“Were you working when she was here?” Sarah asked him.
“I was coming for the late shift. But I was just outside. Coming in.”
“And you talked to her?”
He nodded. Sarah thought she saw the glint of tears in his eyes and his voice was husky when he said, “She gave me a big hug and a kiss on the cheek and told me she ‘was about to go roll in some dough.’ I assumed that meant she had met up with a rich guy willing to pay a nice price. She was so pretty. Even...even with the drugs and alcohol. And nice. No matter what, she had something about her. A core that had some real warmth, you know?”
“I do know,” Sarah assured him. She cleared her throat. “Did you tell the police what she said?”
“I wasn’t interviewed. I wasn’t actually in the bar when she was here, so the manager never called me to talk to the police.”
“And you didn’t volunteer to help?” Sarah asked.
“Hey. They were trying to paint a picture of her I don’t agree with—that she was a druggie whore who got what was coming to her.”
“That can’t be true. Any sensible, decent person knows that, whatever someone’s lifestyle, they don’t deserve such a horror ‘coming to them.’ That can’t be—”
She was suddenly interrupted by Tyler’s deep voice right behind her. “Whatever made you think the world was filled with sensible and decent people?”
She fell silent. The bartender was looking at Tyler. Sarah quickly introduced the two. They shook hands as Tyler crawled up on the stool next to Sarah’s.
“You’re not a cop?” Luke asked him warily.
Tyler shook his head. “I’m a PI, in from Boston. Mainly here because, as I’m sure Sarah told you, Hannah was a friend.”
“Pity you guys weren’t around when she was still living,” he murmured.
“Yes, we’re well aware of that,” Sarah said.
“Hey,” Tyler said. The word wasn’t spoken angrily, nor was it shouted. But it was filled with the fact that Sarah could not be blamed—nor could any of them.
“A sick killer is responsible, no one else. When she was a kid, no one could tell Hannah what to do. I sincerely doubt she’d have listened now. But we were her friends,” Tyler went on. “And we will see that justice is done for her.”
“Okay, okay!” Luke said, hands in the air. “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t go bursting into the office and say hey, yeah, I knew Hannah. I don’t know who killed her...”
His voice faltered suddenly.
“What is it?” Sarah asked.
“A man.”
“A man?” Tyler asked.
Luke nodded. “He was in here several times a couple of weeks ago. I thought that he was watching Hannah. No way out of it, with those cat eyes of hers...bedroom eyes, you know what I mean? Anyway, he was watching her.”
“Was he...old, young? Can you describe him?” Tyler asked.
“Well, he was average. He wore a low-brimmed hat all the time—I sure don’t know his eye color or anything like that. Narrow face. Wore a coat, too. But then, you know, when it’s cold, people don’t always take their coats off in bars. Especially this one—the heating system isn’t so great.”
“Anyone else unusual?” Tyler asked him.
“I’ll think...honestly, I’ll think about it. But as far as this place goes... I mean, describe unusual. We get all kinds. Some hardworking, partying-on-Friday-nights kind of people. Drug dealers now and then. But Willie—you met Willie, the night manager, right?” he asked, looking at Tyler. “You were just in talking with him, right?”
Tyler nodded.
“He doesn’t like drug dealers or junkies. He can usually ferret them out and he’s as tall and muscle-bound as you are, dude,” he said, glancing quickly at Tyler and then grimacing at Sarah as if they shared a great joke. “I think they hired him because they don’t need a bouncer when he’s on. Also, he’s the owner’s cousin. Owner is in Utah, so... But you see, Hannah left here—after that, we don’t know.”
“I know,” Tyler said. “And, listen, the cops on this really are good guys. If I can get them to send a sketch artist down here, do you think you could help us get some kind of an image of the guy in the hat and the coat?”
