“Wait, sorry . . . nanotechnology and chemistry. Isn’t that Felix’s dad’s job?” I said.
“Yes, they gave it to Timothy Fong after they put me on leave. He’s good, but . . .” Val shrugged in a way that made it clear what she meant. She laughed. “I told you. Scientists are bitchy creatures.”
“Did you tell the kidnappers you couldn’t get the whole ransom together?” Digby said.
“I turned over the research I did have with some . . . bridging material to make the whole thing more cohesive,” Val said.
“You made stuff up,” Digby said. “Sally was counting on you and you gave them garbage?”
“It was my idea. Two weeks had gone by. Your parents were starting to crack,” Fisher said. “I made a judgment call.”
“You probably got her killed,” Digby said.
“We don’t know she’s dead, Digby,” Fisher said. “There’s never been any proof—”
“What, you still drawing a retainer, buddy? Stop it. She’s dead. You got her killed,” Digby said. “And if I’d known what you had my mother do, I would never have bothered coming back here looking for Sally.”
It occurred to me that the disappointment and anger in Digby’s voice was the first hint he’d ever dropped that he’d been hoping to find his sister alive even after nine years.
“But I feel her, honey. I still feel her. Even though it looks bleak . . .” Val said. “I choose to listen to my feelings.”
“Well, I choose to grow up. Which is a choice I made a long time ago when you and Dad checked out on me.” To Fisher, Digby said, “So. Sally’s dead. Now, what can you tell me about the people who took her?”
Val walked out. She wasn’t crying anymore, but it was obvious she was going to the next room to do exactly that.
“Before we get into it . . .” Fisher turned to me. “I owe you an apology, Zoe. I’m sorry I lied to you.”
“Why me, even?” I said.
“When Digby left town last year, he asked for copies of his sister’s police files and the request Detective Holloway filed triggered an alert I put in place nine years ago,” Fisher said. “I figured, I’m retired, this case has always bothered me . . . I came here and asked around. I found out who you were and I knew he’d seek you out when he came back. I got a job as a manager so I could keep in contact.” Fisher put his hand on my shoulder. “I’m very sorry. I want you to know that even though I had an objective, my friendship with you was real.”
“How much?” Digby said. “How much did my parents pay you?”
“I didn’t keep any of the money,” Fisher said. He knew where Digby was going with it, though, and said, “They ran into financial trouble because they both lost their jobs with Perses. And after the media was done with them, they also both lost their security clearances, so they had problems getting even civilian work.”
I could tell that Digby hadn’t known any of this. I could also tell that he hated being caught off-guard in front of Fisher. “Tell me what you know about Sally.”
Fisher took out some thick files from his bag. “Here’s what I’ve got. Ever heard of the de Groot family?” When Digby indicated he hadn’t, Fisher said, “The public knows very little about them, but they have a piece of everything: petroleum, pharma, defense, agriculture, food processing, telecom, logistics, insurance . . . it’s easier to name industries where we wouldn’t find their money.”
“How can a family that rich stay anonymous?” Digby said.
“They use their influence to stay invisible. Google the Mars family—it’s the same thing. They have people working to keep them out of sight. No photos, no interviews, just a lot of insane rumors,” Fisher said.
“Like?” Digby said.
“They’re a New York Old Dutch family. They’ve been here since pre-Colonial times and they’ve been rich since the 1500s too. And they say even now, the de Groots raise their kids speaking Dutch. And there’s more urban legend-y stuff like the cousins intermarry. Or, how since the fifties, they’ve been cryogenically preserving their dead,” Fisher said. “Just weird stuff.”
“And you think they took Sally because—?” Digby said.
“For a while before Sally was taken, representatives of the de Groot family were hounding your mother, asking her to come work for them. They promised her the kind of funding and support not even the government could give . . .” Fisher said. “They were so aggressive. Of course, we don’t definitely know it’s them, but . . . there was something about how persistent they were and then they suddenly backed off.”
