Blood Trust - Eric van Lustbader [91]
“What about the kids?”
“What about them?” Rachel’s words were muffled by her fingers.
Naomi tossed her head. “Where are they?”
“Out. Anywhere. I don’t know. I tried their cells, but they’re not answering.”
“We should find them.”
“Good luck with that.”
Naomi touched the point of her sister’s reconstructed chin. “Rachey, look at me.”
Reluctantly, Rachel lifted her head. Her eyes were red-rimmed, but the Botox protected her forehead from the folds of extreme emotion.
“I’m so sorry. I know how close the family is.”
Rachel made no response. Instead, she took in the grand room.
“He’s going to screw me.”
“What?” For a moment, Naomi thought she hadn’t heard right. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll ask around, we’ll get you the best divorce lawyer on the East Coast.”
“Are you shitting me?” There was fire in her sister’s eyes. Apparently, the period of mourning was over. “My soon-to-be ex-husband is the best divorce lawyer on the East Coast.” She wrung her hands. “Dear God, what d’you suppose my future is going to look like?”
Naomi was taken aback. “Rach, aren’t you the least bit—”
“What? The least bit what?”
“Isn’t there any chance to reconcile?”
“Don’t be dense. Larry’s been cheating on me for months—maybe years. This”—and here she used a four-letter expletive that made Naomi shudder—“is probably one of a long line of heifers.”
“I know he’s hurt you, but—”
Rachel shook her head. “Don’t you get it, Nomi? He’s made up his mind, and now he’s going to rape me. No decent attorney will stand up to him and he’s tight with every judge on the bench.”
“Surely you’ll get the kids. And he’ll have to pay child support as well as alimony.”
“What he’ll give me is a pittance.” Her fingers balled into fists. “I want my money, my home, my security. I won’t have shit when he’s done with me.” She began to sob again, and then she wailed, “I want my life back.”
Naomi sat back, feeling lost and helpless. Is this what life came down to, money? Is that all there was after the golden glow was gone? For the first time since they had been adults, she looked clear-eyed at her sister. For years she had bought into Rachel’s fairy-tale existence. But who was Rachel, except an adjunct of Larry, a possession not very different from the De Kooning or the Basquiat? She was cast off, like the Steinway, a presentation piece that had outlived its usefulness.
She sighed and took Rachel’s hands in hers. They were as cold as ice. “What can I do to help?”
The calculating look she knew so well had once again taken up residence in her sister’s eyes. “There’s this bank account Larry uses. I’m not supposed to know about it, but I do. God knows what he uses it for, but huge sums of money go in and out pretty regularly.” Rachel’s eyes sought hers. “Use your contacts at Treasury to have the funds frozen, maybe you can get them to start an investigation.”
On what grounds? Naomi was about to say, but a warning bell had gone off in the back of her mind. She knew herself well enough to pay attention when that bell rang. “… there’s this bank account … huge sums of money go in and out regularly.”
“Nomi, this is life and death. Are you listening to me?”
Life and death, yes. And then it hit her like a thunderbolt. Jesus Christ, I’ve been looking for a break in this case in all the wrong places.
* * *
PAULL BROUGHT his assault rifle to bear on Thatë. “You may have had Jack and the girl fooled, but not me. It was obvious you were Xhafa’s man all along.”
“Lower your weapon,” Thatë said softly.
Jack noted the change in his demeanor. Out here in the wild he was more confident, if not more aggressive. The kid’s appearance could explain the cease-fire,