“I’ll go you one better,” Luke promised. “Bring your guy down. We’ll also post that we need any help—no matter how minute—anyone can give. How’s that?” He pointed across the room to a large bulletin board. “Trust me. People will want to help. Kind of like back in the days of Jack the Ripper, you know? People may like to think this guy only went after a prostitute and he won’t target them. But this kind of thing...” A shudder shook his whole body. “This is terrifying!”
“Hey, is there actually a bartender in here?” someone shouted from the end of the bar.
“Hang on, there, Hardy! Give your liver a breather! I’m on the way!” Luke said. He nodded to the two of them.
“Did you pay yet?” Tyler asked Sarah.
“No.” She scrambled in her tote bag for her wallet, but Tyler had already set a bill on the bar.
“I think I’m supposed to be paying you,” she said. “For your services.”
He stared at her and smiled slowly. “I was that good, huh?”
She realized just how her words might be taken, and yet of course he was teasing.
Still...
Ten years between them.
She felt the blood rise to her cheeks. She had not blushed this much since...well, since forever.
“I meant I’m next of kin, or so Hannah said. I’m hiring you to find her killer.”
He shook his head. “I’m going to find this killer for Hannah. And for all of us,” he said.
* * *
TYLER HAD BARELY gotten into his hotel room after dropping Sarah off at her place when his phone rang.
“Tyler?”
He was curious the caller had voiced the question, as he always answered his phone with one word, his surname, “Grant.”
But despite time and distance, he knew the caller.
“Sean,” he said.
“Yeah, it’s Sean. Hey, how are you? I know this is out of the blue, but...”
There was fear in Sean’s slightly garbled and wandering words.
“I’m here. In New York.”
“Because of Hannah?”
“Yes.”
“Thank God!” Sean said. “I mean, you were in the military, right? You, uh, know your way around a gun and all that.”
“I know my way around a gun and all that,” he agreed.
“I’m afraid they’re after us,” Sean said.
Tyler hesitated. Then asked, “Sean, who are they? Everyone thinks what happened to Hannah is horrendous, but why would any ‘they’ be after all of us?”
“You don’t know the latest. Oh, well, it just broke. Maybe you haven’t heard.”
As Sean spoke, Tyler realized he had another call coming in—from Craig Frasier.
“Excuse me. I’ll be right back with you,” he told Sean. “Craig?”
“There’s been another murder. Body and head left in a park by the FDR. There was ID. Her name was Suzie Cornwall.”
Suzie?
Sarah’s best friend? God, no.
“Bob Green called me. You can join us at the park. I’ll text the address.”
He switched the call back over. “Sean, my God, I’m so sorry—”
“Oh, Suzie—our Suzie—is here with me.”
“What? Listen, Sean—”
“No, no, I heard on the news. Suzette Cornwall was murdered. But it’s not our Suzie. Our Suzie is here, with me. We’re married now, you probably know, so she’s Suzie Avery. The cops found me—I guess as a Suzie Cornwall’s husband, in whatever database. She was Suzie Cornwall, too. But...oh, Lord! Our Suzie is here. She’s fine. But that??
?s just it, don’t you see? He—or they!—got Hannah. They’re looking for us, Tyler. They’re looking for us—the group at Cemetery Mansion that year.”
That was crazy. Just crazy. The only person who might want some kind of revenge was Archibald Lemming. And Lemming was dead. Tyler had seen the table leg protrude right through his body.
He’d seen the blood. The ripped and torn flesh, down to the organs and bone. Lemming was not alive. And Tyler had lived with the fact that he was at least partially responsible for that man’s death...no matter if he was a murderer the world was better off without.
Perry Knowlton? Was he really out there? Had Archibald Lemming helped him pretend to die—so that he could live?
“Tyler? Help!” Sean said softly.
“All right, listen, Sean. You and Suzie stay close and keep your doors locked. Don’t go out tonight. Stay in until I know what’s going on. You hear me?”
“I hear you. Loud and clear. Door is locked. But please, don’t you see? He killed Hannah Levine. Now he’s killed a Suzette Cornwall. We’re all supposed to die, Tyler. I don’t know why, except that we were there. We were there.”
