One Small Sacrifice

by Hilary Davidson

  She swallowed hard. She had known that Cori Stanton used plenty of drugs; more than that, she was a dealer. Her friends had talked about her taste for angel dust and coke. The last dose of heroin Cori sold to Alex had contained ketamine, and seeing the word spelled out made Sheryn think of every wrong turn she’d made in that investigation. Mixed in with the guilt was another realization. She hurried up the stairs. “Where did Cori ride?”

  “She took lessons at the Suffolk Equestrian Club in the summer and year-round at the Babylon Riding Center.”

  “Those sound fancy.”

  “Oh, they are. Only the best was ever good enough for Cori. Not that she appreciated it.” The receptionist dabbed her eyes.

  “Ah.” That crystallized an idea in Sheryn’s brain: all of this was about Cori. The fact that Emily’s car had been found at Woodlawn Cemetery was no accident. Everything fit a pattern once she started to see it clearly. But there was no way Stanton could quietly stash anyone at a ritzy riding club. The man had been willing to go to crazy extremes, but he wasn’t a magician. “Were there ever any smaller places where she rode? Not a club, but maybe a farm?”

  “There was the farm where she boarded her horse,” the receptionist added. “But it doesn’t have horses anymore. One of the owners died last year. His widow was going to sell the place off.”

  “Who did she sell it to?”

  “I don’t know. I only heard about it because Kevin was looking at buying the place.”

  “Did he?”

  “I’m not sure. He stopped mentioning it a few months back.”

  “I’m going to need the address,” Sheryn said. “Can you write it down for me?”

  CHAPTER 53

  EMILY

  When she wasn’t completely delirious, Emily knew she was closer to death than she was to life. But she wasn’t ready to die. As she lay on the floor of her cage, she knew as a doctor what was happening to her body. The muscles she’d worked too hard to build were being consumed by her own system in cannibalistic desperation. Her mouth tasted like something had died inside. The strangest thing was that she wasn’t even hungry anymore.

  Her dreams had radically altered as well. As she slid in and out of consciousness, she occasionally found her parents hovering over her, concerned looks on their faces. It was as if she were a kid again, like the time her family had gone to Bolivia to build a school and she’d come down with typhoid. For some stretches of time, she actually believed that she was in South America. The basement wasn’t that different from the dark hut she’d been in for the first couple of days of her illness, before it was clear how serious it was and she had been evacuated to a hospital in La Paz. She’d thought she was going to die that time; her fear had been the product of an overactive teenage imagination. It didn’t seem dramatic anymore: she was going to die on that dirt floor.

  Now that her parents seemed to be in the cell with her, she’d stopped dreaming about their accident. That had been replaced by an image of herself, hurrying along a street in Hell’s Kitchen. She was going to save Alex; she had to keep him from killing himself. But as she rushed along, a body slammed into the sidewalk in front of her. That was Cori Stanton, her pretty yet malicious face giving Emily a knowing wink. You wanted me dead, Cori said. It’s your lucky day.

  It was enough to make Emily scream and jolt awake. That wasn’t how it happened, she thought. Cori had landed on the street, and Emily had been almost sixty feet away from her body. She had run to her, given her chest compressions, and tried to keep her alive, but it had been no use.

  Be honest, Cori’s voice whispered to Emily in the dark. You would have been horrified if I’d lived.

  That was true, Emily acknowledged. But she’d also been aghast at Cori’s death. It wasn’t as if the woman had been a romantic rival who could be vanquished; she was a parasite who encouraged Alex’s worst impulses.

  Thoughts of Alex haunted her too. It was awful, knowing he’d learn the truth about her from other people. She’d thought she was protecting him, but now she only saw herself as a coward. I’ve never met anyone so intent on helping people as you. You’re fearless, Alex had told her when he’d proposed. But he’d been wrong about that; she was afraid of so many things. Emily felt guilty, replaying the moment in her mind.

