The October List

hers once more, pulling her body into him. And then stepped back, as if forcing himself to. She shut off the stovetop gas and they returned to the living room.
    She looked around the apartment. It was sterile, worn in the way of faded elegance, like rich folks downsizing, retiring. The bland furniture had been top quality ten, fifteen years ago but was dinged and scuffed. The cushions had suffered from too many asses, the carpet from too many leather heels.
    Ugly, yes.
    But it was quiet. And secluded.
    Safe …
    The decorations were largely nautical. Prints of ships in turbulent waves, as well as seafaring memorabilia and lanterns and fishing gear.
    Gabriela regarded the wooden display rack of knots on the wall. ‘Yours?’
    ‘That’s right. I tied them. A hobby.’ He looked over the short pieces of rope bound into nautical knots, two dozen of them. ‘They have names, each one.’
    Another wall was devoted to photography. He spotted the direction of her eyes. ‘Not as good as yours.’
    ‘You’ve got an Edward Weston and an Imogen Cunningham, Stieglitz.’
    ‘They’re just reproductions, not originals.’
    ‘Well-done, though. Quality work. And picking those pieces in particular. Weston was a groundbreaker. Cunningham too, though I think she needed more of an edge.’
    ‘And there – something your daughter would appreciate.’ On one wall was an antique riding crop and a pair of spurs.
    An indelible image of Sarah came to mind.
    Sarah …
    She sensed Daniel was about to bring up a serious topic. She was right.
    ‘Mac, I’m going to have some people help us.’ He nodded toward his iPad, on which he’d presumably been sending and receiving emails.
    ‘Help us?’
    ‘They’re good folks. And we need them.’
    ‘I can’t ask that.’
    ‘You didn’t ask.’ Daniel smiled. ‘Besides, I owe you big time. You’re the one who came up with the Princeton Solution. I don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t been there. It would’ve been a nightmare.’
    ‘I’ll bet you could’ve handled it.’
    ‘No. You saved my life,’ he told her.
    Gabriela offered a modest smile. ‘Who are they, these people?’
    ‘A couple of guys I’ve worked with for years. Smart. We need smart.’ Daniel regarded her ambling eyes. ‘She’ll be okay, Mac. I promise. Sarah will be okay.’
    And Gabriela thought: Promise . What an odd verb. A word you can’t trust. Or shouldn’t.
    Like the word trust itself.
    Don’t be so cynical, she thought.
    But that was hard. Gabriela was cynical in the grain. She’d learned to be that way, because of the Professor.
    She saw in her mind’s eye his still face, waxy, surrounded by satin. A material she had come to despise.
    ‘They’ll be here soon.’ He squinted, looking her way. ‘What’re you thinking? Something important. I can tell.’
    In a soft voice. ‘No.’
    ‘No you’re not thinking, or no you’re not telling? It’s got to be door number two because you can’t not be thinking something. That’s impossible.’
    She tried to formulate the words so they didn’t come out foolish. This wasn’t easy. ‘Too many people turn away when something bad’s happening. They’re afraid, they’re worried about the inconvenience, worried about being embarrassed. But you’re not willing to let Joseph get away with this and you’re doing it for me, for somebody you’ve known for only a couple of days.’
    Daniel Reardon wasn’t able to blush, she assessed. But he was embarrassed by her words. ‘You’re giving me a complex.’ He looked around and noted the bar. ‘I need a drink. You? Wine? Anything stronger?’
    ‘No. Just … not now.’
    He opened a bottle of cabernet and poured the ruby liquid into a glass. A long sip seemed to exorcise her cloying gratitude. He had another. ‘Now. We should think about our next steps. Andrew and Sam should be here soon. First, I guess we ought to call the complication. Make sure he’s home.’
    Complication …
    She smiled at the word. Then scrolled through her phone until she found Frank Walsh’s name and called. ‘No answer.’ She sent a text. ‘But I’m sure the list is safe. There’s no reason it wouldn’t be.’
    Daniel’s face remained calm. Though of course he’d be thinking: Without that list your daughter’s dead. And the man who’d kill her, that prick Joseph, will be after you too before long.
    And he didn’t need to add that Joseph would be looking for him too.
    But then her phone buzzed