Part 22 (1/2)
”What do you mean, you know where?” Wally demanded. ”How is that? How do you know where they're taking Johanna?”
”I'll explain on the way,” Claire answered, still distressed but keeping herself together. She looked at her watch. ”We have time.”
Bewildered, Wally stared at her mother and realized something: Claire was appropriately shocked to hear about the violent tragedy at the Brooklyn Navy Yard-and the murder of Charlene Rainer-but the news about Johanna's true ident.i.ty didn't seem like a surprise to her. And the fact that she knew where Johanna was being taken ... Wally almost got the sense that events were playing out in a way that Claire had antic.i.p.ated. Or dreaded.
”Mom? You knew about my Russian mother all along? You knew that Yalena was right here, all the time?”
Claire released her answer with great difficulty, as if breaking a vow.
”Yes.”
”You know that she's been watching over me?”
”Yes.”
”How could you let it be?” Wally demanded, hurt and anger in her voice. ”How could you know that and keep it from me all this time?”
”It's so complicated, Wally,” Claire said. ”Right now, Johanna is in trouble and we can help her. We have to get ready. Right?”
Wally couldn't argue the point; Johanna needed their help now. Everything else could wait.
”And you know where they've taken her?” Wally asked.
”It's she who will take them,” Claire said with certainty. ”The men are after something, something that was taken from them-”
”The alexandrite?”
The name of the stones-coming from her daughter's mouth-shocked Claire again.
”My G.o.d, Wally ... what have you been doing? Who have you been talking to?”
”There are more of them? That's what my father is here for. Johanna is taking them to the stones?”
”Yes, but we can be there first. Understand? We have time, but we have to get ready. All right?”
Wally was suddenly too tired to argue. Claire ran a hot shower and helped Wally peel off her torn, b.l.o.o.d.y clothing. Wally's eyes had a vacant look now, her eyes-and heart-cried out and empty. She stepped into the shower. Immediately, the pulsing hot water began to soothe and revive her.
”I'll find you some clean clothes,” Claire said as she disappeared from the bathroom, ”and put on some coffee.”
Wally turned the outer ring on the showerhead until the pulses were slow and heavy. There was a small tile bench at the back of the shower stall and she sat down on it, bowing her head low so that the rhythmic bursts struck directly at the back of her neck and sent a tingling sensation down the sore muscles of her back. She would allow herself ten minutes in the shower-just long enough for calm to take hold. Physical and emotional exhaustion was lurking just beneath the surface of her disturbed consciousness, and Wally could not allow herself to give in, not yet.
Anyway, it was absurd to imagine how she could possibly sleep with the images now coursing through her mind: Johanna being struck down and tossed into the cab of the tow truck. The sight of her best friend, Tevin, dead and alone on the tarmac of the Navy Yard because he insisted she leap the fence first. Dead, in defense of her, the same boy she had slept with just two nights before. Was he still lying there on the ground of the Navy Yard, even now? Or had he been removed, s.h.i.+pped off to a cold slab at the city morgue?
Wally knew that all these tragedies had taken place because of her, because she had placed the goal of finding her mother above every other concern, and when that moment had finally arrived, it was a disaster. But Johanna was still out there, somewhere, and still alive. Wally needed to focus not on the past but on what would happen next. Any hope for saving Johanna seemed to hinge on Claire. She claimed to know where the two men would be going with Johanna and seemed determined to do what she could to save her. This of all things was no surprise; over the course of Wally's life, Claire had proved that she would willingly sacrifice herself to protect someone she loved.
Oh no, Wally thought, struck by a sudden realization.
Wally bolted out of the shower, running out of the bathroom and back into the apartment. The place was silent and empty. Wally cursed herself. Still naked and dripping wet, Wally jumped to the front door and flung it open, revealing an empty hallway.
”s.h.i.+T!” Wally grabbed the house phone and the doorman downstairs immediately picked up the line.
”Miss Stoneman?”
”She's gone?” Wally barked into the phone. ”My mother left the building?”
”Well ...yes, Miss Stoneman. About five or six minutes ago.”
”She took the car?”