  There are so many reasons I love you, Alex had said. And so many reasons I want to marry you.

  Marry me? She had been genuinely astonished at that moment.

  Too traditional?

  Can I wear jeans to the wedding?

  I was thinking barefoot on a beach.

  If she hadn’t been so dehydrated, she might have cried at that. She wanted to tell him the truth, all of it, but she would never have the chance.

  When she heard the door creak open, she knew it was over. She’d thought she might die of thirst, but he was back to finish the job. She didn’t have the strength to even lift her head, let alone her hand. She was going to die here, cold and alone, and no one would ever know.

  A bright light shone in her eyes. She’d gotten so used to the darkness, she couldn’t stand it. She shut her eyes, and a scratchy noise escaped from her throat.

  “She’s down here!”

  It was a woman’s voice, resonant and powerful. Emily squinted at the light. Whoever was holding the light shifted it to the side so it was no longer directly in Emily’s eyes. She stared at the woman on the other side of the cage as if she were a vision.

  “I’m Detective Sheryn Sterling,” the woman said, kneeling in front of the bars. “Take my hand. I promise you’re safe now.”

  FRIDAY

  CHAPTER 54

  ALEX

  When Alex was finally allowed to see Emily, it almost broke his heart. She was propped up in a hospital bed like a doll, with an IV in one arm and bandages on her other arm and head. “Emily,” he said, but the word broke as it crossed his lips.

  She gave him a small smile. Her lips were cracked and shiny with Vaseline. It looked like it hurt to move them.

  Alex moved closer, gingerly leaning over to kiss her forehead. “How are you feeling?”

  “Like death, but not warmed over,” Emily croaked; her voice didn’t sound like her at all. “How are you even standing?”

  “Everyone keeps telling me how lucky I am,” Alex said. “I fell off a building and broke a few ribs. What are the odds of that?”

  Emily smiled at him, but it looked more like a grimace. She was obviously in pain.

  “If you don’t want to talk, I can be quiet,” Alex offered.

  “No,” Emily said decisively. “It was a nightmare, being in a dark hole with no one to talk to. Now I don’t want to stop. The detective and I were already talking.”

  “The detective?”

  “Hey, Alex.”

  Alex turned and saw Detective Sterling standing in the corner. “Hi.” He couldn’t have felt more awkward. The last time he’d seen her, he was strapped to a gurney at Bellevue.

  “I’m sorry to spoil your reunion, being here,” she said. “But Emily’s badly dehydrated, and the doctors don’t want her talking too much, so I thought she could tell us her story one time, together.”

  “That’s fine with me,” Emily said.

  “I’ll be asking some questions,” the detective said. “I know you’ll have some, too, Alex. I’ve also been gathering some information to help us piece this together. I’ll try to keep this as brief as possible. Dr. Teare, are you ready to begin?”

  Emily nodded.

  “I’m going to tell you what we know, or what we think we know, and you can set me straight,” Sheryn said. “You went out jogging in Central Park last Friday night, as you always do. While you were in the park, you were attacked.”

  “Yes. When I was running through the Ramble, I heard a snap, and something hit me in the back. I don’t know what it was, but it was like I’d been shot.”

  “Kevin Stanton shot you with a tranquilizer dart, maybe two,” Sheryn said.

  “It happened so quic
kly. One moment, I was running. Then I hit the ground. It knocked me out fast. I blacked out for hours.”

  “Stanton was used to transporting animals,” Sheryn said. “We think he wheeled you over to his van. It’s not impossible that he carried you. He was a big man. His accomplice, Magda Zimmermann, denies any part in this. When we questioned her, she maintained that all she did was wait in the van. However, she admits to letting herself into your apartment with a key given to her by Stanton. She left a fake note for Alex—written by Stanton—along with your engagement ring. She also took your laptop and your car keys. Tell us what you remember next, Dr. Teare.”

  “When I woke up, I was lying on a dirt floor,” Emily said. “There was a bottle of water, and I drank the whole thing. I was so thirsty. Then I passed out. I think there was something in it to drug me.”

