'Well, it's always a possibility. That's where we start. Of course, there are other possibilities, other reasons why a man would disappear. You put me in an awkward. Hey, there's always.'
'What?'
'Always hope.' Craig straightened the files on his desk. 'But in conscience, I ought to warn you.'
'About?'
'A man who keeps checking behind him?' Craig stood. 'Never mind. We'll talk.'
'All of a sudden' - Tess stood as well - 'I don't want to.' 'Yes, that's what my former wife used to say. But you and I will talk. Soon. I promise. In the meantime, I suggest you see a movie, get drunk, whatever'll help you relax enough to sleep.'
TWELVE
Tess seldom drank, and this hardly seemed a good time to start to rely on alcohol, but a long swim and a fifteen-minute sauna did relax her, loosening her tension-knotted muscles. At nine, when she returned to her loft, she felt exhausted enough that, after a salad, she went to bed. But her mind wouldn't shut down. She kept recalling, re-experiencing the troubling events of the day. Joseph? What had happened to him?
Why had he guarded his privacy so much?
When would Lieutenant Craig phone?
Tense again, she tried to read but couldn't concentrate on the new Ann Beattie novel. She turned on the TV and frequently switched channels, impatient with the forced cheery conversations on what seemed an endless stream of talk shows. It wasn't until after two that she finally managed to sleep, but her dreams weren't restful.
At work Wednesday morning, she had a headache that aspirins did nothing to soothe. Regardless, she strained to focus her thoughts on her new assignment, an article about the overuse of herbicides and pesticides on Midwestern farms and the recent discovery that those poisons had passed through the soil and now were present in alarming quantity in the water supply of various cities. Each time the phone rang, she lunged to pick it up, hoping to hear Joseph's voice, simultaneously dreading what she might be told if the voice wasn't Joseph's but instead belonged to-
'Ms Drake?'
'Speaking.' Tess winced, recognizing the gravelly voice.
'This is Lieutenant Craig.'
'Yes?' She squeezed the phone with one hand while using the other to massage her throbbing forehead.
'I promised I'd call as soon as possible,' the lieutenant said. 'Are you free to take off work and go for a drive?'
Tess felt dizzy and closed her eyes.
'Ms Drake?'
'Call me Tess, please.' Yesterday, Craig hadn't commented on her last name, apparently not associating it with her father. To simplify matters, she didn't want him to make the connection, which he might if he repeated Drake often enough. 'Have you found something?'
'Why don't we talk about it in the car? Is fifteen minutes too soon? I'll pick you up outside your building.'
'Fine.' Tess's throat cramped. 'Sure. That's fine.'
'Don't look for a cruiser. To keep you from feeling self-conscious, I'll use an unmarked car. Just wait at the curb.'
Tess set down the phone and shuddered.
Outside, on the busy, noisy, exhaust-acrid sidewalk, she paced. Ten minutes later, exactly when promised, a brown Chrysler sedan stopped in front of her, the lieutenant waving for her to get in.
The moment she sat beside him and buckled her seatbelt, Craig steered out expertly into a small break in traffic.
Tess studied his face, trying to read his thoughts. 'Well?'
The husky lieutenant coughed. 'Rotten throat. My doctor says I might have asthma. No wonder, this crummy air.'
'You're avoiding my question.'
'Just making conversation. It never hurts to be pleasant. Okay, here's the thing. What I've got is good news and maybe bad news.'
'I believe,' Tess said, 'that my line's supposed to be I'll take the good news first.'
'Right. That never hurts either.' Craig turned off Broadway, heading east on Thirtieth Street. 'I checked all the hospitals. You never know - your friend might have had an accident, been hit by a car, maybe had a stroke, a heart attack, whatever, and be in a coma. If he wasn't carrying a wallet at the time, the hospital personnel wouldn't be able to identify him.'
'And since this is supposed to be the good news,' Tess said, 'I gather you didn't find my friend at any hospital.'
'Plenty of coma patients, but not anyone who matches your description of him.'
'Well, that's some reassurance, at least.'
Craig raised a hand from the steering wheel. 'Not necessarily. I checked only the hospitals in the metropolitan area. If your friend took a trip this weekend, to New Jersey, let's say, or Pennsylvania, or up to Connecticut, and if he did have an accident that put him into a coma, I wouldn't know about it yet. These days, almost everything's in computers, but it still takes a while to get access to those other states' hospital records. I've got someone working on that, incidentally. But my hunch is, gut-feeling, we'll come up negative. That's not a promise, mind you. Just a-'
'Hunch. I note and appreciate your qualification.'
'Simply being cautious,' Craig said. 'Long ago, I learned the hard way: seldom affirm, seldom deny. People often don't pay attention to what I'm telling them. They hear what they want to hear, and later they claim I was more positive than I.'
'This reporter understands cautious statements. Please, get on with it,' Tess said. 'I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop. The possible bad news.'
