“Was Alex Traynor with her?”
“Nah. That guy just mopes around,” Bobby said. “There’s something wrong with his leg.”
“I remember that,” the lady cop said. “He was shot back when he was covering the war in Syria. Bullet left him with a slight limp.”
“And a bad temper,” Bobby added.
That got a raised eyebrow. Suddenly, the lady cop was intrigued. “Tell us about that.”
“It’s just how he is.” Bobby shrugged. “Always angry about something.”
“Did he and Emily fight?”
“Oh, yeah. Not all the time, I mean. Just sometimes.”
“You hear anything specific?”
“Well . . .” Bobby gave it some thought. This was something he should come clean about. “There’s been a couple times where there’s been some crazy screaming and shouting from their apartment in the middle of the night. The guy in 4C, the apartment below, told me they woke him up in the middle of the night. Said it was like they dumped a tray of silverware on the bedroom floor.”
“What’s this neighbor’s name? We should talk with him.”
“Raj Patel,” Bobby answered. “He’s a programmer. He moved out, like, five months ago. I think maybe he’s in Hong Kong now. That or Singapore.”
“Did you talk to Traynor or Teare about what happened?”
“Hell, yeah. I told them they can’t be waking up the neighbors with their fighting. Emily was all apologetic about it. She’s always really nice. Alex kind of brushed me off. He didn’t want to talk about it.”
The lady cop made a bunch of notes, her hot eyes finally off his face. That gave Bobby a surge of relief. She wasn’t a human lie detector, and she couldn’t read his mind. She took everything he said at face value. And he was telling the honest truth about those weird middle-of-the-night incidents. But she had no way of knowing that he wasn’t telling the whole story about seeing Emily return from her run on Friday night. It wasn’t like he could tell that without incriminating himself. He was no dummy, after all. He’d come close to being put away in jail a couple times, but he’d always managed to wriggle off the hook at the last minute. Sorry, Emily, he thought. But if this is about choosing between you and me, I’m choosing me.
CHAPTER 8
ALEX
When the taxi pulled up on Second Avenue, in front of the stately building that housed the law offices of Leeward, Stein & Hoskins, Alex caught sight of a tall Chinese man heading for the building. There weren’t many people he knew who could carry off a vintage serge-blue suit. This timing was too perfect. “CJ!” he called, rushing out of the cab.
CJ Leeward’s sleek, pomaded head turned. “Alex? What are you doing here?”
“I’m sorry to crash in on your day like this, but I have to talk to you.”
“Is everything all right?” CJ’s dark eyes searched his face.
“No, it’s not,” Alex answered quietly.
“Okay.” CJ instantly snapped into business mode. “Do you want to come up to my office?”
“This is . . . kind of delicate,” Alex said. “Do you have time to walk down to Dag Hammarskjöld Plaza?”
“Barely, but now I’m completely intrigued and a little worried. What’s happened?”
“I tried calling you a couple times over the weekend,” Alex said.
“I saw that, but you didn’t leave a message. I thought you might be butt dialing me.” CJ smiled. “Jayson and I were away in Chicago with the kids for the weekend. Family wedding.”
“I was wondering if you’d heard from Emily.”
“No, why?”
“Because she’s gone,” Alex said.
CJ stared at him in alarm. “Gone where?”
Alex shook his head. “She didn’t tell me. Look, there’s something going on with her. I don’t have a lot of details, but I think it’s serious. How much can I tell you, without . . . ?”
“Without causing a problem? Let me stop you right there,” CJ said. “Hypothetically speaking, if we’re just talking about a . . . situation Emily’s in, this conversation isn’t privileged.”
“Even though you’re my lawyer?”
“I’m an immigration lawyer who has to deal with criminal law on a regular basis,” CJ said. “That was why I was able to help you out last year. If Emily were speaking to me directly, I might be able to help her too. But you filling me in on Emily’s problem . . . that’s not covered by privilege.”
