“No, thank you.” Alice shook her head. “I’m staying nearby.” Taxis were an unnecessary luxury right then, given her limited funds. Nonetheless, she took out her purse. “Let me,” she said, reaching for the bill. “It’s the least I can do, you’ve already spent all this time…”
“It’s nothing.” Nathan swiped it out from under her hand and took a few notes from his wallet. He gave another of those boyish grins. “I can deduct it. Business expenses.”
“Oh, well, thanks.” Alice got to her feet, wishing she could feel as relaxed as Nathan seemed. They hadn’t mentioned what happened at the party, and now, at this late stage, it seemed almost impolite. Besides, what would she say? “Remember that time you invited me to Paris?” That was surely the way to create a casual, professional relationship. Alice wondered if he’d be just as unconcerned now if they actually had spent the weekend in a passionate embrace. Some people’s ease she envied.
They left the restaurant, strolling slowly past an urban garden area with grasses and a waterfall, cool in the shadow of the towering buildings overhead. Nathan paused, reaching in his pocket for a business card. He found a pen and scribbled another phone number on the back.
“If you could make copies of everything and send it my way, that would be a start.”
Alice gave a short laugh. “That makes, what, four now? The solicitor, the police, the bank…”
“I’ll buy shares in Xerox.” Nathan chuckled. “And think if there’s anything Ella said that could be a clue,” he added. “Even the smallest details are good for the hunt.”
“You like the thrill of the chase,” Alice said, strangely disappointed.
“No, I like the catching,” Nathan shot back with a grin.
Alice studied him, intrigued. “How did you even get into this?” she asked. “Tracking down missing millions, I mean.” It came out sounding only a little dramatic, but Alice knew that her deposit must be insignificant compared with the kind of cases he usually took: Stefan and his kind were not men who usually fretted over a stray thirty thousand.
Nathan took a seat on one of the wrought-iron benches and shrugged. “My dad was a cop—just a regular patrolman, nothing fancy—but he would always complain how they were running around after every street punk in the city while the real criminals were off on their yachts somewhere. So, I set up to do the job for him. I get to pick and choose my clients, only take the most interesting cases…”
“Like fraud and deception,” Alice finished. “But doesn’t it frustrate you—all the unanswered questions and dead ends? I’ve only known about Ella for a week, but already I feel like I’m going mad, trying to understand what she did.”
“I’m not so attached,” Nathan pointed out. “But the great thing about what I do is, the data never lie. The answers are always there. You’ve just got to know where to look.”
“My data lied!” Alice objected. “Look at all the damage Ella did because people believed my details.”
Nathan paused, looking at her sideways for a moment as if he was itching to disagree. Alice wondered why he was even bothering to show restraint and made a gesture as if to say, “Go on.”
“With you, it wasn’t so much the facts that were wrong; it was the context. What happened—what she bought and claimed and where the money went—that’s all fact. Undeniable. Someone took X amount of money from Y ATM on some specific date. Now, whether or not that was you, it doesn’t really figure. Someone did.”
“I suppose,” Alice agreed, reluctant. Her chances of finding Ella seemed slimmer by the day; Nathan might be her only hope left.
“I better be going now.” Nathan got up, extending his hand with mock formality. “Good seeing you again, Ms. Love.”
She shook his hand. “You too.”
“And remind Flora to call about those statues…” With a last casual joke, he left.
Alice watched him walk away, wondering for a moment how different things would be now if she’d said yes, if she’d gone to Paris with him on that whim. Would it have become something real and thrilling or just faded away—a brief spark swiftly extinguished by the reality of his snoring and her need for an ergonomic pillow? He seemed so unaffected by her now.
She’d done the right thing, Alice decided, slipping into the crowd and making her way slowly back toward Cassie’s. She wasn’t designed for foolish spontaneity any more than she was meant for this listless wallowing she’d been caught up in recently. Enough of mourning Ella’s betrayals, Alice decided firmly. She was gone.
It was time to pull her life back together.
Chapter Nine
Moving on, however, proved something of a challenge for Alice when there were still credit agents harassing her daily and the bank to contend with. As Nathan predicted, it only took the words “known to the victim” for the bank to abandon its helpful reassurances and become a cold, unsympathetic foe. To read the official rejection of her claims made it sound as if she were some kind of financial harlot, wantonly waving her PIN number around for anyone to see and practically forcing her security answers on any new acquaintance. Alice half expected to find her file marked “Asking for It” in some secret internal memo.
The debt collectors weren’t quite so polite.
“No, you’re not listening,” she tried again, as the man on the other end of the line at Cash4U began another ominous rant about the dire consequences that would ensue if she didn’t make an immediate payment. It was first thing in the morning, and she hadn’t even climbed out of bed before her phone began to ring. “I’ve been a victim of identity fraud. There will be no payments while the police investigate.”
She had the speech learned by heart. Stefan had recommended it, to keep her from getting frustrated or overemotional—as he had kindly put it. He was right. Even now, on what must be her twentieth call, Alice found herself faltering at the grim threat in the man’s voice.
“If you keep defaulting on your loan, we’ll have to resort to more drastic action. We have your address on file, Alice.”
She shivered, giving brief thanks that she didn’t live there anymore. Then Alice realized she was going to have to get in touch with her old landlord, to warn him that bailiffs might soon be showing up on the new tenants’ doorstep.