Harlan Coben - Play Dead

Of course, there was one giant hole in Richard’s theory. Suppose the psycho and his companions were not through with Laura Baskin? If they had murdered David for his money, who was to say that Laura was not going to be the follow-up? And what if they decided that Richard Corsel knew too much? What if they decided to make sure he kept silent by turning Naomi into a widow?

His mind writhed in confusion. ‘Send him in.’

A moment later, James Ayars came through the door. He looked, Richard thought, remarkably like a doctor. Well-groomed, neatly dressed, gray-haired, good-looking, serious – a TV doctor for the nineties. Richard stood and shook his hand.

‘Please sit down, Dr Ayars.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Is there something I can do for you?’

James got right to the point. ‘I would like to know about Mr Baskin’s missing account.’

‘I’m afraid I don’t understand.’

‘David Baskin was my son-in-law. Before he died, a great deal of money was transferred out of his account. It disappeared, so to speak. I would like to know where it went to.’

Richard almost breathed a sigh of relief. Obviously, Laura had been smart enough not to endanger her father by telling him what she had learned. ‘I’m sorry, Dr Ayars. That’s confidential information.’

‘Confidential?’

Richard nodded. ‘Suppose, Doctor, that you transferred money out of this bank. Would you want any relative to be able to come in and find out about it?’

‘Fair enough,’ Dr Ayars agreed, ‘but Mr Baskin is deceased.’

‘That does not change his rights.’

‘But certainly the next of kin has a right to know what happened to his money.’

‘In most cases, yes. But you are not next of kin, Dr Ayars. Your daughter is.’

‘I understand that, but my daughter has gone through a terrible ordeal these past few months. Couldn’t I act as her proxy?’

‘You could,’ Richard replied, ‘if you had her power of attorney.’

Dr Ayars leaned forward, his face clouded. ‘Have you learned anything new about this matter?’

‘I’m sorry. That’s also confidential.’

James settled back into the chair. ‘I respect what you’re saying, Mr Corsel,’ he said in a quiet voice, ‘but I suspect there may be more to this money transfer than meets the eye. There could be something else at stake here, something very dangerous, something that could hurt my daughter. I need to know what happened to that money.’

The two men stared at each other for a moment. ‘I wish I could help you,’ Richard said, ‘but this situation involves bending more than a few bank rules. You’re asking Heritage of Boston to break the law.’

‘Then how do I find out what happened?’

‘I suggest you speak to your daughter about this.’

James realized it was useless to push any further. ‘Thank you, Mr Corsel,’ he said as he turned to leave. Once out in the lobby, James wondered what his next step should be. Either way he looked at it, if Judy’s crazy suspicions were right or wrong, his daughter was going to continue to suffer. James would do anything to help Laura, to shield her from any more pain, but what could he do to help?

Whatever it took.

James found his car and pulled out of the lot. His daughter had gone through enough torment. He would not let her go through any more – no matter what the cost.

An argument had raged in Judy’s mind all day. Should she call Laura or not? If Judy was wrong about Mark Seidman, calling Laura could be catastrophic. It could reopen old wounds and help the present ones gush anew. It could cause irrevocable harm. And to face facts, Judy did not know the whole story of Mark Seidman. More specifically, everything her mind had dreamed up boiled down to little more than creative conjecture. Being logical, Judy knew that she should not contact Laura yet.

So how come she was dialing her niece’s phone number?

In a strange way, it was time for Judy to stop worrying about what might be best for Laura. Trying to protect her could take away Laura’s one last chance for true survival. The risk had to be taken. Judy had no choice. If she were wrong, Judy would be harming Laura by telling her. But if she were right and chose not to tell Laura, then she would be guilty of perpetrating the worst possible crime against her niece.

Judy’s hand gripped the receiver impossibly tight as the first ring echoed into her ear.

‘Hello?’

Judy’s vocal chords froze.

Laura repeated her greeting. ‘Hello? Hello?’

‘Laura?’

‘Aunt Judy?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why didn’t you answer me?’

‘Bad connection. Sorry.’

‘Forget it. How are you?’

‘I’m fine, thank you. And you?’

‘Doing okay. Thanks for coming last night. It meant a lot to me.’

‘No thanks necessary. You know how I loved David.’

Silence hung uncomfortably in the air. ‘This isn’t a social call, Aunt Judy, is it?’

What to say? How to say it? ‘Not exactly, Laura.’

‘Does it involve last night?’

‘Yes.’

There was another lull. ‘I’m listening.’

Just dive in, Judy. There is no easy way. ‘It’s about David’s death.’

Judy’s words sliced through the phone line like a scythe. Laura’s face fell, her voice barely a whisper. ‘What?’

‘It’s about David’s death. It’s probably nothing – ’

‘What about David’s death?’

‘Laura, I know this is a shock for you. Just bear with me, okay?’

She could hear Laura’s breathing start to settle. ‘Go on.’

‘There are things,’ Judy began, ‘that you know nothing about. Things that happened many years ago.’

‘Many years ago? But David drowned in June.’

‘I know that,’ Judy continued, trying like hell to keep an even tone, trying not to get too emotional and start screaming, screaming until she could not stop. ‘But sometimes the past can overlap with the present, Laura. That was what happened with David.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘I know you don’t, sweetheart.’

‘Are you trying to say that David did something in the past that caused his death?’

‘No, not David. He was an innocent victim.’

‘Then why -?’

‘Listen to me, Laura. I need to talk to you, to show you what I mean.’

‘Show me?’

‘David might be here…’ She stopped herself. An idea had surged into her head, and her mouth had moved with too much speed. This was a dangerous game she was playing, putting the two of them together, but maybe it was the only way to find out if her theory was true. ‘I have some photographs and stuff, but we can’t go over this all on the telephone. Can you come here tomorrow evening? Seven o’clock?’

‘I’ll fly up right now. I’ll be there in a couple of hours – ’

‘No,’ Judy cut in. ‘I want you to be here tomorrow night at seven p.m. Don’t come any earlier.’

‘Why seven p.m.?’

‘Please, Laura, just trust me on this, okay?’

‘But I want to know – ’

‘Tomorrow. Seven p.m. I love you, Laura.’

‘I love you too, Aunt Judy.’

Laura heard the phone click. She replaced the receiver and turned to her guest. Sitting in front of Laura was her mother. The color in Mary’s face had drained away in the last minute or two, leaving a skeletal death mask in its place.

Fire. Satan’s soothing bath water. Emblem of Hell. Instrument of mass destruction. Fire devoured everything in its path without concern for value or worth. Fire scorched the skin, fused the flesh to bones, choked the life out of lungs, eventually leading to…

The killer drove past the Connecticut state line and into New York on the way to Colgate College.