Alex weighed his words. He didn’t feel like talking to anyone about Emily, but CJ was Emily’s oldest and dearest friend. More than that, Alex knew what a solid, steady presence he was. If anyone could help him figure out what to do, it was CJ.
“Okay, here’s what I can tell you,” Alex said. “I came home Friday night, and Emily was gone. She left me a note with her engagement ring. She said she was going away for a few days and not to contact her, that she’d be back to pack up her stuff.”
“I don’t understand. You two are engaged. What would make her leave?”
“It’s not about us or our relationship.” Alex stopped in his tracks suddenly. “Or maybe it is. All weekend, I’ve been telling myself that Emily went away because she had to deal with an issue. Now that I hear myself saying it out loud, I feel like an idiot. She left me. Maybe there was something wrong between us.”
“No,” CJ said confidently. “I know Emily. When the four of us went out to celebrate, she was ecstatic. She loves you, and she wants to marry you.” CJ and his husband, Jayson, had taken Alex and Emily to a restaurant called One if by Land, Two if by Sea, a romantic spot located in an eighteenth-century carriage house once owned by Aaron Burr. The rooms were small, and the ambiance was quiet. Even Emily, who rarely drank, had champagne that night. It had been one of the best nights of Alex’s life. Had that really been a month ago? It had.
“Did she say anything to you about wanting to go away?” Alex asked.
“Yes, but it was about wanting to go away with you.” CJ seemed dazed. “Somewhere with a beach. She was thinking about Cuba.”
“I’m positive that’s not where she went,” Alex muttered darkly.
They were standing in front of Dag Hammarskjöld Plaza. “Let’s go this way,” CJ said. “Remember the Katharine Hepburn Garden?”
They took a few steps east on Forty-Seventh Street. The garden itself was small, just a narrow flagstone path running most of the length of the block, lined with trees and shrubs, but there was something serene about it. It had four fountains flanking it, each one under a squared-off metal trellis, and the sound of the water made the city recede. Alex could breathe easier there.
“We had a fight on Friday,” Alex said softly. “I went to Emily’s office at noon, and . . . well, we argued. I can’t give you any of the details if this isn’t privileged. All I’ll say is that’s why I’m worried about her.”
“Now I feel bad,” CJ said. “Emily and I were supposed to go out for dinner last week, but I had to fly down to DC at the last minute. Then I had to turn around and fly to Chicago. It’s been a hectic month.”
“All weekend, I’ve been trying to figure out where Emily would go,” Alex said. “No one seems to have heard from her. I don’t think they’re lying. She just vanished.”
“Did she take her brother’s car?” CJ asked.
“I wondered about that, because the keys weren’t there when I came home Friday.” There was a fleeting image in Alex’s mind of himself in the Bronx lot where Emily parked the car, staring into a window. Had he gone all the way out there? He’d meant to. He raked one hand through his hair. Was that where he’d gone in the middle of the night on Friday? It drove him crazy that he couldn’t remember. All he knew for sure was that he’d found himself on the platform of Old City Hall Station at three in the morning, completely in the dark about how he’d gotten there. He was too ashamed to tell CJ; that would be an admission that he’d completely lost his mind. “I don’t really know. But I called Emily’s aunt and uncle in High Falls on Sat
urday. She’s not there.”
“It’s not like Emily to run away from something,” CJ said. “She’s tough as hell.”
“So how do I help her?” Alex asked. “If I know she’s in trouble but I don’t know what’s going on?”
“I wish I knew. She hasn’t tried contacting you?”
“No. The only thing is . . .” Alex cleared his throat again. “There was a woman who came to the apartment last night. I mean, she had a key and let herself in. She was looking for something, I think.”
“How did she get a key?”
“She said Emily gave it to her. Diana, she called herself. She said she knew Emily, told me some fake story about leaving her abusive boyfriend. I don’t believe anything she said, but she had enough details that I believe she knows Emily.”
“You think she’s involved in whatever Emily’s mixed up in?”
“The thought crossed my mind,” Alex said. “But it doesn’t add up. The other thing is Diana ran out of the apartment like a bat out of hell when she saw Cori’s picture.”