'Yes, well.' Craig stopped the sedan in a blocked line of traffic on the narrow confines of Thirtieth Street. Ahead, at the crowded intersection of Lexington Avenue, a policeman waved cars around a stalled pizza truck. 'My next choice was the morgue.'
'Is that why we seem to be heading toward First Avenue?'
Craig frowned in apparent confusion.
'If we keep going in this direction,' Tess said, 'we'll reach the New York University Medical Center, and next to it, across from Thirtieth Street, is the Medical Examiner's office.'
'So. I was hoping to prepare you. Yes, that's where we're going. Over the weekend, then Monday and Tuesday, there were several unidentified guests of the Medical Examiner.' Craig peered ahead and resumed driving as the traffic cop on Lexington Avenue supervised the removal of the stalled pizza truck. 'Most of the corpses didn't match your description of your friend. But a few, though."
'What about them?'
'A floater in the Hudson River. Same height. Same apparent age. Same body type, with allowance for bloating. I hate to add graphic details.'
'I don't shock easily, Lieutenant. I was in Ethiopia during the recent famine. I've seen my share of. too many. corpses.'
'Sure. No doubt that was bad. I'm just trying to prepare you. It's possible you haven't seen corpses like these. The problem with floaters is the water clouds their eyes, so we can't tell whether the color was green or blue or in this case what we're looking for, gray. There's also a junkie we found in an alley. Overdosed on heroin.'
'Joseph isn't a drug addict.' To keep her hopes up, Tess insisted on using the present tense.
'That might be, but it's not always easy to tell, and as you explained, your friend has a habit of keeping secrets. The point is, this junkie's description is the same as your friend's. Except for his eyes. No help there, either. Rats ate them out.'
Tess inwardly cringed. 'I get the idea.'
'If you're as determined as you told me yesterday.'
'I am.'
'I could show you photographs. That's the usual procedure and a lot less traumatic. The problem is, as vivid as the photos are, they still don't give the same perspective as. In cases where the face has been damaged, it's often difficult to make a positive ID unless.Are you.? This is a terrible question. Are you willing to look at the.?'
'Corpses? Yes.' Tess shuddered. 'For my friend, I'm willing.'
THIRTEEN
Despite her various experiences as a reporter, Tess had never been to the New York City mortuary. Uneasy, she expected something like in the movies, a wall of refrigerated steel cubicles, a
shiny hatch being opened, a sheet-covered corpse being pulled out on a sliding table. Instead Craig escorted her along a hallway to a small room where she faced a large window, beyond which was a dumbwaiter shaft.
Craig gave instructions into a phone, set it down, and explained, 'To save time, I made arrangements earlier. The staffs got everything ready. Tess, it's still not too late to change your mind.'
'No. I have to do this.' She trembled, not sure what would happen next, bracing herself.
A half-minute later, she flinched, hearing a motor's drone. Apprehensive, she watched cables rise, a platform being lifted. As the platform stopped beyond the window, she found herself staring at the swollen, lead-colored face of a corpse with filmy eyes and skin that seemed about to slip off its cheekbones. Although the skin was gray, its texture reminded Tess of a split, peeling, parboiled tomato. Turning away, she felt nauseous.
Craig gently touched her shoulder. 'Yeah, I know. For what it's worth, as many times as I've been here, I always feel queasy.'
Tess fought to restrain the insistent spasms in her stomach. 'Thanks. I think.'She breathed. 'I think I'll be okay. Apparently I'm not as tough as.'
'Nobody is. The day I get used to looking at corpses in as bad shape as this, is the day I quit my job.'
'The sheet that comes up to his neck. It covers the stitches from the autopsy?'
'Right. This is gross enough without.' Craig hesitated. 'Is it him? Your friend?'
Tess shook her head.
'Are you positive? From being in the water so long, the face is disfigured. You might not be able to."
'It's not disfigured enough that I wouldn't recognize him. This isn't Joseph.'
Craig sounded awkward. 'That must be some relief to you.'
Tess felt clammy. 'So far, so good.'
'So far. That's the trouble. Unfortunately there are others. Do you think you can.?'
'Hurry. Let's finish this.'
Craig picked up the phone and gave new instructions.
Again Tess heard a drone. Still averting her gaze from the window, she imagined the platform descending, the corpse disappearing. 'Can I-?'
'Yes. It's gone. You can turn around now.'
Tess slowly pivoted, her legs unsteady. Her breath rate increased. Once more, the drone of the rising platform made her flinch. She became light-headed and mustered all her discipline, forcing herself to study the next corpse that stopped beyond the window.
Craig had warned her that rats had eaten the eyes, but she wasn't prepared for the further damage that the rats had inflicted. The corpse's lips had been chewed away, exposing teeth that seemed to grin. The nose was gone, leaving two grotesque slits. There were jagged gaps in the cheeks, a shredded oval hole beneath the chin, like an obscene second mouth, and.
Tess spun away. 'Get it out of here!'
Despite the pounding behind her ears, she heard Craig speak to the phone and in a moment, mercifully, the drone of the descending platform.