“There’s a lawyer here in town. Jonathan Book. He runs a holding company—a series of them, actually—that owns and manages the building where I think Sally was held after she disappeared. We found these drawings there.” Digby showed him the photographs. “They look like her drawings upstairs.”
“Where’s this?” Fisher said. “Let’s go.”
“It burned down,” I said. “With us in it.”
Digby passed him a photo of Book that he’d found online. “This is from at least ten years ago when he was a partner at his New York firm, which is exactly when you might’ve come across him. Ring any bells?”
“Jonathan Book? Book . . .” Fisher said. “Not the face, but the name might be familiar. Help me look. Maybe on a letter somewhere . . . they wrote to offer Val a job at one point?”
Fisher and Digby dove into the files. There was a huge crash in the kitchen, but Digby and Fisher didn’t even look up. They didn’t miss me when I left to go into the kitchen, where I found Val on the ground, crying and picking up shards of broken dishware. When I walked in, she said, “I always imagined they were watching . . . and I thought if they maybe saw I’d given them everything I had and there was nothing left, they’d just let Sally come back,” she said. “I destroyed my career . . . my family . . . my son . . . destroyed my mind, really . . . But when I heard Philip was back, I just felt hopeful again. For the first time in years, I felt hopeful. I’m not even drinking anymore . . .”
Val’s hand was cut and bleeding, so I led her to the sink.
“Don’t you think I’ll get her back?” Val said.
“I think . . .” She didn’t want to hear me say anything besides yes, but on top of everything she was going through, I also didn’t think she needed me lying to her. “Digby is trying very hard and he’s really good at things like this.”
“He trusts you. I can tell.” Val smiled. “And Fisher says he thinks you two might be . . .”
“No, no . . . we’re just friends,” I said. “And trust me . . . that’s exhausting enough.”
Val sighed. “I can guess it isn’t easy being Philip’s friend.” I didn’t say anything, so she went on. “The thing is, when Sally disappeared, I think everybody forgot Philip was just a little boy himself. Especially his dad . . . for days after Sally disappeared, Joel tortured him.” Her entire demeanor changed as she mimicked her husband yelling at Digby. “‘What did you see, Philip? How did you not hear anything when you were in the next room, Philip? Remember something, Philip. Try, Philip. Try harder.’ And I was so devastated about Sally, I didn’t protect Philip . . .”
Val’s hand finally stopped bleeding and I helped her dry off.
“Thank you, Zoe,” Val said. She’d stopped crying. “Thank you for taking care of him.”
“Um. I should . . .” I pointed at the living room and ran off.
• • •
Fisher and Digby were still hunting through the stack of papers. I watched them for a while until the mess got to me. I started picking up the pieces of paper they’d dropped.
“I could swear I saw that name somewhere,” Fisher said. “Maybe in one of these newspaper clippings?”
“Nah. Then it would have shown up on Google,” Digby said.
I was organizing the stray papers into a discard pile when I found an IPO bro
chure for one of the de Groots’ companies that offered Digby’s mother a job. Out of habit, I turned to the last page. And there I saw it. “Digby,” I said. When he started instead to talk to Fisher, I put the brochure right in his face. “Look. Look who the lawyers were on this de Groot deal.”
Digby read out, “‘Legal Matters: The validity of the shares of common stock offered hereby will be passed upon for us by Arkin, Walham, and Book LLP, New York, New York.’” Digby got on his phone to check that the law firm’s Book was our guy.
“I used to read the back pages of these things because I loved seeing my father’s name on big stock offerings,” I said.
“It’s the same guy,” Digby said. “Jonathan Garfield Book. Partner Emeritus.”
Fisher flopped back onto the couch. “Oh, thank God . . . I felt like I was going crazy,” he said.
“I hate to be the party-pooper, but the de Groots seem to have lots of fingers in lots of pies . . . I mean, wouldn’t we find a link between them and basically every big law firm there is?” I said.