CJ was silent for a moment. “Cori had a key to your apartment, didn’t she?” CJ asked. “Maybe that’s how Diana got it. She could be an addict, looking for drugs or money.”
“I don’t think she took anything,” Alex said. “It’s not like we keep cash in the house, and Emily’s diamond ring was still there.”
“I just don’t like the sound of anything you’re telling me,” CJ said. “I know Emily is smart and levelheaded, but I also know she’s perfectly capable of getting herself into trouble to help someone else. Am I getting warm?”
“Maybe.” Alex’s voice was noncommittal. Before he could say another word, his phone rang. He glanced at the screen and saw a friend’s name. Still, he didn’t want to answer it.
“Do you need to take that?” CJ asked.
“No. It’s just Will.” Alex pressed a button, sending the call to voice mail. “I’ll talk to him later.”
“Will Sipher? How’s he doing?”
“About the same, I guess.”
“I was sorry I couldn’t help with his situation,” CJ added. “It’s far from my realm of expertise.”
“What do you mean?”
“Emily asked me about overturning his conviction,” CJ said. “Will heard about some hedge funders who got their convictions for insider trading reversed on appeal. Apparently, he thought that could happen for him too. I don’t want to call it a lost cause, but it’s not likely.”
“It’s a tough situation,” Alex said softly. “He believes everything can go back to the way it was. He won’t acknowledge reality.”
Will Sipher was a childhood friend of his, a man he shared some history with. Alex had gone to a state school for a year and then dropped out to buy a plane ticket to Islamabad and a bus ticket to Kabul. Will had cruised from Princeton to Wharton to Wall Street, minting money and dating showgirls all along the way. On the surface, they couldn’t have had less in common. But Will’s mother had been like a second mom to Alex after his own had died, and the fact that Alex always stayed in touch with her had kept Will firmly in his orbit. Or maybe it was the other way around, since Will had always been the one who seemed to hold the world by the tail. That had all changed in recent years: Will’s fabulous life had cratered in a public scandal. His mother had passed away that January. You’re Will’s only friend, she had told Alex the last time he saw her. Will only knows how to impress people, not how to be close to them. Even at his lowest point, Alex felt an obligation to help Will, even if his friend wasn’t the easiest person to deal with.
“It’s hard when everything in your life is turned upside down. Believe me, I know that firsthand.” CJ glanced at his watch. “This Diana person you met . . . is there any way you can track her down?”
“I can try. You think she’s important?”
CJ shot him a curious, sidelong look. “Emily takes off, and a couple days later you’ve got a strange woman in your apartment who claims Emily gave her a key?” He shook his head. “I’m not going to pretend I know what’s going on, but there’s no way I’d write that off as a coincidence.”
Alex opened his mouth to answer, but there was a screech of tires from Second Avenue and the sound of metal crunching against metal. A woman screamed. Every synapse in Alex’s brain was suddenly on fire, all of them transmitting the same message: run. He grabbed CJ’s arm and pulled him off the flagstone and behind a tree.
“What are you doing?” CJ asked, clearly confused.
Alex froze, suddenly remembering where he was: not a war zone, just noisy Midtown. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, except for you trying to dislocate my shoulder.”
Alex let go immediately. “I’m sorry.”
There was a siren in the distance. “That sounded like a car accident on Second Avenue,” CJ said. “What did you think it was?”
“I don’t know.” Alex could feel his face flush red. What the hell was wrong with him? First the snap’n pops had thrown him into a fugue state; now the sound of a fender bender was shooting him straight into panic.
“Be honest with me,” CJ said. “Are you having PTSD episodes again?”
“I’m okay,” Alex said slowly. “But since Emily left, it’s been creeping back.” He thought of himself like the wreckage of a bombed-out building; Emily was the supporting beam, and with her gone, he was close to collapse.
“You need to get some help,” CJ said. “Can you talk to your doctor?”
“I’ve got a photography class to teach right now,” Alex said. “I’ll be fine.”
“If you don’t call, I will.”