”Yes, she did. Is there anything I can-” Wally threw down the phone in a rage and stomped around the living room, pacing in circles, directionless and frantic. ”s.h.i.+t!” It was a few moments before Wally noticed the single piece of notepaper on the dining room table, held there in place by a small gla.s.s paperweight. The note read: You'll be safe here, Wally. Im sorry and I love you, more than I can ever say, or prove. Love, Mom.
”s.h.i.+t!” Wally shouted again, then retrieved the phone she had thrown to the floor. She hit the speak b.u.t.ton and heard the dial tone. Good, she hadn't broken it. Wally dialed Claire's cell phone number, but after seven or eight rings the call was patched over to Claire's voice mail. Wally hung up and redialed three times until Claire finally picked up. ...
”Wally ...”
”Mom! Whatever you're doing-”
”Wally-”
”No! This is MY life, Mom! I made this happen! This is something for me to fix. Tell me where you're going.”
”No, Wally. I'm sorry. I love you.” And then Claire hung up her line.
”d.a.m.n IT!” Wally hollered to the empty apartment; she barely resisted hurling the phone down again. Instead she hit redial once again, but now the line went straight to voice mail; Claire had turned off her phone.
Wally paced through the apartment, frantically trying to think through the problem. As her mind spun the possibilities, she went to her room and put on some jeans and a turtleneck, readying herself to head out into the night as soon as she had figured out what to do, what move to make next. She realized that she would have to calm down if she had any hope of solving the problem.
She took several deep, cleansing breaths, the way Claire had taught her when she was a frustrated, angry little girl. Breathe in through the nose to the count of four, hold for seven seconds, then out with a whoosh to the count of eight. After three or four of these breaths, Wally felt her thinking gradually came back into focus.
What did she know? Wally thought about the brief phone call with Claire; there had been sound in the background, but nothing specific, just a constant, relatively high level of background noise. What did that mean? Claire's car was an Infiniti SUV, low to the ground and powerful but with good sound insulation and with a hands-free cell phone system that had noise canceling built in. To produce engine sound that noticeable, the car would have to be traveling at speed. That probably meant that Claire was not driving on city streets. No, Wally guessed that the Infiniti was on an expressway.
So, which one? Since she'd needed to get herself ready and then have the valet get the car out of the bas.e.m.e.nt garage, Claire had only had a few minutes' head start. So the road had to be a close by, no doubt the West Side Highway, but that didn't narrow down the possible destinations really; it only suggested that she was headed away from Manhattan.
What else did Wally know? Not much. The more she pressed herself to think through her situation, the greater her sense that she was completely in the dark, and had been in the dark her entire G.o.dd.a.m.n life. Sheltered, coddled, appeased ... lied to. s.h.i.+t.
Stop being angry, Wally silently commanded herself, and think.
What else did she know? She reviewed the few moments she and Claire had shared in the apartment. What else had Claire said? She had been shocked, certainly, by Wally's hastily reconstructed news about all that she had been through that night, ending with Tevin's death and Johanna's abduction.
”The two of them took Johanna and now she's gone. I don't know where.”
Wally had grieved, the image of Johanna being thrown into the tow truck still painfully fresh in her mind.
”I know where,” Claire had replied, and it had not been a guess on her part; it had been a statement of fact. She did know where. What else did she say? Wally ran through their brief exchange, trying pick out anything useful but not coming up with anything. Claire had run a hot shower for Wally, and she was going to put out some clean clothes for her. Claire also said was going to make coffee, but that was obviously just a misdirection to set Wally at ease and give Claire time to get away.
”We have time,” Claire had said confidently. We have time? How could that be? The men had taken Johanna away and were guaranteed to hurt her if she did not give them exactly what they wanted. Obviously, Klesko was convinced that there was still some money and stones remaining from the cache that Yalena had taken from him. Where had they been kept all these years? A bank? Some sort of storage facility? Either of those might explain the ”we have time” comment; a bank vault or storage facility would operate on a preset schedule, accessible only at a certain hour the next morning. That made sense. Claire must have known exactly where the remaining stones were kept and when they would be accessible.