By all objective standards, the hotel in Queens where Grace had been staying was a dump—dirty, cramped, with depressing mustard-colored walls and linoleum floors. But Grace had come to enjoy the smells of fried onions wafting up from the hot-dog stand outside her window, and the ridiculous arguments between the couple across the hall. It made her feel less alone. As if she were part of something.
Getting dressed this morning, preparing for her meeting with Davey, she actually thought, I’ll be sorry to leave here. But she knew she couldn’t stay. For one thing, it wasn’t safe. She had to keep moving. More important, the time had come to begin her mission. Armed with Davey’s information, she could at last begin her journey. Today, her vengeance would take flight.
She had dressed simply for their rendezvous. Jeans, sneakers, a black polo-neck sweater and a down jacket, her beanie hat pulled low over her newly darkened hair. The jeans already felt a little tighter on the waist than they had in Richardsville. Grace was gaining weight, a side effect of her newfound doughnut addiction. Swallowing the dregs of her coffee, she looked at her watch. Eleven o’clock.
She headed for the subway.
MITCH CONNORS HADN’T SLEPT. THE PLAN was simple. Davey had arranged to meet Grace at noon exactly, in front of Toys “R” Us on Times Square. At that time of day the New York landmark should be crawling with shoppers looking for a bargain in the winter sales, as well as the usual backpack-laden hordes of tourists. Mitch had positioned two men behind Davey, inside the store, another two at the entrance to the subway and six more scattered throughout the crowd. All ten would be in plainclothes, wired and armed. Mitch wasn’t expecting any trouble, but after the way Grace had dealt with that scumbag Tommy Burns, he wasn’t taking any chances. As soon as Davey saw Grace in the crowd, he would use his hidden mike to alert the cops, who would close in around her. Once she reached Davey and shook his hand, that was the signal to move in and grab her. Easy.
Mitch himself would be watching the proceedings from the Paramount Hotel. His face had been all over the news for weeks. If Grace saw him, she’d know something was up.
Davey Buccola lit another cigarette. Eleven forty-five. Time to go downstairs. Davey looked on in alarm as one of the cops checked his gun before slipping it back into the holster under his jacket.
“What’s that for? You aren’t going to hurt her, are you?”
The cop looked at Davey like something he’d just scraped off of his shoe. He’d given them good information but he was a snitch. Nobody liked a snitch. “I’m sure Mrs. Brookstein would be touched by your concern. Are you ready?”
Davey nodded. Two hundred grand. My own place.
“I’m ready. Let’s go.”
TEN TO TWELVE.
“Do you see her?”
Davey Buccola stamped his feet against the cold. Resisting the urge to put his hand to his ear—he hated wires—he murmured, “Negative. Not yet.”
Times Square was even more crowded than he’d expected. Toys “R” Us was jammed. Half of New York was out of work, but people would rather starve than see their kids go without the latest Hannah Montana doll or Special Agent Oso flashlight. Sad, really, Davey reflected.
THE WOMAN OPPOSITE GRACE WAS STARING. Grace felt her stomach flip over.
“Hey.”
The train was crowded, but no one was talking. The woman’s voice rang out like a foghorn.
“Hey! I’m talking to you.”
Grace looked up. She felt the blood rush to her face. She recognizes me. Oh God. She’s going to say something. They’ll turn on me. The whole train will turn on me, they’ll rip me to shreds!
“You done with your paper?”
Paper? Grace looked down. There was a New York Post in her lap. She had no idea how it had gotten there. Wordlessly, she handed it over.
“Thanks.”
Suddenly the train jerked to a halt. The lights flickered, then went out. Everybody groaned. The lights came on again. Grace looked at her watch. Five to twelve.
“Forget it,” the man next to her said genially. “Wherever you’re going, you’re going to be late.”
A voice came over the address system. “We apologize for the inconvenience. Due to some electrical problems, we expect a short delay.”
No! Not today. Why today?
Grace took a deep breath. She couldn’t draw attention to herself by appearing jittery. Besides, it was okay. They said a short delay. Davey would wait.
