He smirks. “Are you hiding something from me? Maybe the pictures you took at the hotel? Or is it something else you don’t want me to see?”
“No. My photographs are personal, that’s all.”
“Duly noted,” he says.
Then Delmonico pushes past me.
Right into my darkroom.
Chapter 73
“HEY, WHAT ARE YOU DOING? How dare you!”
Delmonico stops in the middle of my darkroom, staring left and right. My pictures are everywhere. They’re like wallpaper. He seems either impressed or overwhelmed by what he sees. “My, my, my,” he mutters. “Such a busy, busy girl.”
“I didn’t give you permission to be in here!” I snap.
He turns to me, his dark eyes boring into my head. “If you’d like, I can come back with a search warrant and turn this entire apartment upside down. Do you want that? Or I could forget about the search warrant and toss your place anyway. You know that good cop-bad cop routine? I’m the bad cop, Kristin.”
“You’re saying I’m a murder suspect?”
“What I’m saying is that you’re not cooperating with a murder investigation.”
“You can’t be serious.”
He takes a step toward me. He’s nearly twice my size. “In case you conveniently forgot, Ms. Burns, people died that morning. Four of them.”
“I know that. I was there.”
“And you were acting rather strange, as I recall.”
“I was upset.” I still am, buster!
“Yet you said you didn’t know any of them.”
“I was upset. I told you that. They were sitting out there on the sidewalk,dead. ”
“But you thought one of them was still alive. That’s what you told me, anyway.”
“No, what I thought was… I mean, yes, but I didn’t actually… uh…”
The more I hesitate, the harder the detective looks at me. I know I’m not making total sense. Worse, I’m digging a deep hole for myself.
“Which is it?” he asks. “Did you or did you not see a dead person come back to life?”
“This is ridiculous. You know I had nothing to do with those murders.”
“You’re just an innocent bystander, right?”
“Yes.”
He laughs in my face. “Is that really what you think you are? Innocent? So virtuous that I have some nerve even talking to you?”
“I don’t know what you’re implying, but I don’t like it. I’m done answering your questions. You can leave.”
Delmonico nods, tucking his notepad and pen back into his pocket.
Thank God! He’s going.
No.
He’s just freeing up his hands.
In a blur, he grabs my shoulders, slamming me against the wall. I hit hard, and pictures go flying, the pain shooting up my spine. I can’t believe he just did that.
“Listen to me! Listen to the bad cop!” he says, breathing fire. “You’re not done with anything until I say you are. You’re wondering whether you’re a murder suspect? Yes, you’re a murder suspect, Miss Burns. For starters.”
I can’t talk, I’m terrified.
“You really think you’re hot shit, don’t you? A real independent woman,” he says. “Well, guess what? It’s only a matter of time before I take you down. Because you are involved with those four murders. That much I know.”
I open my mouth, fighting first for air, then words. “You’re… hurting… me,” I manage.
He shakes his head. “You don’t know the meaning of hurt. But you will.”
The back of one of his hands slowly drifts down from my neck and across my chest.
This is really happening.
What’s he going to do now? Take me in? Arrest me for murders I didn’t commit?
His hand stops just above my breast. It’s right over my heart, which is beating wildly.
“Do you feel that?” he says. He leans in, his eyes mere inches from mine. He doesn’t blink, not once. “When you think of me, you remember that fear.”
He pulls back, letting go of me. I start trembling as he walks to the door and turns around.
“I know where you live, Miss Burns,” he says. “And I know what you did at the Fálcon Hotel. Both times you were there.”
11
Chapter 74
IF THERE IS SUCH A THING as a very bad, very good thing, then that’s what I do the next day.
Penley is going to be gone all day at some fancy-schmancy kitchen tour out in South Hampton – so she says, anyway – so instead of taking the kids to school, I call there to say they have the flu, and then we play hooky.
I really feel that Dakota and Sean need this. Especially Dakota. And so do I.
First things first, we have a total pig-out breakfast at Sarabeth’s, our favorite restaurant in all of New York. Blueberry and chocolate-chip pancakes, with loads of syrup, for everybody. Then we head off to Central Park with only one purpose in mind: to get absolutely filthy dirty, to be real kids for a change, to have a blast.
For three hours, we run and jump and scream our brains out, play tag, play catch, play keep-away, and I don’t have a single crazy thought, don’t smell anything bad, don’t even see any dead people.
We end up at a little concrete playground with swings and slides, and Dakota and Sean are grimy dirty – which I love, and they love too. In fact, I’ve never seen such big smiles on either of their faces.
Of course, I have to take photographs of the kids. Dozens and dozens of beautiful shots. So cute, so picture-perfect.
And then – disaster strikes!
Sean catches his bright red Keds sneaker on the ladder at the top of the slide, and he literally goes head over heels. I watch and I can’t believe what I’m seeing as he tumbles way too fast, then hits the pavement with his face. I swear to God, with his forehead.
Ten minutes later, we’re at the emergency room at Lenox Hill, and amazingly, miraculously, Sean is totally okay and doesn’t even need a stitch. He even gets a lollipop, and so does Dakota.
It’s quiet in the cab from Lenox Hill going home, and then Dakota leans into me and puts her head on my shoulder. I wish I could take a picture of the two of us.
“It’s all right, Miss Kristin. It’s all right,” she says. “We won’t tell.”
“Promise,” says Sean. “We won’t tell. We love you, Miss Kristin.”
And I love these kids so much.
I just love Dakota and Sean to death. Who wouldn’t?
I also feel guilty, and I don’t know how to get away from that. Not about playing hooky for one stupid day, which was great – but about everything else.
And I mean everything else.
Chapter 75
HELL, I SHOULD JUST TOSS my alarm clock out the window. What’s that joke Sean likes to tell? About seeing time fly?
Really, what’s the point of an alarm clock when I’ve got this dreaded dream to wake me every morning? I get the feeling it’s going to be with me for an awfully long time. Like forever.
Same for all the other bizarre stuff filling my days. And all I can do is wonder, Can I really handle this?
Can I get on with my life, such as it is?
Damn it, I’m going to try. With a little help from my friends.
Beth and Connie conference call me on my cell phone minutes after I drop off Dakota and Sean at school. They want to take me to lunch and won’t take no for an answer.
Of course, what they really want to do is see if I’m okay or completely mashed potatoes. The social worker in Connie undoubtedly has her hyperconcerned after my surprise sleepover-cum-meltdown at her apartment. Naturally, Beth heard all about it.
Imagine if I tell them everything that’s occurred since.
Only that’s not going to happen.
That monster Delmonico has me scared silent. About everything. I can still feel his grip on my neck, the look in his eyes.
Anyway, it’s with an “all’s well” attitude that I walk into the Comfort Diner – how fitting – on 45th Street between Second and Third. Connie and Beth are already seated at a table by the window, and I make sure to greet them with a healthy smile.