Alex had reflexively jolted away. What are you doing?
You know you want to. Don’t pretend you’ve never thought about it. About us.
Alex had been shocked. Cori was a flirt, but she’d never propositioned him. You’ve got to be kidding. Absolutely not.
Why not?
You’re my friend. And I’m in love with Emily.
The way Cori had stared daggers at him still made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. You’re going to kill yourself, but you’re still going to be faithful to your girlfriend? She’d flown at him in a rage, slapping and clawing at his face. Finally, she’d stormed out of the apartment again. Alex had taken Sid—who’d been unusually quiet while all of this was going on—over to Mrs. DiGregorio’s. Then he’d thought about what to say to Emily. He hadn’t wanted to kill himself without a word, but he knew he’d lose his nerve if she responded. In the end, all he could come up with was this: I love you with every last piece of my heart. Goodbye. When Cori had returned a few minutes later, Alex had insisted that they go up to the roof.
I want to see the stars when I die, he’d said. Cori hadn’t argued with that.
He squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to remember anything else from that terrible night. He knew he’d taken an insane quantity of drugs. He was lucky to have survived. The last image he could recall was of the stars in the night sky. In New York, they were hard to see, but that night, the heavens had seemed alive. He’d wanted to be alone to die, but Cori had been ranting about something. He’d stared at the stars, and the world had slipped away. In his memory, Cori’s words had been lost, but something had come back to him under the weight of Detective Sterling’s baleful glare that afternoon.
Jump, he heard Cori say. Jump. Jump. Jump.
He couldn’t tell if she’d repeated the word, or if it was simply stuck in his head like a broken record. Jump. He’d never considered diving off the building; maybe it was cowardly, but exiting the world on a cloud that deadened all pain was his fantasy. Jump. That was Cori’s idea; she wanted to make a literal splash on her way out.
Jump.
“Stop it,” he said aloud to the empty graveyard. He pushed the memory away. It was unnerving, having flat, dark patches of cold silence in his memory, but it was preferable to the alternative. He didn’t want to think about Cori telling him to jump; if she hadn’t spiked his heroin with ketamine, he wouldn’t have been able to stand in the first place. If there was a moment he wanted to hold on to, it was emerging from the darkness to see Emily’s face hovering above his. He’d caught glimpses of her that long night: while an EMT brought him out of his opioid coma with naloxone, at the police station, at the hospital. He’d never expected to see Emily again; at first, he’d thought she was an angel. When he’d finally woken up fully at the hospital, it had been a shock to discover that his mind and body were still tethered together. More than that, he was alive, but Cori was dead. He didn’t understand it. He didn’t think he ever would.
The ringing of his phone brought him back to where he was. He almost didn’t answer, because Will was about the last person he wanted to speak with just then.
“Did you send your cop buddies after me?” Will demanded.
“What are you talking about?”
“Don’t worry; I got rid of them,” Will said. “I just want to know how you’re involved.”
“I didn’t send anyone after you,” Alex said.
There was a long silence on the other end of the line. “We’ve known each other a long time, so I think you know when I’m telling the unvarnished truth,” Will said. “Do not sic the cops on me. I can promise you that won’t be good for Emily.”
“What are you talking about? Do you know where she is?”
“No,” Will said. “But I know her better than you think. Whatever you say to the police, leave me out of it.”
CHAPTER 32
SHERYN
Rafael insisted on driving Sheryn back to the precinct, where her car was parked. They were mostly quiet on the drive in, except when Rafael cursed out the traffic. “You want to go for plan B?” he asked her as they inched along the West Side Highway.
“Remind me what that is?”
“Let’s give Christopher Lee a shout.”
“Why not?” Sheryn said. “What else can go wrong tonight?”
Rafael parked on East Twenty-Second Street, and they walked the rest of the way. Christopher Lee lived in a high-rise building that Sheryn was sure could be safely described as brutalist, a utilitarian concrete slab grudgingly dotted with windows. Inside, though, was oddly pleasing, with soft light and antique furniture and fresh flowers. Sheryn showed the doorman her badge, and they headed up.
