“I’m talking about this old man. On the video you can be seen taking his watch off his wrist. Anything else? And did you push him out into traffic to create the opportunity to rob him?”
Anya was aghast. She felt the color drain from her face—that she could be suspected of killing the professor. It took her a few seconds to find the calm she desperately needed.
When she was sure she could speak coherently, she did. “I didn’t push him. Anything I might have taken, I had a right to. Not that you’ll take my word for that.”
“I’m inclined to believe you. Not that it matters what I believe. You’d be better off taking the fifth, I think.”
Anya stared at him. “The fifth what?”
“I’m a pretty good judge of character, but there is the question of motive. Even without direct evidence of you pushing him, that might be enough to convict you. Circumstantially.”
“Motive?”
The sheriff rubbed his index finger against his upper lip. “One of the things they were able to pry out of the people at the bank. How the trust recipients have to provide a code to access those funds. A different code each day. So you steal something off the body of this old man who dies suspiciously and then show up at the bank to claim a large amount of money from the trust. You must see what that looks like.”
Anya smiled. “I can see how it might look. To a cynical mind. You’re saying I stole that code, to get at that money, and that gives me a motive for murder? Is that what you think?”
“That’s one possible interpretation.”
Anya felt herself relaxing. She understood what trouble she was in, at least. “And if I can prove that I got my access to the Travelers’ Trust legitimately, without any need to rob anyone? That would take away the motive. Not that it was murder.”
“If you can prove it...”
She started to rise. “I shall. Right now, though, I’d like to go home and contact a lawyer.”
The sheriff waved through the open door. “I’m afraid I can’t let you leave. The New York City authorities have a material witness warrant for your arrest, and one of my deputies has already called to let them know you’re here. You’ll stay in our custody for now, but we’ll let you call that lawyer.”
He nodded at the woman who’d stepped in behind Anya. “Mrs. Salisbury here will take you into the ladies’ room and search you before we put you into a cell. She’s also the one who’ll fix your meals—so you should hope those New York folk take plenty of time getting up here.”
Anya let the woman lead her away. When they returned, the secretary handed over Anya’s meager belongings—a set of keys to their home here, a few twenty-dollar bills for emergencies, her own watch and the professor’s. She’d been carrying it around for sentimental reasons and now felt foolish.
Of course it immediately attracted the sheriff’s attention. The man shook his head as he looked at her. “Smashed in the accident, but you took it anyway. And keep it with you?”
“Because I cared for him.”
He was staring at the watch with a frown on his face when a commotion made all three of them turn to the front of the building. The sheriff was shaking his head. But Anya knew that distinguished figure coming through the door.
She didn’t know how he could have gotten here so fast though, since Tate would barely have made it back to the house. Anya looked at the sheriff. “This is my lawyer, Mr. Hollingsworth.”
Everyone was looking at the attorney with his salt-and-pepper mustache and expensive suit. He stared at Anya for a long minute before turning his attention to the sheriff.
“I’m afraid that’s not quite accurate. I’m here representing the interests of the Travelers’ Trust.”
Anya shook her head. “It doesn’t make any difference. I just thank God you’re here.”
He gave her a hard look. “Based on the allegations that have been made, there may be a conflict between the trust’s interests and yours. We’ll see.”
Anya sighed. This kept getting more complicated. And since they’d taken away her watch, escape was no longer an option.
Chapter 17
The Slow Path
February 14th, 2001 The Upper West Side
MATT leaned back and stared up at the vast panorama of the universe above them. It never failed to awe. He didn’t need to listen to the soothing narration he’d heard so many times before, but he wished he didn’t have to keep shushing Page with her questions. He’d hinted at a discovery, and that had been a mistake.
He sighed and glanced to where she sat next to him in the dark. This date had been a mistake. He considered the planetarium romantic, and he’d believed Page would too, but she seemed to be bored. Since he’d seen it all before, he decided it would be better to end it now.
Matt lifted himself out of his seat and grabbed Page’s hand to pull her to her feet and head for the exit. This date was only their second dud, and this time it was his fault. She’d let him decide the agenda for Valentine’s Day, for the first time and likely the last. Not that he minded.
She started talking again as they were leaving the auditorium and he had to shush her again. The giant displays in the corridor didn’t seem to impress her either—explaining the formation of planets and their orbits, black holes and supernovas and other astronomical phenomena. Well, he’d been forced to scrap the rest of his plans for the evening as well, so he might as well write the whole thing off. He imagined Page would.
Still, the successes far outweighed the failures. Since she’d scorned the idea of tapping into his own knowledge about dating, he’d been surprised when she’d asked for his help with her research.
She wanted to experience the rituals firsthand, and she needed someone to be the other half of the dates. So he became her partner.
With Page making detailed notes along the way, they weren’t real dates—but they were a lot of fun. And he certainly didn’t mind getting dressed up to the nines on Page’s dime. He enjoyed the variety of the experiments as well—taking her out to a five-star restaurant and the opera one week and out to Coney Island and pigging out on pizza the next. It had been interesting comparing a night out at the movies to a gala opening night on Broadway. Page wanted to try every kind of date.