  “The doctors said there are several different tranquilizers in your system,” Sheryn said. “Stanton had you on knockout drugs the whole time.”

  “It was very Alice in Wonderland,” Emily said softly. “I was in pain, and I felt weak. It was hard to see clearly in that cell, but my arms were bruised. I could smell blood on me, and I knew I had a concussion.”

  “We found your brother’s car parked outside Woodlawn Cemetery in the Bronx,” Sheryn said. “The trunk had your blood in it. We believe Stanton set that up—possibly with Magda’s help, though she’s denying it. She admits that Stanton thought it would help frame Alex. That seems to have been his goal all along. He wanted the police to believe Alex was responsible for your disappearance.”

  “No wonder I was so light headed,” Emily said. “He took blood from me while I was unconscious.”

  “Did he ever speak to you?”

  “Never. I didn’t see him come in. I would pass out, and there would be a protein bar and water when I woke up,” Emily said. “I realized if I was ever going to get out of there that I couldn’t drink the water. I poured it into the dirt. Then I pretended to pass out again. After a long, long time, he came in. I grabbed him when he came close to the bars, but I was too weak to hurt him. He was armed with a Taser.”

  “It was a cattle prod,” Sheryn said. “Even worse. I’d say you did well.”

  “He never said a word?” Alex ventured. “When he attacked me on the roof, he wouldn’t stop talking.”

  “Maybe he had a thought about releasing Emily at some point,” Sheryn suggested. “That could be why he didn’t want her to see or hear him. But we’ll probably never know.”

  “He wanted to hurt her because of me,” Alex said. “Was there anything he didn’t blame me for?”

  “I doubt it. He poisoned other people against you too. He had Magda, his receptionist girlfriend from the clinic downtown, pretend to be Emily. She used your credit cards in Connecticut, Massachusetts, and Vermont. She cracked when we caught her, though, especially when she found out Stanton was dead. He wanted her to draw us away from the city. I guess he thought that would keep us from finding you.”

  “From finding me alive,” Emily whispered.

  They were all quiet for a moment. “I should let the two of you have some time together,” Sheryn said. “Alex, could we speak in private for a minute?”

  Alex followed Sheryn into the hallway. “How’s your partner doing?”

  “Rafael’s tough as old boots,” she said. “They’re releasing him from the hospital today, heaven help us all. I’m driving him into the city. He’s cranky, but he’s fine.”

  “I’m glad. Are you okay?” He gestured at her left hand, which had a white bandage wrapped around the palm.

  “I’m fine. I manage to get into trouble even at my desk,” she said. “I wanted to let you know that the investigation isn’t quite wrapped up yet. It will be ongoing for a few more days, at least,” Sheryn said.

  “It sounded in there like you know exactly what happened.”

  “With Stanton dead, there are going to be some things we’ll never be certain of,” she answered. “And there are some other loose ends. I’ll be in touch with you a fair bit as we piece it all together.”

  “Whatever you need.”

  “I also wanted to ask how you’re doing,” she said. “You’ve been through the wringer.”

  “This sounds crazy, but clearer on a lot of things.” Alex paused. PTSD was such a private circle of hell, and he felt uncomfortable talking about it. “This will sound terrible, but it’s a relief to know that there was a reason for my paranoia. Stanton was out to get me, and Emily. All those feelings I had . . . they weren’t just from PTSD.”

  “That doesn’t sound wrong to me.”

  “In the past week, I’ve been out among crowds more than I have in six months. It’s still not easy, but I think it might be getting less awful.”

  “I guess your students will miss their workshop tonight.”

  “No.” Alex shook his head vehemently. “It’s not like the hospital will let me stay here with Emily. We’re meeting in Kew Gardens. There might be a break-in involved.”

