“Take my arm, please. Now.”
“Of course, Pixie.”
They both kept the smiles on their faces as they made their way out of the grand ballroom. One wall of the ballroom was mirrored. Gertrude spotted herself right before they exited and wondered who that old woman in the mirror was.
“What is it, Pixie?”
She handed Hayden the phone. His eyes widened as he read it. “Escaped?”
“So it seems.”
Gertrude looked toward the door opening. Stephano, the family’s longtime security head, was always in sight. He met her eye, and she gave him a head tilt that indicated they would need to talk later. Stephano nodded back and kept his distance.
“Maybe it’s a sign,” Hayden said.
She turned her attention back to her grandson. “A sign?”
“I don’t mean strictly in a religious way, though maybe that too. More like an opportunity.”
He could be so foolish. “It’s not an opportunity, Hayden,” she said through clenched teeth. “They’ll probably catch him within a day.”
“Should we help him?”
Gertrude just stared at her grandson until he turned away. Then she said, “I think we should leave now.”
He gestured back toward the ballroom. “But Pixie, the patrons—”
“—only want to see the Vermeer,” she said. “They don’t care whether we are here or not. Where is Theo?”
“He wanted to see the painting.”
She passed the two security guards and entered what had once been the family music room, where the Vermeer now hung. A young boy stood in front of it, his back turned toward her.
“Theo,” she said to the boy, “are you ready to go?”
“Yes, Pixie,” Theo said. “I’m ready.”
When the eight-year-old turned toward her, Gertrude’s gaze couldn’t help but land on the telltale port stain on the boy’s cheek. She swallowed hard and stuck her hand out for him to take.
“Come along then.”
Part 2
Twelve Hours Later
Chapter
16
Max and Sarah took their seats at the interrogation table. Rachel Anderson sat alone across from them. They introduced themselves and asked her yet again whether she wanted counsel present. Rachel waived the right.
“Let me begin,” Max said, “by thanking you for talking to us.”
“Of course,” Rachel said, all wide-eyed and innocent. “But can you tell me what this is about?”
Max glanced at Sarah. Sarah rolled her eyes.
They were in the FBI building in Newark, New Jersey, some five hundred miles from Briggs Penitentiary. Their BOLO—Be On the Look Out—had finally been answered by the Port Authority police when Rachel Anderson’s New Jersey license plate had been picked up on camera crossing the George Washington Bridge traveling west from New York to New Jersey. After calling for backup—the BOLO had stated that escaped convict David Burroughs was armed and dangerous—New Jersey state troopers pulled over Rachel Anderson’s white Toyota Camry on Route 4 in Teaneck, New Jersey.
David Burroughs was not in the vehicle.
Max decided to go the direct route. “Where is your former brother-in-law, Ms. Anderson?”
Rachel’s mouth dropped open. “David?”
“Yes. David Burroughs.”
“David’s in prison,” Rachel said. “He’s serving time at Briggs Penitentiary up in Maine.”
Max and Sarah just stared at her.
Sarah sighed. “Really, Rachel?”
“What?”
“That’s the route you’re going to take with this?”
Max put his hand on Sarah’s arm. “I realize that you’ve waived your right to counsel,” he said to Rachel, “but let me offer you some reassurances.”
“Reassurances?” Rachel repeated.
Max silenced Sarah’s next rejoinder with a gentle squeeze. “We will give you full immunity right now provided you tell us the truth.”
Rachel looked at Sarah, then back to Max. “I don’t understand what you mean.”
Sarah shook her head. “My God.”
“Then let me clarify what I mean by ‘full immunity.’ Suppose—shot in the dark here—you helped David Burroughs escape from prison. If you tell us where he is or what role you played in this very serious federal crime—”
“—a crime that can put you behind bars for many, many years,” Sarah added.
“Right,” Max said, “Thank you. You won’t be charged. You’ll just walk.”
“Wait,” Rachel said, putting her hand to her chest. “David escaped?”
Sarah sat back and plucked at her own lower lip. She studied Rachel and then gestured toward her. “What do you think, Max?”
“Really fine performance, Sarah. You?”
“I don’t know, Max. Don’t you think maybe she’s overselling her shock here?”
“Yeah, a little, I guess,” Max conceded. “Her ‘wait’ before the ‘David escaped’ might have been gilding the lily.”
“And the hand-to-her-chest move. It was too much. If she had pearls, she probably would have clutched them.”
“Still,” Max said. “I would say there has to be Oscar buzz for this performance.”
“A nomination maybe,” Sarah said. “But not a win.”
They both offered up sarcastic golf claps in Rachel’s direction. Rachel stayed quiet.
“When David Burroughs escaped,” Max continued, “we sent a man over to your motel.”
“Person, Max,” Sarah said.
“What?”
“You said you sent a ‘man’ over. That’s a bit sexist, don’t you think?”
“I do. I apologize. Where was I?”
“Sent a law enforcement officer to her motel.”
“Right.” Max turned to Rachel. “You weren’t there, of course. The front desk informed us that you were most likely at the Nesbitt Station Diner. I guess you’d complained about the motel’s Wi-Fi.”
“So?” Rachel countered. “Is it a crime to go to a diner?”
“The waitress told us that not long after the escape alarm sounded, you hurried out of the diner.”
“And right before you hurried out,” Sarah said, “you received a phone call.”
Rachel shrugged. “I may have. So?”
“Do you remember who that call was from?” Max asked.
“I don’t, no. I might not have picked up. I don’t a lot of the time.”
“The waitress saw you answer it.”
“It was probably spam then. I get a lot of those.”
“This wasn’t spam,” Sarah said. “It was from David Burroughs.”
Rachel frowned. “David is a federal prisoner. How would he have a phone?”
“Wow,” Sarah said, throwing up her hands in mock surrender.
“He stole it during his escape,” Max said. Of course, Max didn’t really believe that the phone Burroughs used had been genuinely stolen. He figured that both Philip and Adam Mackenzie had given David their phones as part of the escape plot, but there was no reason to offer that up now. “The caller ID would have shown the name Adam Mackenzie. Do you know who that is?”