Craig gently touched her arm again. Tess felt him waiting and sensed his hesitation, the uneasiness with which he tried to think of a sympathetic remark before he'd be able to ask.
'No, it isn't Joseph.' Tess shook. 'His forehead's too narrow.' She breathed. 'His hair's the same length, but the part's on the right instead of the left. Thank God, it isn't Joseph.'
'Come over here. Sit down.'
'I'll be okay.'
'Sure. All the same, you look pale.' Craig guided her. 'Come on, take a rest. Sit down.'
Tess obeyed, leaned back, closed her eyes, and felt cold sweat on her brow. 'Is that the end?' Her voice was a whisper. 'In the car, you mentioned only those two corpses. I want to know about my friend, but I hope to God there aren't any more.'
Craig didn't answer.
Slowly, nervously, Tess opened her eyes.
Craig glanced toward the floor.
'What?' Tess asked with effort.
Craig pursed his lips.
'Tell me.' Tess frowned, her voice regaining strength. 'Are there others? You're. What are you holding back?'
'. There is one more.'
Tess exhaled.
'But I don't think the victim can be identified. Not this way anyhow. Not visually. Probably only by bone X rays, dental records, and.' Craig gestured, ill at ease. 'He was burned. Over much of his body, especially his face. I don't know what use it would. I really question whether you should look at him.'
'It's that hopeless?'
'Definitely worse than what you've seen. I doubt that viewing the body would accomplish anything, except make you sick.'
'You mean sicker than I already am.'
Craig grimaced. 'I guess that's what I mean.'
Tess debated, concluding with relief, 'If that's your opinion. I want to do everything possible to learn what happened to Joseph, but if.'
'The only reason I even mentioned the victim is.' Craig peered toward the floor again.
'You're still holding something back.'
'Is where he died.'
Tess felt a worm of fear uncoil in her stomach. 'Where he died? What are you trying to say, Lieutenant?'
'You mentioned you were supposed to meet Joseph on Saturday morning.'
'Yes. So what?'
'To go jogging.'
'Right.' Tess straightened.
'On the upper East Side. At Carl Schurz Park.'
'Damn it, I asked you, what are you trying to say, Lieutenant?'
'That's where this victim was found. At three a.m. on Saturday night. In Carl Schurz Park.'
Tess surged to her feet. 'Jesus. How did he.?'
'Get burned? We're not certain yet. The victim might have been a derelict, sleeping in the park. It closes at one a.m., and it's supposed to be patrolled, but sometimes street people sneak in and manage to hide. The victim was doused with gasoline and set ablaze. The autopsy shows he died from the flames, not from a knife wound or a gunshot that a fire is sometimes used to conceal. The blaze destroyed his clothes, so we can't tell if he was a derelict, but as we know, sometimes kids get their kicks by tracking down vagrants while they sleep and setting them on fire. That neighborhood doesn't see much trouble, so near to the mayor's house. The gangs tend to stay farther north and west. All the same, the scenario I just described is consistent with what happened.'
'But do you believe that scenario? You wouldn't mention this victim unless you thought there was a chance' - Tess could hardly say the words - 'he might be Joseph.'
'All I'm doing is pointing out a common denominator.'
'Carl Schurz Park.'
Craig nodded. 'But it's probably just a coincidence. Your friend wasn't a derelict. What would he be doing in the park at three a.m.? Especially that night.'
'What's so unusual about last Saturday night?'
'On Sunday, it rained, remember?'
'Yes.'
'Well, the storm began around two in the morning. Even if your friend couldn't sleep and felt tempted to take a walk, is it reasonable to believe he'd have gone out after he saw it was raining? And if he did, why would he have left the street to climb the fence of a park that was locked for the night?' Craig shrugged. 'The scenario that doesn't raise questions is the one I described. A derelict snuck into the park to find shelter. Kids followed him and set him on fire.'
Tess bit her lip. 'All the same, I don't have a choice.'
'Excuse me?'
'I have to look at the body, to try to assure myself it isn't Joseph. Otherwise I'll never stop wondering.'
'I meant what I said. It's much worse than the others.'
'Please, Lieutenant.'
Craig studied her. 'Why don't we compromise?'
'I don't' - Tess swallowed - 'understand.'
'I admire your loyalty to your friend. But why not do yourself a favor? This time, look at photographs. Since visual identification is almost hopeless, the difference won't matter, and you can still put your mind at rest.'
She thought about it, dismally nodding.
'I'l
l be back in a minute,' Craig said.
Alone in the room, Tess waited nervously, darting her eyes toward the window and the horrors she'd seen beyond it. She wondered what greater horror she soon would-
Lieutenant Craig re-entered the room, carrying a folder. He opened it, then hesitated. 'Remember, the fire disfigured most of the body, especially the face. All of the body would have been disfigured, but it seems that the victim had strength enough to run through the rain and get to a pool of water. He managed to roll in it and put the flames out before he died.'
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