When the door to apartment 18C opened, Sheryn stared at the man, struggling to keep her face neutral instead of revealing her surprise. She recognized his face, but that only made her wonder if she’d turned up at the wrong door. “CJ Leeward?” she said finally.
“Detective Sterling,” Leeward answered. “I hope there’s a good reason you’re on my doorstep at this hour.”
“We’re looking for Christopher Lee,” Rafael stated flatly.
“You didn’t meet Mr. Leeward yesterday,” Sheryn said, “but you heard his voice. We were in an interview room together yesterday. This is Alex Traynor’s lawyer. A.k.a. Christopher Lee, I guess.”
“Wait. What?” For the first time, she saw Rafael’s composure slip. His mouth opened in surprise, then closed again. The whites of his eyes stood out against his olive skin. But what was much more curious to her was the lawyer’s reaction: he shrank back, eyeing them warily.
“You know what you say about not believing in coincidences?” Rafael asked her. “I don’t believe in them either.” He smiled at the lawyer. “Which do you prefer, Christopher or CJ?”
“What is it you want, Detectives?” Leeward asked, but his attitude had deflated. “Because we’re in the middle of a family dinner.”
“We didn’t mean to barge in on you, Mr. Lee, but . . .”
“I changed my name when I got married eight years ago. It’s Leeward now.”
There were footsteps in the background, coming closer. “Is everything okay?” The man asking the question was in his late thirties, roughly the same age as the lawyer, but with blond hair a little on the long side and sun-kissed golden skin. He was casually dressed in a T-shirt and yoga pants, and he was barefoot.
“It’s fine, Jayson,” CJ said. “I’ll handle this. Give me a few minutes.”
Jayson nodded politely at the detectives and moved out of view. Sheryn could hear giggling in the background; that had to be the couple’s kids.
“I’ll walk outside with you,” CJ said. “No questions until then.”
The ride down in the elevator was a silent one. “There’s a small park on Second Avenue at Twenty-First. It’s practically across the street,” CJ said. “Let’s head over there.”
“Are your neighbors aware that you changed your name?” Sheryn asked.
“I’ve been public about that. There was a piece in the Times about men who change their names when they marry, and I was quoted in it.”
“Did they also mention that you were married before?” Rafael asked.
They were at the park now. Aside from a couple of elderly people, it was empty.
“That was something Emily and I decided to keep between us,” CJ said. “We were married for a very short time, just a few months, while we were in school. We’ve been best friends since we were nineteen years old, but anything romantic between us . . .” He paused and stared into the distance. “Well, that ended a long time ago.”
“Your partner doesn’t know?” Sheryn asked.
“My husband,” CJ corrected her. “No, Jayson has no idea.”
“What about Alex Traynor?” Rafael asked.
“I don’t believe Emily has told him either. If she has, neither of them said anything to me.” CJ watched each of them in turn. “A lot of people feel threatened by a
friendship with an ex. And our circumstances are somewhat different than most.”
“The circumstances are none of our business,” Sheryn said. “Except as far as they pertain to Emily Teare’s disappearance. When’s the last time you spoke to her?”
“It’s been a couple of weeks,” CJ admitted. “We send each other links to articles all the time. But we had lunch a couple of weeks ago. That’s the last time we talked.”
“Did she say anything about heading out of town?” Rafael asked.
“Nothing.”
“What about Alex Traynor. Did she talk about him?”
“Yes. She was starting to think about their honeymoon,” CJ said. “Emily is a very informal person in many ways. I don’t think she was prepared to stress about a wedding, but she and Alex both love to travel, and she wanted the honeymoon to be special. She was thinking of Madagascar, because neither of them had been there.”
“We found Emily’s passport in her apartment, so she definitely didn’t leave the country,” Rafael said.
