“Because this sounds more like you’re trying to rehabilitate his image.”
“Rehabilitate the image of a reality star,” Wilde said. “Hard to care.”
“Precisely. So let me move on to more important matters, because this is weird. Really weird. I got a copy of Peter Bennett’s birth certificate. He was born April 12 twenty-eight years ago. His parents are listed as Philip and Shirley Bennett.”
Wilde frowned. “But that’s his adoptive parents.”
“That’s just it. There’s no sign Peter was adopted. According to this, they gave birth at Lewistown Medical Center, which is maybe half an hour from Penn State. There is a doctor listed. Curtis Schenker. He’s still alive. I contacted him myself.”
“What did he say?”
“What do you think he said?”
“Patient confidentiality?”
“Pretty much. A HIPAA violation, plus he’s delivered like a hundred million babies and couldn’t remember them all. But here is something: Two years after Peter Bennett’s birthday, Dr. Schenker surrendered his medical license for five years because of health-care fraud.”
“Meaning he’s sketchy.”
“Yes.”
“Sketchy enough to take a bribe to sign a birth certificate?”
“Could be. But let’s review this. The Bennett family is living in the Memphis area—Mom, Dad, two girls. They move near State College, Pennsylvania, and suddenly they have a baby boy named Peter.”
That was when Wilde saw it.
“Listen to me closely,” Wilde said.
“What?”
“Keep walking like nothing is different.”
“Oh, shit, what? Is someone tailing us?”
“Just keep walking. And talk to me. Change nothing.”
“Got it. So what’s the deal?”
“I’ve spotted three of them. There are probably more.”
“Where are they?”
“Not important. Do not look for them, even surreptitiously. I don’t want them to know we’re on to them.”
“Got it,” Rola said again. “Are they cops?”
“Not sure. Law enforcement for certain. Pretty good at this too.”
“So probably not the Hartford police guys again.”
“Probably not. Could be doing them a favor though.”
“You have a plan?”
Wilde did. They continued to cross the park. On the left, a ton of tourists milled around the red brickwork of Bethesda Terrace on the edge of a lake that, in a pique of originality, was dubbed The Lake. There were plenty of selfies and selfie sticks and all manner of phone-cum-social-media photography. Wilde and Rola moved through the crowd, faux chatting all the way. It would be hard for the people following them to keep up and hidden amongst the throngs of tourists. Wilde was careful not to look back. Now that he knew they were there, there was no use risking a glance.
He picked up his phone and hit Hester’s number. She answered on the third ring.
“Articulate.”
“I’m in Central Park and being followed,” Wilde said.
Wilde and Rola took the path to the left of the fountain and crossed Bow Bridge, heading into the thicker bush of the Ramble.
“You think they’re going to make an arrest?”
“Yes.”
“Pin me your location.”
“Rola is with me.”
“Have her pin me too. Let me do a little research. I’ll call you right back.”
He and Rola had entered via West 72nd Street, not far from the garage where Rola had parked. The police—or whoever this was—would have their greatest presence there because they would have figured that Wilde and Rola would talk while strolling through the park and then return to the garage. That assumption would have been correct if Wilde hadn’t spotted them. So now, as they headed up the twisty paths of the Ramble and farther away from that epicenter, it would be harder for the tails to keep up.
“Has to be about the McAndrews murder, no?” Rola said.
“Don’t know.”
“Could they have found something else linking you to the crime?”
“Doubtful.”
His phone buzzed. It was Hester.
“Don’t surrender,” Hester said.
“That bad?”
“Yes,” Hester said. “Can you get to my office?”
“I think so.”
“Do you have a plan?”
“Do you trust Tim?” Wilde asked.
“With my life.”
He told her what he hoped to do. Rola listened too and nodded along. They picked up their pace. They didn’t want to stay in the Ramble for too long. The police might circle them and grab them in there. The good news was the wooded area had a fair amount of people. They’d already passed two large bird-watching groups. Would the police risk an arrest with that many people around? Unlikely. They’d wait until he was more in a clearing, like near Rola’s car.