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  “But Tanya was attacked first, not Katie. And Stacy’s just fine.”

  “Damn it.” Ellie flopped into the chair next to the table, still holding the photograph of the bathroom cabinet. “She was there, Rogan. I can feel it. Tanya Abbott was hiding inside that bathroom. And the fact that Sam Sparks saw this picture in Bandon’s courtroom has something to do with all these bodies.”

  “If Tanya Abbott’s our victim and not our bad guy, how do you explain the posts on Campus Juice?”

  She looked up to the ceiling as if the answers might be found there. “I don’t know,” she finally said.

  “Don’t tell me,” Rogan said. “We’re missing something.”

  “We’re missing something. But if even part of what I’m thinking is right, then Stacy Schecter is a link in the chain. We have to warn her. Now.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  3:10 P.M.

  Stacy’s music was cranked to ear-numbing decibel levels again. This time she was listening to Patti Smith’s cover of the Stones’ “Gimme Shelter.” Ellie had to hand it to the girl, she had excellent taste—just the kind of woman she wished her brother would date, minus the occasional penchant for prostitution.

  She knocked on the door to no avail, and then quickly shifted to a pound.

  Inside, Patti was howling. “Rape, murder, it’s just a shot away.” Ellie tried to ignore the irony and thumped harder on the door with the butt of her fist. “Stacy, it’s Detective Hatcher from the NYPD. I need to talk to you. It’s urgent.”

  Ellie felt eyes on her and turned to see a pair of tired, pale blue ones staring through a crack in the door of Apartment 2C just as the music’s volume dropped. “It’s about time you people came out here. It’s constant. At all hours. And the most horrendous noise.”

  “Mind your own business, you old—” Stacy halted in the doorway when she spotted Ellie. “Jesus Christ, I gave you an entire night already. I’m totally in the zone. Just let me do my work in peace.”

  “You really want to talk about your work out here in the hallway?” Ellie asked.

  Stacy stepped aside to make room for Ellie to pass and then closed the door behind her.

  “I know, I know. Sex for money, bad. Law-abiding life of goodness, good. The NYPD has done its soul-saving for the week. Message sent.”

  “I’m not here to lecture you, Stacy.”

  “Could’ve fooled me the other day. And I notice you’re here alone. Did your partner realize you were wasting your breath?”

  “My partner’s finishing some reports the DA’s office needed in our case against Prestige Parties. We made arrests this morning.”

  Stacy looked genuinely surprised. And impressed. “You two didn’t waste any time, did you?”

  “And we kept your name out of it, just like we promised. You went into the affidavits as a confidential informant. We found another girl who was willing to go on record. Together, it was enough. We’ve got the head of the company cooperating already. Still no sign of Tanya, though, and still a lot of theories about who might have killed Miranda.”

  “You mean Katie.”

  “I do, but you knew her as Miranda.”

  Stacy wiped a smear of yellow paint from her thumb onto her smock. “Can’t really know someone if you don’t know their name.”

  “I’ve got a couple of follow-up questions, if you can spare the time.”

  “Yeah, sure. I needed a break anyway.” She gestured to her bed and then perched herself on the corner.

  Ellie removed two photographs from her purse. One was a snapshot she had pulled from the Web archives of the New York Post’s Page Six column. It showed Sam Sparks braving the rain to enter the Metropolitan Museum of Art for the annual Costume Institute benefit. He posed for the camera on the red carpet beside event organizer and Vogue magazine editor Anna Wintour while a drenched Nick Dillon held a black umbrella over their dry heads.

  The second photograph was Judge Paul Bandon’s official head shot from the New York State Unified Court System’s Web site, complete with black robe, an American flag in the background, and a gavel in Bandon’s right hand. According to the bio beneath the picture, Bandon had served as a career prosecutor inside the Department of Justice until he’d moved to New York as special counsel to one of the country’s most elite law firms and then on to his current spot on the bench. It was indeed the perfect résumé for a federal judicial appointment. And all of it would be ruined if his relationship with Tanya Abbott were revealed.

  “Have you seen either of these men before?”

  Stacy took the printouts from her outstretched hands. She reviewed them carefully before handing them back. “No, I’m sorry.”

  “You’re sure?” Ellie said.

  “Positive. I mean, yeah, the one—Sam Sparks—obviously I’ve seen him before in the paper and stuff. But never in person. What does he have to do with any of this?”