AS HE STARED OUT OF THE window Mitch’s heart sank.
She’s not coming.
He’d been so sure this was it. So certain. The clock on the wall taunted him. Ten after twelve. What could have gone wrong? Had Buccola had a change of heart and tipped her off? Had Grace realized she couldn’t trust him? Or maybe it was worse than that. Maybe something had happened to her. An accident. Someone had recognized her and taken the law into his own hands.
“I think I see her.”
Buccola’s voice sounded crackly in Mitch’s earpiece.
“You think? Don’t you know?”
Buccola didn’t answer.
“Well, where?” Mitch couldn’t hide his excitement.
“She just came out of the subway. I didn’t get a good look at her face. It might not be her.”
“Danny, Luca. Did you guys see anything?”
Two of Mitch’s men were right outside the subway, checking out every woman who emerged.
“Nope.”
“Nothing.”
Jesus. “What was she wearing, Davey?”
“Jeans. Dark coat. A hat…I think. Shit.”
“What?”
“I lost her.”
“You lost her? Well, was she heading toward you? Did she see you?”
“Forget it. It wasn’t her.”
GRACE DARTED OUT OF THE SUBWAY onto the street. She was late. Very late. Would Davey have waited this long? God, she hoped so. He was taking a big risk agreeing to meet her at all.
She pushed forward into the crowds, head down. The multicolored lettering of the Toys “R” Us store called to her from across the square. Grace headed toward it, scanning the throng for her friend’s familiar face.
OFFICER LUCA BONNETTI WAS DISAPPOINTED. SO much for being part of the big show. Grace Brookstein had obviously made other plans.
Still, getting paid to eye up women wasn’t the worst way to spend a morning. A cute brunette in a hurry brushed past him.
“Hey, babe. How you doin’?”
He tapped her on the ass, but she hurried on.
“What is your problem, Bonnetti?” His partner was mad. “We’re supposed to be looking for America’s most wanted, not harassing members of the public.”
“Aw, lighten up, Danny. She was cute. And in case you haven’t figured it out, Lady Brookstein ain’t coming.”
GRACE’S HEART WAS POUNDING. ASSHOLE.
After what that bastard van driver had done to her, the thought of a man touching her or even looking at her sexually made her want to scream at the top of her lungs. But she couldn’t scream. She couldn’t stop and yell at the guy to get his stinking hands off of her. She had to be invisible, to melt into the crowd.
Where the hell is Davey?
Just as she thought the words, she saw him. He was standing a few feet in front of the store. She walked toward him, smiling. Sensing her smile, Davey looked up. That’s when Grace noticed.
“IT’S HER! I SEE HER. SHE’S heading over. Jeans, dark jacket. Beanie.”
Mitch asked the cops in the square, “Have you got her?”
“Yes, sir. We see her. Closing in.”
GRACE’S MIND RACED.
He said he’d have the file with him. The evidence. Why didn’t he bring it?
Something was wrong. It wasn’t just the file. It was Davey’s face. It had guilt written all over it. Just then, two men brushed past Grace, heading toward Toys “R” Us. Some sixth sense made her slow her pace.
Cops. It’s a setup.
There was no time to think. Acting on instinct, she whipped off her hat and stuffed it into her coat pocket. A group of foreign schoolchildren was heading in the opposite direction, back toward the subway. Grace slipped in among them, another small dark fish entering the safety of the shoal.
THE MEN CLUTCHED AT THEIR EARPIECES. Up in the hotel room, Mitch Connors was yelling bloody murder.
“Where is she? WHERE IS SHE?”
“I don’t know.” Davey Buccola was confused. “She was coming right for me and then she…she disappeared.”
Mitch could have wept.
“Spread out, all of you. Keep looking. She’s in that crowd.”
He couldn’t take it any longer. He ran out of the hotel room and headed for the stairs.
FROM THE SIXTH FLOOR OF THE Paramount, Mitch had had a bird’s-eye view of the square below. Now, running outside at street level, he could barely see three feet in front of his nose. There were people everywhere, jostling their bulky shopping bags, pushing their kids’ strollers across his path.