“Fine, I’ll call,” Alex lied. “But I need to get going. You’ll let me know if you hear from Emily, won’t you?”
“I’m not kidding. PTSD led you to a really dark place before. You need to get help.”
“I don’t really care what happens to me,” Alex said. “I’m worried about Emily.”
“You can’t help her if you’re crashing,” CJ said. “You know that, right? Tell me something—are you having blackouts again?”
That stopped Alex in his tracks, but only for a moment. “Blackouts?” He’d never told CJ about them, which meant Emily had. She was the only one who could have. “I don’t know what you mean. Sorry, I can’t be late for my class.” He raced out of the garden and toward the street, aware CJ’s eyes were on his back.
CHAPTER 9
SHERYN
“Emily’s not at work. She’s not at home. The only witness we have so far last saw her three days ago,” Rafael said. “This doesn’t look good.”
“Nor does it smell good.” Sheryn turned in a circle, taking in a 360-degree view of the living room. She’d banished the creepy superintendent from the apartment and locked the front door. She hadn’t liked Bobby Costa back when she was investigating the Stanton case, and her opinion of him wasn’t improving. More than that, she wanted the luxury of time to take in what Traynor and Teare’s life together looked like.
“That’s from the dog,” Rafael said. “It’s why I’m more of a cat person myself.”
Sheryn knelt to stroke Sid’s head. “Don’t listen to him, boy. He’s new, and I haven’t broken him in yet.”
“Ha ha. Where do you think Emily Teare is?”
“I’ve got a couple of possibilities in mind. Of course, maybe she ran off. She could be in Barbados right now.”
“Her toothbrush is still in the bathroom.”
“Doesn’t mean a thing,” Sheryn said. “I keep a second toothbrush in my travel case.”
“Yeah, I do too. Okay, you think she just took off?”
“That’s what the note would lead you to believe,” Sheryn said, giving Sid a final pat and standing up. “It’s straightforward, right? ‘Alex, I can’t live like this anymore. I’m going away for a few days. When I get back, I’ll pack up my things. Please don’t try to contact me. I don’t want to talk to you.’” Sheryn gave her partner a long look. “What does that sound like
to you?”
“She’s had it with him.”
“Okay, sure, on the surface. Nothing else?”
“You really like asking questions, don’t you? Questions you already have the answer to. I’m going to call you Socrates from now on.”
Sheryn knew he had a point. She and her old partner, Sandy, had had a rhythm in their conversations that was hard to replace. She realized it wasn’t fair to expect it from anyone else, but she missed it.
“What I’m trying to say is this. Maybe it is a legit Dear John letter,” Sheryn said. “But what strikes me as strange is that it’s all typed up. There’s not even a signature. I know plenty of people don’t handwrite notes anymore, but is there something sketchy about this?”
Rafael came over to stand beside her. Sid made it difficult; the dog was sniffing at a section of the rug and wouldn’t go away. “Now that you mention it, it seems kind of weird.”
“If Alex Traynor wanted to write a note pretending Emily went away, it would look a lot like this.”
“What’s your theory?”
“Which would you like to hear first?” Sheryn asked. “The dark one, or the even darker one?”
“You haven’t known me for long, but the even darker one, obviously.”
“They have the same starting point, which is this: Emily Teare lied for her boyfriend. Her statement is literally the main thing that kept Alex Traynor from being charged with Cori Stanton’s death. So, for the past year, Dr. Teare has been living with a man she knows is a killer. Maybe she’s been justifying things to herself. You know, that because Alex Traynor was high as a kite when he pushed Cori Stanton off the building, it was really the drugs that did it, not the man, if that makes sense. We see the excuses people make all the time. There’s some kind of mental gymnastics she’s doing to keep her with him.”
“I like how you’re so formal when you talk about perps and victims,” Rafael said. “It’s weird, but kind of nice.”
“It’s one of those things I learned from Sandy,” Sheryn said. “It reminds you that they’re people. Anyway, I was winding up to say that it sounds to me like there was a straw that broke the camel’s back.”
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