Despite all that fun, it had also been hard work for him, since she usually demanded the full experience. The pub crawl had been an exception. Page wasn’t a drinker, and she wanted to abstain anyway to maintain her scientific objectivity.
She’d tried to get Matt inebriated, but he’d had to fake it, since he didn’t dare let his judgment get impaired. Not when they were out together.
He needed his wits not only to keep her out of trouble, but for another reason. It was getting harder not to sweep her up in his arms and kiss her. Or make a spontaneous declaration of his feelings.
If tonight’s date was a dud, perhaps he’d be able to impress her in another way. Once they were past the exhibits, he drew her to a quiet place along the wide corridor to make sure no one overheard.
“You remember that website I asked you about last night?”
Page looked less than thrilled. “Yes. And I told you it has nothing to do with us. I thought you had found a lead on the other Travelers.”
Perhaps he hadn’t turned up much through his research so far, but it wasn’t his fault. It was difficult to know if strange occurrences in history were the result of time-travelers or not, and even if they were, he couldn’t be sure it wasn’t future versions of himself and Page who were involved.
As for her friends or colleagues, they could even be in the future, and he had no way to research that possibility. But he had found something.
Matt forced a smile. “It’s the fact that you know nothing about it that makes it a discovery. If it has something to do with the Travelers’ Trust, and if it hadn’t been set up before you and your colleagues were separated...”
“Then it must have been after—either the professor or Anya, I’d think.”
“And
if they set up that ‘Travelers’ Trail’ website after you’d all been separated, then it must be for the purpose of getting you all reunited.”
He thought that would make Page happy, but the look on her face was sad. She wiped that expression away, and he saw the wheels behind her eyes start to turn.
“But how can you be sure it has anything to do with the Travelers’ Trust? And even if it does, how does that help? The website was incomplete, under construction. There were no details.”
Matt grinned. “Not on the website itself. But I checked the registry. Now I know it’s to do with the trust, and better yet, I think I know how it can lead us to the information we need.”
Page just stared at him. “Well, what is it?”
“The website administrator is entered as Verity Dervan, that secretary from the bank that handles your people’s trust.”
They had just visited that bank a few weeks ago. Since none of the yearly stipend had been left in two thousand, Page had wanted to go just into the new year and get a chunk of the funds. She’d claimed a full half. They’d seen Ms. Dervan again, and she’d seemed less cross than the last time Matt had met her, but far from happy.
Matt continued. “Moreover, the contact information listed for her isn’t at her workplace, but at her home. Unofficial. Does that suggest something to you?”
She shook her head. “I can understand if they didn’t want to make it official through the bank, but why would they then trust Ms. Dervan?”
“Why don’t we go ask her? She lives right here on the Upper West Side.”
“And what about our date?”
Matt winced. “You didn’t really seem to be enjoying yourself. I had planned to take you to a great Mexican place with really spicy food. And the salsa there...”
Page smiled. “I’ve read about the salsa dancing craze—it’s on my list to try. Along with something called speed dating.”
Matt felt his face flush but tried to keep his expression blank. He couldn’t let Page loose on speed daters, nor test his resolve with anything as daring as salsa dancing.
“How about we save speed dating? Until we finish the slow versions? And since you said you want to try ballroom dancing, let’s do that first. Though I’ll have to take lessons.”
Page nodded. “I’ve read how some couples take lessons together. We could learn how to dance, and I’d be doing research at the same time.”
“That sounds perfect. But not tonight. So why don’t we go and see Ms. Dervan? It should be late enough for her to be home from work, and too early for her to be eating out.”
“What if she has plans for Valentine’s?”
“She doesn’t look the type to have an active social life, but you can never tell. Since we’re close by, we might as well see if she’ll talk to us.”
She seemed skeptical, but she followed him out of the planetarium and down the sidewalk for a few blocks until they reached a converted brownstone. Matt pointed up at the lighted windows of an apartment on the second floor. “It matches the address on record, and she appears to be at home. Maybe she’ll be glad for company.”
He walked up and buzzed the intercom for the apartment and was immediately buzzed in without saying a word. He opened the door into the lobby while it was unlocked. “It looks like she’s been expecting us.”
They ascended the flight of stairs and had just come up to the apartment door when it swung open. Ms. Dervan stood there smiling in an elegant aquamarine evening gown. Her face fell when she saw it was them.
“What are you two doing here?”
Page stepped forward in front of Matt. “Were you expecting Turner, perhaps?”
Ms. Dervan had trouble controlling her expression for a moment, but she managed it. “I wasn’t aware the trust recipients knew each other, or each other’s associates.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know. But Turner and Anya and the rest are my friends and colleagues. We need to find them.”
The woman’s face hardened. “Come in. They need to be found. And better if you find them first, before the police.”
Matt followed Page down the short hallway and into the living room. “The police? Why would they be interested?” The other Travelers couldn’t possibly attract trouble like Page.