  Sheryn raised an eyebrow. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that part.” He knew she was only teasing him, but his heart pounded in his chest when she reached into her pocket and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. She slid it through her fingers a couple of times before holding it out to Alex. He was afraid to take it, wary that their détente was suddenly over.

  “I wanted to give you this,” she said. “We never had occasion to talk about this, but my mother’s a therapist. Not that I’m suggesting you see her—because, hoo boy, don’t get me started—but I asked her for some information. About counselors and PTSD and treatment and, well, you know.”

  Alex had never known Sheryn to ramble. She was the strong, silent type; there was plenty she had in common with his friend Maclean. He took the page from her and unfolded it. There was a lot of information there, neatly typed out in black and white, but it blurred in front of his eyes. “I appreciate this, but I’m getting everything under control.”

  “No, you’re not. When things get better, you can tell yourself that, but it’s an illusion.”

  Alex shook his head. “I don’t think I’m the type to go into therapy.”

  “Why not?” Sheryn asked.

  He stared at her, unsettled by the question. “I hate talking about what happened,” he admitted. “It brings it all back. It makes it worse.”

  “It doesn’t go away because you ignore it.”

  “No, but it’s dredging up memories I’d rather stay buried.”

  Sheryn tapped the toe of her shiny black boot against the wall a couple of times, as if there were a tiny pebble inside that she wanted to dislodge. “You know, you remind me of my father in some ways.”

  Something in her tone made Alex examine her more closely. Her expression was neutral, but her dark eyes were oddly glossy. Not teary, but not far off from being that way.

  “He served in the army,” Sheryn said. “It was a proud family tradition. But then he was discharged, and we were told it was a heart problem, but that really wasn’t it at all. He was paranoid, just full of conspiracy theories. He went into attack mode at the tiniest provocation. He’d walk around the house at night like he was guarding it. He was always a heartbeat away from full panic.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Alex said.

  “It got really bad,” she continued. “Bad enough that my mother made him leave. They didn’t divorce, but she was scared. And with good reason. He ended up killing a fellow veteran, a man who’d given him a job. Then he turned his gun on himself.”

  Alex tried to speak, but he couldn’t find any words.

  “I was a teenager, so I didn’t understand everything going on,” she added. “But I knew something was wrong, and all I did was pretend I didn’t.”

  He started to answer, but she put up her injured hand. “I’m not done yet,” she said. “That’s why I became a cop. I don’t let things go. I’m not letting you go. You’re getting the help you need this time.”

  The paper was
still in his hand, and he blinked at it as it came into focus. It was a bad sign, he knew, that even thinking about therapy made him so anxious. That could be taken as a clue to how much he actually needed it. “You’re impossible to argue with.”

  “My husband calls me relentless,” Sheryn said. “I like to take that as a compliment.”

  “I don’t even know how to thank you.”

  She took a breath. “I owe you an apology, Alex. I went into this assuming the worst about you, and I was wrong to do that.”

  “I understand why,” Alex said. “I don’t blame you. Plus, you found Emily. She’s only alive because of you.”

  “She’s alive because of what you did too,” Sheryn answered. “I didn’t know what Stanton was, until it was too late.” She glanced at her watch. “I should get going. Take good care of your girl.”

  Alex smiled. “I guess there’s a first time for everything. She’s always been the one who took care of me.”

  Sheryn gave him a long, searching look. “You’re tougher than you think,” she said. “I have the feeling she’s going to need you more than you realize.” Before he could ask her what she meant, she turned away, hurrying down the corridor and vanishing around a corner.

  WEDNESDAY

  CHAPTER 55

  SHERYN

  Sheryn waited until Emily Teare was discharged from the hospital before she went to see her again. A small part of her felt guilty while she watched the building, waiting for Alex to come out with Sid bounding along on his red leash. They walked up a block, and when Sheryn was sure they were well on their way to DeWitt Clinton Park, she headed upstairs.

  When Emily Teare answered the door, she was wearing a long green silk robe. “I’m sorry to bother you, but we need to talk,” Sheryn said.