The Liberation of Alice Love by Abby McDonald Page B

Nathan—who didn’t seem the modest type—was doubtful about the chances of finding Ella, then what hope had she for answers?
    “Can I get you a cab?” Nathan asked chivalrously when everything was cleared away. “I have to stick around here for a meeting, but—”
    “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