The woman glared. “I have my own questions. Why come to me? How did you find me? And why do you think I’d be waiting for Turner?”
Page pushed Matt toward one of the utilitarian chairs. “My helper Matt here found the ‘Travelers’ Trail’ website. And I know Turner.”
Matt chimed in. “The site is registered to you at this address, but the site’s not really yours, is it?”
Ms. Dervan shook her head and moved to stand behind a wooden rocker and rested her hands on its back. “It’s Turner’s idea, but he never got around to finishing it.” She bit her lip as she looked at them. “And call me Verity.”
Page lowered herself onto the sofa next to the chair Matt was sitting in. “Alright. Verity.”
Matt glanced at Page before he asked the next question. “But you were helping this Turner set up the site?”
“You don’t know him?”
Matt shook his head. “I only know Page. Anya and Turner and the rest are her friends. I just want to help her find them. Do you have any idea where to look?” Or when? But he couldn’t ask that.
“I know exactly where to look. So do the police. The only problem is, they’re not there.”
Page leaned forward. “That may be more helpful than you realize. After all, the purpose of that website must be to lead us to them. The question is when we’ll find them there.”
“Turner called it a trail of breadcrumbs. They’d also put ads in various papers’ classified sections.”
Page’s glare at Matt asked how he had missed that. She turned back to Ms. Dervan. “Neither of those things would work unless they planned to be at a particular place sometime in the future. Do you know the place? Did you ever get any hint of when they might be there?”
Verity looked at Page for a long moment, thinking. “Their address in Chickadee County is in the ads. And the last thing I heard from Turner was a message on my answering machine. Saying he’d be coming to see me next summer. This summer.”
“And yet you’re here waiting for him on Valentine’s Day? Ready for a night out?”
“They’ve got a place just outside of Little Piece. It’s not that far. Turner used to come into the city all the time. They talked about it as a summer retreat, but Turner never said where he would be the rest of the year.”
Of course he didn’t. How could he explain?
Matt glanced at Page, who nodded at him. She apparently approved him asking more questions.
“So they were planning to return to this place in the summer.” Matt remembered when he and Page arrived at the end of July and her friends were gone. “But they left early last summer, didn’t they? They know the cops are looking for them?”
“I don’t know. The authorities didn’t come to the bank asking questions until October.”
Matt smiled at the woman. “And it sounds like he intended to come back this summer. At least at the time he left you that message. So let’s presume he didn’t know there was a problem—at least, not this one with the cops.”
Ms. Dervan stepped around the rocker and sat down properly. “Yes, that makes sense. Whatever caused them to leave so abruptly, I don’t know. At the time I was upset, to be left hanging like that.”
Page reached her hand out to pat the woman’s knee. “Men can be quite inconsiderate, can’t they?” She gave Matt a look he couldn’t interpret. “Until you get them well trained.”
He ignored that and focused on the problem at hand. “So where do the cops come in?”
Ms. Dervan hesitated. “I hope we can help each other. That’s why I’m telling you things that ought to be confidential. October wasn’t the first time the authorities came asking questions about one of the trust recipients. I didn’t tell Turner about t
hat.”
“Why not?” She was clearly willing to talk. So why hadn’t she trusted Turner?
“I didn’t imagine it could concern him. Sometime in July a pair of detectives came about a man who’d been stabbed to death in an alley.”
Matt heard Page’s quick intake of breath. He looked over at her. “Do you know something about that?”
Page nodded. “It’s nothing to do with Turner. It’s nothing to do with any of us anymore.”
Ms. Dervan squinted at the pair of them, then continued her story. “They suspected a trust recipient and wanted to compare prints with the thumb prints we have on file at the bank. Mr. Hemmings couldn’t exactly refuse, but he made them bring in an expert to make the comparison at the bank.
“They apparently matched the prints to a past recipient, who’d accessed the trust twice using different names. But since it wasn’t Anya, I didn’t say anything to Turner.”
Matt wanted to get the conversation back onto the subject at hand. “None of that seems to explain why the cops are now looking for Anya and Turner and the rest.”
“I know that. It was in October the same detectives came back with some video that had been shot at the scene of a traffic accident. We were asked if we recognized a woman in the video as the former recipient they’d matched the prints to. We couldn’t. But we did recognize the woman—it was Anya, and they noticed our reactions.”
Page interrupted. “And you told them all about her and this place up in Chickadee County?”
“They threatened Mr. Hemmings with obstruction of a police investigation—all he told them was her first name, and about that property.”
Matt’s brain was spinning as he tried to make connections. “This video had something to do with the stabbing?”
Ms. Dervan shook her head. “They implied that was the case, but what it showed was Anya rushing into traffic to the side of an old man that had been struck and killed. And then running away.”
Page reached over and grabbed Matt’s arm as she drew in a long, heavy breath. “Professor John. It must’ve been. That explains it.”
She ignored the question Matt looked at her, so he turned back to Ms. Dervan. “Do you know any more about what they want with Anya?”
Millennium Crash Page 20