“Yeah, but how many partners of big law firms end up in River Heights owning a company that manages a building with my sister’s writing on its walls?” Digby said. “This is all the proof I need.”
“The narrative works for me,” Fisher said.
“But will it work for the police?” I said.
“The police?” Digby said. “Who’s going to the police? You heard my mother. She committed treason.”
“Then now what?” I said.
“Yeah, now what?” Fisher said.
“Now I need to think,” Digby said. “I want to make these guys pay.”
“Well . . . let me know what you come up with. This is as far as I got nine years ago,” Fisher said. “And I’ve been stuck ever since.”
“Why are you here? How is my mother paying you?” Digby said.
“Sally Digby is the one and only victim I never found. I’m done working the job, but Sally . . .” Fisher said, “she’s stayed with me.”
Digby nodded. “Yeah.”
TWENTY
When I left Digby’s house, he was running through potential next moves with Fisher. To be honest, I didn’t think he’d make it through the night there and I’d gone to bed half expecting to be woken up by him, coming in my window, asking to stay in the guest bedroom. He was either better adjusted or deeper in denial than I’d thought, though, because, according to his text, he slept in his old bed and woke up feeling good.
I, on the other hand, was a wreck. The ER doctor had warned us that the effects of smoke inhalation were often worse the day after, and boy, was she ever right. I still felt fine when I left Digby’s place. And then my throat started to feel raw when I crawled into bed. By the time I woke up the next morning, my head was throbbing and my throat was so sore, I could barely swallow. I hadn’t been to school all week, but Mom could see I was legitimately in no shape to go in, and after she called school to get my absence excused, she left me to sleep.
Later that afternoon, I got a text from Austin that he wanted to meet me in my backyard. He was lurking by the garbage cans when I got outside.
“I didn’t want to bother you in case . . . you know . . .” Austin said. “I don’t want you to get yelled at again.”
“Oh, my dad? He’s not here. In fact, no one’s home. You could’ve just come to the front door,” I said. “You’re welcome to come in. But you should know . . . I’m still all messed up.”
“No, I know . . .” Austin said. “It’s okay. I just came to give you this . . .” He handed me a gallon jug of milk.
“Milk?” I said.
“You said your sinuses were dry, so I asked around . . . one of the trainers said maybe you needed help making mucus,” Austin said. “Milk helps with that.”
“Austin. That’s so sweet.” I hugged him and stayed in the hug for a long time, seriously questioning some of the choices I’d made in the last few days.
“Zoe . . . I wanted to talk to you about something—”
“I know, I know. I’ve been a crazy person this past week. I’m so sorry. Just let me get through this test and I promise I’ll be a totally different person,” I said. “Back to normal.”
“You mean I won’t see you until then?” he said.
“No, I mean, I’m coming to school tomorrow, but I don’t think I can really be a human being until after I take the test,” I said. “Plus, my dad is taking me to dinner tomorrow and that’s a whole nother kind of stress.”
“He’s still in town?” Austin said.
“I think he wants to physically make sure I get to my test before he leaves,” I said.
“Yikes,” Austin said. “Okay. It can wait . . .”
I closed my eyes for our kiss and when I opened them, I was shocked to see Digby standing directly behind Austin.
I said, “Digby.”
Austin said, “Austin.”
Digby said, “Zoe.”
“Digby,” Austin said. “Why am I even surprised?”
“Who knows, man. The mind is a mysterious labyrinth,” Digby said.
Austin turned his back to Digby. “What’s he doing here? Allie said your dad kicked him out.”
“He did,” I said. “Digby? What’s up?”
Digby pointed at the gym bag he was carrying.
“I was just at Henry’s place.”
It took me a second to work out that it was the bag of steroids from our failed fake drug deal with Silk and Papa John.
“Listen, can I come in? I’m pretty sure I’m being followed.” Digby didn’t wait for an answer and pushed past us.