“I’ll be in touch. Just stay put. Where are you living now?”
“Brooklyn. Got a little house.”
It was too bad Sean wasn’t living in a tiny apartment with no windows and one door.
“Windows—check all the windows. Make sure you’re secure.”
“Got it. You’ll call me?”
“As soon as possible. I’m meeting the cops at the site.”
He hung up; he didn’t have time to waste on the phone. He put a call through to Sarah. Her phone rang a few times, and in those split seconds he felt debilitating panic setting in.
Then she answered.
“Sarah, listen to me. I’m asking Detective Green to get a man out to your aunt’s house. Now I do think we’re all in danger.”
“What? What are you talking about?”
“Have you seen the news?”
“No.”
“Okay, it’s not the Suzie who was our friend, but a Suzie Cornwall was murdered. I just talked to Sean. They’re fine. But I’m going to stop by for you. I need to get you somewhere safe. You can stay at Kieran’s with her for now. Craig has been living there, mostly, I guess, so I am assuming it’s pretty darned safe. You have to lock yourself in...”
“A woman named Suzie Cornwall was murdered?” she asked.
“Not our Suzie.”
“Poor woman. Oh, my God, poor woman!”
“Sarah, listen to me. Don’t open your door until you hear my voice!”
“Right, right. I won’t,” she promised.
“And call Davey and Renee. Tell them to stay put until we figure something out.”
Tyler hung up, and then, with his wits more thoroughly about him, he dialed Craig back. Craig let him know that yes, of course Kieran would be happy to have Sarah come stay with her. He should have said something; he had thought it was a given.
Tyler thanked him and headed out. His hotel wasn’t far from Sarah’s place on Reed Street. It seemed as if the distance had somehow become greater since the last time he drove it.
He left his car in the street, not caring what kind of a fine he might get, and took the steps to her apartment two at a time.
But Sarah was ready to go. She had a little bag with her. She looked at him with wide eyes, shaking her head. “That’s too much to be a coincidence, right?”
“It’s too close,” he agreed.
“My theory...I think it has to be right!” she whispered.
“It may be right. Listen, I’m taking you to—”
“Kieran’s. I figured. Where else could you drop me at midnight—or is it 1:00 a.m. yet?”
He just nodded.
Then he told her, “I’ll find out more when I see the crime site.”
They hurried out to the car and he got her in safely before he jumped back in the driver’s seat. When they got to Kieran’s place in SoHo, he parked the car in the street again.
“Go on—I’ll run in!” Sarah told him.
“Not in this lifetime,” he answered, leaving the car and taking her arm.
Kieran lived above a karaoke bar. Someone was warbling out Alice Cooper’s “The Man Behind the Mask” as they made their way up.
The singer wasn’t so bad. His choice of song seemed grating.
Of course, Sarah knew which unit was Kieran’s door. She stopped in front of it.
Tyler reached out to knock.
And then it touched him that they were on the run from an unidentified threat, and he was on his way to go see the corpse of a woman—an innocent victim—who, just earlier today, had surely believed she had years left before her.
Life was fleeting.
He turned, pulled Sarah into his arms and kissed her. It was a hard kiss, hurried and passionate, hotly wet and very sloppy. She was surprised at first, but then she returned his kiss, and when he released her, she looked at him breathlessly, with confusion.
“Tyler—”
“I love you. I’ve always loved you. And so help me God, we will survive this!”
Kieran’s door opened; she’d heard something. She had expected them. Tyler saw one of her brothers was there, as well.
“Danny is going to hang with us,” she said.
“Great,” Tyler said. “Okay—”
“Don’t even say ‘lock up.’ I’m a New Yorker, and I live with Craig!”
He actually smiled at that. Then he turned and left. No cops had ticketed his car and no tow company had taken it away.
He drove quickly and competently.
He needed to reach the crime scene.