“Alex told me Emily’s involved in helping people who may not be in the US legally,” Sheryn said. “What do you know about that?”
“Emily doesn’t ask to see someone’s visa before she treats them. There’s nothing illegal in what she’s doing.”
“Mr. Leeward, the last thing I’m looking to do is build a case against Dr. Teare for helping folks,” Sheryn said. “I only care about what she’s involved in insofar as it relates to her disappearance.”
“Sorry. It’s a reflex,” CJ said. “I don’t know a lot of details. There used to be a storefront clinic in Corona, Queens, that she worked out of, but it’s gone now. I think now there’s been a place in New Jersey.”
“She told you that?”
“No, I only found out because she was on a PATH train in the middle of that crazy shutdown in August. Remember that day the power was off for hours? She texted me because we were supposed to meet. I asked what she was doing out there, and she said it was work. Later, she didn’t want to speak about it at all.”
“Did that seem odd to you?” Rafael asked.
“Not really. Emily never boasted about her charity work.”
“Was there anything unusual going on with Emily?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Can you describe her relationship with Will Sipher?”
The taciturn CJ was suddenly animated. “Alex’s friend? Is he involved in Emily’s disappearance somehow?”
“We’re still gathering information. But it’s interesting that you’d ask that question. You have a reason to be suspicious of him?”
“It bothered me that Emily suddenly seemed interested in Will Sipher’s welfare,” CJ admitted. “She’d never liked him, but she tolerated him because of Alex’s connection to his family.”
“How was Emily involved?”
“She asked me about the prospects of overturning Will’s conviction. I told her that was a dead duck with a lead tail. There were some hedge-fund portfolio managers who had their cases overturned on a technicality, but the ruling wouldn’t have applied in Will’s case.” CJ paused. “The odd thing was that Emily brought it up several times. I assumed she’d taken pity on the man. I can’t explain it otherwise.”
“Is there any chance Emily could be romantically involved with Will Sipher?”
CJ laughed. “Absolutely not,” he said. “She is very much in love with Alex. And whenever Sipher comes up . . . well, there might be some pity, but there’s definitely dislike. Not love, that’s for sure. From what she’s said, that guy’s a drugged-up mess.”
“But a year ago, couldn’t you have said roughly the same thing about Alex Traynor?” Sheryn’s voice was soft.
CJ regarded her uneasily. “I suppose you could have. But Alex blames himself when things go wrong. Will Sipher blames everyone else.” He cleared his throat. “I wish I could be more of a help, but I should get back to my family.”
Sheryn regarded him thoughtfully. “You’re holding something back. What is it?”
CJ’s face was expressionless, as if he were in a championship round of poker. “I’m sorry, Detective, but you’re mistaken. Good night.”
The detectives watched him as he walked away.
“What do you think?” Rafael asked.
“He’s lying,” Sheryn answered.
“Really? Because I think he was being as truthful as a lawyer can manage. Which isn’t saying much.”
“He was just a little too controlled at the end,” Sheryn mused. “There’s definitely something he doesn’t want to tell us.”
CHAPTER 33
BOBBY
It had been a hell of a day. There was no upside to having cops in the building—that was for sure. Bobby had learned to always be cautious about when he let himself into Emily Teare’s apartment—that loser Alex was always hanging around like a bad smell, and there was also his stupid dog to contend with. Friday evenings were the best, because Emily always went running, Alex taught a class downtown, and they left the dog with a neighbor. Bobby could unlock the door, step inside what felt like another world, and go through Emily’s things for a solid hour, at least. That soft, soft silk that smelled so good it was almost like skin.
Over the years, Bobby had been obsessed with a few different ladies in his buildings. Before Emily, there had been a tenant named Michelle Turlock whom he’d fallen for. Michelle was a brunette with delicate features who smelled better than any lady he’d ever encountered. She traveled a lot, too, so she was like a dream tenant. She also had the sexiest lingerie, and there were mounds of it. He always wondered if that chick had a secret silkworm farm spinning thread just for her. He used to pocket a lacy underthing or two, but Michelle had eventually noticed that and contacted the police because she believed she had a stalker. That whole episode still haunted Bobby, because he’d come within a hair’s breadth of being found out and arrested.
