Then the tears would come. And she’d go back on Prozac or imipramine. She’d spend a week in bed. Reluctantly acquiesce in Kate’s offer that she stay with her and Eddie for a night. Or a week. Or a month.
But no tears anymore. She was here to jump-start her life. The sorrow was behind her now.
Tossing her mass of dark-blond hair off her sweaty shoulders, Carole ushered Pammy forward and kicked the luggage ahead of them as the taxi queue moved up several places. She looked all around, trying to catch a glimpse of Manhattan. But she could see nothing except traffic and the tails of airplanes and a sea of people and cabs and cars. Steam rose like frantic ghosts from manholes and the night sky was black and yellow and hazy.
Well, she’d see the city soon enough, she guessed. She hoped that Pammy was old enough to keep her first memory of the sight.
“How do you like our adventure so far, honey?”
“Adventure. I like adventures. I want some ’Waiin Punch. Can I please have some?”
Please… That was new. The three-year-old was learning all the keys and buttons. Carole laughed. “We’ll get you some soon.”
Finally they got their cab. The trunk popped open and Carole dumped the luggage inside, slammed the lid. They climbed into the back seat and closed the door.
Pammy, Pooh, purse…
The driver asked, “Where to?” And Carole gave him the address of the Midtown Residence Hotel, shouting through the Plexiglas divider.
The driver pulled into traffic. Carole sat back and settled Pammy on her lap.
“Will we go past the UN?” she called.
But the man was concentrating on changing lanes and didn’t hear her.
“I’m here for the conference,” she explained. “The UN conference.”
Still no answer.
She wondered if he had trouble with English. Kate had warned her that the taxi drivers in New York were all foreigners. (“Taking American jobs,” Eddie grumbled. “But don’t get me started on that.”) She couldn’t see him clearly through the scuffed divider.
Maybe he just doesn’t want to talk.
They swung onto another highway – and, suddenly, there it was in front of her, the jagged skyline of the city. Brilliant. Like the crystals that Kate and Eddie collected. A huge cluster of blue and gold and silver buildings in the middle of the island and another cluster way to the left. It was bigger than anything Carole had ever seen in her life and for a moment the island seemed like a massive ship.
“Look, Pammy, that’s where we’re going. Is that beeaaautiful or what?”
A moment later, though, the view was cut off as the driver turned off the expressway and made a fast turn at the bottom of the ramp. Then they were moving through hot, deserted streets, lined with dark brick buildings.
Carole leaned forward. “Is this the right way to the city?”
Again, no answer.
She rapped hard on the Plexiglas. “Are you going the right way? Answer me. Answer me!”
“Mommy, what’s wrong?” Pammy said and started to cry.
“Where are you going?” Carole shouted.
But the man just kept driving – leisurely, stopping at all the red lights, never going over the speed limit. And when he pulled into the deserted parking lot behind a dark, abandoned factory he made sure he signaled properly.
Oh no… no!
He pulled on a ski mask and climbed from the cab. Walking to the back, he reached for the door. But he hesitated and his hand dropped. He leaned forward, face against the window, and tapped on the glass. Once, twice, three times. Getting the attention of lizards in the reptile room at a zoo. He stared at the mother and daughter for a long moment before he opened the door.
TWENTY-TWO
“HOW’D YOU DO IT, SACHS?”
Standing beside the pungent Hudson River, she spoke into her stalk mike. “I remembered seeing the fireboat station at Battery Park. They scrambled a couple divers and were at the pier in about three minutes. Man, you should’ve seen that boat move! I want to try one of those someday.”
Rhyme explained to her about the fingerless cabbie.
“Son of a bitch!” she said, clicking her tongue in disgust. “The weasel tricked us all.”
“Not all of us,” Rhyme reminded her coyly.
“So Dellray knows I boosted the evidence. Is he looking for me?”
“He said he was heading back to the federal building. Probably to decide which one of us to collar first. How’s the scene there, Sachs?”
“Pretty bad,” she reported. “He parked on gravel -”
“So no footprints.”
“But it’s worse than that. The tide backed out of this big drainpipe and where he parked’s underwater.”
“Hell,” Rhyme muttered. “No trace, no prints, no nothing. How’s the vic?”
“Not so good. Exposure, broken finger. He’s had heart problems. They’re going to keep him in the hospital for a day or two.”
“Can he tell us anything?”
Sachs walked over to Banks, who was interviewing William Everett.
“He wasn’t big,” the man said matter-of-factly, carefully examining the splint the medic was putting on his hand. “And he wasn’t really strong, not a muscle man. But he was stronger’n me. I grabbed him and he just pulled my hands away.”
“Description?” Banks asked.
Everett recounted the dark clothes and ski mask. That was all he could remember.
“One thing I should tell you,” Everett held up his bandaged hand. “He’s got a mean streak. I grabbed him, like I said. I wasn’t thinking – I just panicked. But he got real mad. That’s when he busted my finger.”
“Retaliation, hm?” Banks asked.
“I guess. But that’s not the strange part.”
“No?”
“The strange part is he listened to it.”
The young detective had stopped writing. Looked at Sachs.
“He held my hand against his ear, real tight, and bent the finger until it broke. Like he was listening. And liking it.”
“Did you hear that, Rhyme?”
“Yes. Thom’s added it to our profile. I don’t know what it means, though. We’ll have to think about it.”
“Any sign of the planted PE?”
“Not yet.”
“Grid it, Sachs. Oh, and get the vic’s -”
“Clothes? I’ve already asked him. I – Rhyme, you all right?” She heard a fit of coughing.
The transmission was shut off momentarily. He came back on a moment later. “You there, Rhyme? Everything okay?”
“Fine,” he said quickly. “Get going. Walk the grid.”
She surveyed the scene, lit starkly by the ESU halogens. It was so frustrating. He’d been here. He’d walked on the gravel just a few feet away. But whatever PE he’d inadvertently left behind was lying inches below the surface of the dim water. She covered the ground slowly. Back and forth.
“I can’t see anything. The clues might’ve been washed away.”
“No, he’s too smart not to’ve taken the tide into account. They’ll be on dry land somewhere.”
“I’ve got an idea,” she said suddenly. “Come on down here.”
“What?”
“Work the scene with me, Rhyme.”
Silence.
“Rhyme, did you hear me?”
“Are you talking to me?” he asked.
“You look like De Niro. You can’t act as good as De Niro. You know? That scene from Taxi Driver?”
Rhyme didn’t laugh. He said, “The line’s ‘Are you looking at me?’ Not ‘talking to me.’”
Sachs continued, unfazed, “Come on down. Work the scene with me.”
“I’ll spread my wings. No, better yet, I’ll project myself there. Telepathy, you know.”
“Quit joking. I’m serious.”
“I -”
“We need you. I can’t find the planted clues.”
“But they’ll be there. You just have to try a little harder.”
“I’ve walked the entire grid twice.”
“Then you’ve defined the perimeter too narrowly. Add another few feet and keep going. Eight twenty-three’s not finished yet, not by a long shot.”