To see everything in situ.
He had to get there.
And, dear lord, how he dreaded getting there, as well.
Chapter Four
Danny Finnegan was really a great guy.
Once upon a time, Sarah and he had almost dated. She’d somehow known that it couldn’t be a forever kind of thing between them, so they’d stayed friends.
Danny, she thought, had realized the same thing. They were never going to be friends with benefits, either—it would be just too awkward for them and the entire family. And having the Finnegan family as friends was something special; they’d tacitly known that anything between them—other than great friendship—could destroy it all.
And still she loved him as a friend, as she did Kieran.
If it weren’t for the fact that two people had been murdered in a fashion reminiscent of a decade-old massacre, it might have been just a late evening with friends.
Kieran made hot chocolate and set out cookies; Danny diverted Sarah with weird stories about the city. “Believe it or not, this lady kept her son’s corpse in the house for years—up in Brooklyn. She didn’t kill him—poor guy died young of disease. But she kept him—and the only reason the body was discovered was that she was hospitalized herself. A relative went to get some things for her and...well, the son was down to skeletal remains. I’ve heard stories about other people keeping corpses, but I know this one is true! The papers all covered it. We’re a great state—and so weird. Oh, not in the city, but up in Elmira, John Brown’s widow—she being the widow of the John Brown’s raid John Brown!—received a head. A skull, really. Another man named John Brown died down in Harpers Ferry, a skull was found and everyone said that it was John Brown’s—so they sent it to her.”
“Ugh. What did she do?”
“Sent it back, of course!” Danny said.
Sarah smiled, knowing he knew she’d grown up in the city and would be aware of the history of the state, but maybe not all the most bizarre bits and pieces of fact and lore.
“Hey, Cooper Union had the first elevator shaft—not elevator, actually. Otis hadn’t co
me along yet, but when building, Cooper had the basic idea, using a round shaft!”
Sarah laughed. “I think I did hear something about that years ago—NYU students often hung out with Cooper Union people.”
Her phone rang. She glanced at the number and was surprised to see that despite a few hardware upgrades over the years, Suzie Cornwall’s number was still in her contacts.
She answered quickly. “Suzie?”
“Hey. You okay? I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called. I mean, it was okay—not okay, Lord! I’m sorry, it was not okay, it was terrible, horrible, when Hannah was killed. But...it didn’t really terrify me. It saddened me, but it didn’t terrify me. Sarah, now he’s killed a Suzie Cornwall. Oh, my God. That poor woman. She was killed for having my name! I’m so scared, Sarah. So scared. Do you think that...Davey could help?”
Stunned, Sarah stared at the phone. “Suzie, hey, hey, yes, of course I know you’re scared. But...Davey is a young man with Down syndrome. He isn’t a medium, he isn’t magical. That night...he saw Archibald Lemming slinking around. He saw him go into the house. My uncle taught him to be wary. How to really notice things, to watch out for people because, sad as it may be, the world is full of bullies who want to hurt those who are at a disadvantage instead of helping them. He didn’t want Davey to fall victim to someone who meant him ill.”
“But...he knew that night!” Suzie whispered. “Oh, I’m sorry. Sean said this wouldn’t make any sense.”
“Congratulations, by the way. I ‘liked’ it when I saw that you two had married, but I figured a zillion other people did, too. You looked beautiful.”
“Yes, yes. Thank you. I think I actually saw your ‘like.’ I should have called or written then, or...you know. Oh, but I’ve bought all your books!”
“Thanks. I didn’t think you were a sci-fi fan.”
“I’m not.”
“Well, then, thank you very much.”
“Oh, but they were good. Oh, Sarah! I’m so scared.”
“You’re home, right? Tyler told you to go home and stay there and lock in, right?”
“But what do we do in the morning? Sean and I both have jobs. He works down on Wall Street. I’m up by the park at the new department store there—I’m a makeup artist. Sean is a stock broker.”