It had made him so much more careful with Emily. He never took anything from her place, never dared.
But having cops in the building was a big problem. It wasn’t like Bobby was into anything seriously illegal, but there were a few things cops could bust him for. He didn’t need the hassle. While they were doing their thing upstairs—which took frigging hours, for crying out loud—Bobby had been relegated to his cave. One of the perks of being the superintendent was having access to parts of buildings nobody else could set foot in. Best of all were the ones tenants didn’t even know about. Bobby had his own little den set up in the basement, in a room behind the boiler. He was smoking his second blunt of the day and fiddling with his phone when a hand dropped on his shoulder. Bobby jumped out of his chair, shouting.
“Sorry,” Alex Traynor said. “I guess you weren’t expecting anyone.”
“What the fuck, man?” Bobby wailed. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”
“I couldn’t find you upstairs. I need to ask you a couple questions.”
Alex was a big guy with one of those stone-cold faces that never betrayed what he was thinking. Sometimes he made hairs stand up at the base of Bobby’s neck. It wasn’t anything the guy had done, exactly. There was just something dark in the air around him, like a fog swirling around a grim reaper.
“You shouldn’t even be down here. It’s against the rules,” Bobby said.
“This building has rules?” Alex asked. “That’s a new one to me. What’s this, the reefer room?”
There it was again, Bobby thought, feeling the heebie-jeebies from this guy. Something wasn’t right inside his head. He held out the blunt. “You want?” Trust pot to soothe the savage beast.
But Alex shook his head. “I need to talk to you about Emily.”
“What about her?”
“The cops told me you were the last person to see her.”
“I don’t know about that, man. But I saw her Friday night.”
“Tell me about it.”
Bobby racked his brain, recalling the details he’d given to the
cops. “It was on the stairs. She was coming back from her run. We said hi. That was it.”
“What time was it?”
“Maybe a little after eight.” Bobby gave a shrug. “Could’ve been five, ten after, maybe.”
“Did she seem . . . ?” Alex let the question trail off, as if he realized how hopeless it would be to ask about Emily’s mood or demeanor. “What was she wearing?”
“Running gear. Black leggings, black hoodie. She had it pulled up.”
Alex frowned. “She had a hoodie on?”
Bobby nodded. “Yeah. It was pulled up. I remember thinking she looked kind of like a turtle in it.”
“But Emily’s always overheated,” Alex said. “She takes her jacket off even when she runs in winter. And it was warm on Friday.”
That was true, Bobby realized. It had been unusually balmy on Friday. And he usually saw Emily come back after exercising with her hoodie tied around her waist. “That’s weird,” Bobby muttered.
“Are you one hundred percent sure it was Emily?”
“Definitely,” Bobby said, but he was turning it over in his mind. The truth was he hadn’t passed Emily on the stairs; that was something he’d made up for the police. He’d been inside Emily’s apartment, treating himself to a luxurious date with her underthings. He’d had a stressful week, after all. When Emily had come back to the apartment that night, he’d thought he was busted. She never returned from a run that early. Bobby had been in her bedroom when the front door opened, and he’d frozen in shock behind the closet door. He could see Emily in the edge of a mirror, leaving a piece of paper on the coffee table and grabbing a laptop. Clad in black, she moved like a ninja. He heard the clatter of keys in the bowl by the front door. The funny thing, now that he considered it, was that she had her hood up the whole time. He’d never really gotten a look at her face.
“I mean, it all happened so fast,” Bobby backpedaled.
“Did she actually speak to you?”
“I thought she said hi,” Bobby said. “She definitely waved at me.” He thought about it some more. “You know, it’s weird.”
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