main/Bergen line. The train wasn’t crowded at this hour. She checked her surroundings, changed train cars twice. No one seemed to be following or watching her, but they could be good at their job.

She exited the train at Secaucus Junction and headed for the train into Penn Station in New York City. Pretty much everyone else on the train did the same. Again, she tried to keep an eye out, but no one seemed to be watching her.

Didn’t matter. She had a plan.

She walked the streets of Manhattan for the next forty-five minutes, winding her way through various midtown locations until she reached a high-rise on Park Avenue and Forty-Sixth Street where Hester Crimstein, her attorney, had told her to go. A young man was waiting for her. The young man didn’t ask Rachel her name. He just smiled and said, “Right this way.” The elevator door was already open. They went up to the fourth floor in silence. When the doors opened, the young man said, “It’s down the hall on the left.” He waited for her to exit and then led the way. She opened the door and went in. Another man stood by a sink.

“Have a seat,” the other man said.

She sat with her back to the sink. The man worked fast. He cut her hair short and dyed it a subtle red. No words were exchanged during the whole process. When he was done, the first man, the younger man, came back. He led Rachel back to the elevator. He pressed the button for G3, which, she assumed, was the third floor of the garage. In the elevator he handed her a car key and an envelope. The envelope had cash, a driver’s ID in the name of Rachel Anderson (her maiden name), two credit cards, a phone. The phone was some kind of clone. She could get normal calls or texts, but the FBI wouldn’t be able to track where she was. At least, that was how the young man explained it to her.

When they reached G3, the elevator doors slid open. “Parking spot forty-seven,” the young man said. “Drive safely.”

The car was a Honda Accord. It wasn’t stolen or a rental, and Hester had assured her that there was no way it could be traced to either of them. She checked the phone as she slid behind the wheel. David had just sent the pin drop.

Whoa.

She was surprised to see he was in Revere, not far from his old home. She wondered about that. Going home had not been part of the plan. In fact, David had been careful to stress the dangers in going anywhere familiar.

That meant something Hilde Winslow had told him brought him back to Revere.

Rachel didn’t get why, but she didn’t have to yet. She started up the car and drove north.

*



When Eddie gets off the phone, he tells me it’s going to be a few hours before the meet.

“You want to stay in my back room until then?” Eddie asks.

I shake my head and give him the number of my burner phone. “Can you call me when you know a time?”

“Sure.”

I thank him and start across the street. I know this neighborhood like the proverbial back of my hand. Things may change, but in places like this, not much. By the water, sure. There are new high-rises overlooking Revere Beach. But here, where I grew up, the row houses may have fresh paint jobs or aluminum siding or the occasional addition, but it’s all pretty much the same. A big part of my childhood was about cutting through every yard to save a step or avoid being seen or maybe it was just about adventure.

I am so close now to my father.

I realize the danger here. There is, I’m sure, a fairly massive manhunt for me. That may mean that they are watching my childhood home, where my father and aunt still reside. It makes sense. But as I noted before, the cops can’t be everywhere. They know that last night I was in New York City. Do they think I would come up to Revere from there? It would depend, I guess, on what Hilde Winslow has told them, but I would highly doubt she would confess to committing perjury during my trial.

I check all the angles as I duck into the backyards of my youth. I realize that surveillance doesn’t require a van parked in front of the house, but I see nothing indicating danger. I wonder whether it’s safe. I wonder whether this even makes sense. Taking a step back for a moment: What’s the point in seeing Dad and Aunt Sophie after all this time? Won’t my visit just upset them?

But I’m drawn to my old home. I am an escaped convict with a few hours to kill, and I want to see the people I love the most. Is that so strange? No. But my motive and focus remain locked on finding Matthew.