“Did he just say he’s being followed?” Austin said.
Austin and I went into the house, where Digby was lowering the shades in the front room.
“What’s going on?” I said.
“Come here. Look.” Digby pressed up against the wall beside the window, parted the blinds, and pointed at a black SUV parked across the street.
“This again?” I said. “Are you sure that isn’t the Dans’ car?”
“No, these guys have been on me since I left my mom’s house,” Digby said.
“Why would someone be following you?” Austin said.
Digby gave me a look that was, essentially, a plea not to talk about his family’s situation in front of Austin.
“Sorry, Austin, can Digby and I just . . .” I guided Digby into the hallway outside the front room.
“I mean, it could be about the drugs.” I pointed at the gym bag.
“That actually would make sense, because someone broke into Henry’s house last night and beat him up,” Digby said. “But then again, I’ve had this bag with me all day and they haven’t made a move to get it back.”
“Is Henry okay?” I said.
“Well, they tore him up again, but it could’ve been a lot worse. Thank God his sister got home when she did. She beat the tar out of one of them,” Digby said.
“Henry got beaten up? Is that his bag? Did you say drugs?” Austin said. When Digby and I traded looks instead of answering him, he said, “I’m sick of this. How long am I supposed to be cool with you and him acting like you have some big secret I don’t get to be part of? You know what? Fine. Whatever.” Austin walked toward the front door but at a slower than normal pace because he fully expected me to call him back.
And of course he was right to be mad. I wouldn’t have been nearly as patient with him if he’d acted the way I’d been acting.
“Austin, wait. That bag is full of steroids. Henry . . . found it. And he wants us to get it to the police without busting the guys on the team who are juicing,” I said.
I was just congratulating myself on doing a good job at sketching out the situation when Austin said, “I knew there was no way he was naturally recovering from his injuries so fast. Who else is d
oing them? He’s selling?”
“Wait wait wait, no. Henry isn’t using them or selling them—of course not.” I grabbed Austin’s arm. “And you have to swear you won’t tell anyone, Austin, seriously.”
“Okay, okay, I swear,” Austin said. “Ow. That hurts.”
Digby turned around and ran upstairs.
“Oh, come on. What are you doing?” I dropped Austin’s arm and followed Digby. I found him digging through my closet.
“Excuse me? Can I help you with something?” I said.
The pile of stuff he’d thrown out of my closet was growing. He found a bright green duffel bag Mom had gotten as a free gift for a magazine subscription. Digby dumped the contents of Silk’s gym bag onto my bed and started repacking it into the green bag. When he was done, he slid the bag of steroids under my mattress.
“Um . . . what are you doing?” I said. “You’re not leaving that here. What if they come here next?”
“This is a cop’s house. They wouldn’t be that stupid,” Digby said. “It’s really the safest place for it.”
“So, you don’t think the guys in the truck outside are here for the steroids? You think they’re Book’s people following you because you broke into that office,” I said. “But, really, you don’t even know for sure if they are following you.”
“I can prove it.” And then he gave me that look.
“Oh, no. I know that face. What? You have a dumb-ass stunt in mind,” I said. “I can’t. I have company.” I pointed downstairs.
“Oh, but he gets to participate in this one,” Digby said. “In fact, we need Austin for this next play to work.”
“Need Austin for what play to work?” Austin joined us in my room.
Instead of explaining, Digby started to strip off his clothes.
“Um . . . Zoe?” Austin said.
• • •
We were ready to go a half an hour later. Austin and Digby had switched clothes. We’d stuffed old newspapers into Silkstrom’s gym bag.
As he and Digby swapped car keys, Austin recapped the plan. “So I’m going to get in Digby’s mom’s car, drive to the store, then make sure they see I’m not Digby. They’ll think they lost your tail, and then you two can follow without them suspecting. Got it,” Austin said.
Trouble Makes a Comeback Page 16