  “We don’t know. Maybe nothing. Did Miranda ever mention he was a Prestige Parties customer?”

  Stacy stifled a chuckle. “Really? That’s awesome.”

  “I kept your name out of our case, Stacy. You need to keep the fact that I asked you about these men to yourself.”

  She waved away Ellie’s concerns. “No, it’s just funny is all. I mean, the tabloids are always hinting he swings for the other team, and turns out he’s a big old horndog. Hey, maybe now that you’ve brought Prestige Parties down, he’s in the market for a new girl.” She mimicked a Mae West primp.

  Ellie rose to leave. “Not a good idea. I said I wasn’t here to lecture you, but I did come here with a warning. These guys are poster children for rich, educated, highly distinguished men, and here I am flashing their photographs as part of a homicide investigation, Stacy. You’ve got to watch out for yourself.”

  “Always have, always will.” The hardened tone was back.

  “I mean it. If you see Sam Sparks or Tanya Abbott, you have got to steer clear of them.”

  “You think they’re in on something together?”

  “No, not together.” Ellie had neither the time nor inclination to explain the competing theories about Tanya. “I can only tell you so much, Stacy, and I’m telling you to call me immediately if you see Tanya, or either of these two men, or anything else you think I need to know about.”

  She handed the woman a business card. “Just in case you didn’t happen to hold on to the last one.”

  Stacy tried to hand the card back to her. “You made me put your number in my cell, remember?”

  “Last time I checked, numbers could be deleted.”

  “Whatever. Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

  As Ellie made her way through the tiny living area, cramped with painting supplies and easels, she noticed a canvas still gleaming with wet oil. She recognized the tortured expression on Katie Battle’s face.

  “This is really amazing work.”

  Stacy said nothing but nodded her appreciation.

  “I guess there’s a part of you that’s not brushing this off so easily after all.”

  She didn’t let the door hit her on the way out.

  The trip to Union City had taken nearly forty minutes. Genna Walsh was waiting for Ellie on the front porch of a modest white-wood duplex, a baby bouncing on her hip and a cordless phone balanced against her shoulder. She waved at Ellie and then held her fingers an inch apart to indicate that her call was almost completed.

  “The lawyer told me he faxed it to you yesterday…. Fine…I’ll ask him to send it again. And then how long does it take?…Okay, I’ll call again tomorrow to make sure you get it. Good-bye.”

  She let out a sigh and rested the handset on the porch railing. “I tell you, when all this stuff is over, the first thing I’m doing is getting a will for me and my husband. My brother never wrote one. I’m Bobby’s only family left, but I swear, sorting through all the legalities, I’d rather just give the money to charity at this point.”

  Ellie gave the baby, a chubby thin
g with black wispy hair topped with a pink bow, a pat on the cheek. “Hopefully it won’t be too complicated and you’ll get it sorted out.”

  “Well, I guess you know as much about my brother’s finances as I do after all the poking around you did.”

  Ellie started to offer an explanation, but Genna shook her head. “After what I saw in that courtroom, I understand why you had so many questions about Bobby. My brother wasn’t perfect, but he worked hard. Never went to college, but managed to buy that nice apartment in Hoboken and everything. He was a good uncle, wasn’t he, sweetie girl?” She bounced the baby on her hip again. “This one was only two months old when it happened. My other one—she’s asleep inside—just turned three. Breaks my heart his nieces won’t remember him.”

  “Did your brother ever have a problem with Sparks?”

  Genna shook her head.

  “No. He was grateful for the money. His only complaint is he might have liked something a little higher up the food chain. He was pretty much a glorified bodyguard, but hey, he knew he was getting paid well for it.”

  “And he seemed to get along with the man he was guarding?”

  “Yeah, sure. Not like Sparks was his buddy, but Bobby said he was a pretty decent guy. I mean, not a lot of rich people would let employees use that apartment and everything.”

  “Did he ever mention Sparks using an escort service called Prestige Parties?”

  “Oh, no. Really? That’s crazy. Why does a man like that have to go paying for it? No, Bobby never said anything about that. I would’ve remembered for sure.”

  “And, I’m so sorry to have to ask this, but what about Bobby? Did he ever, you know—”

  “Go to a prostitute? Oh, God, I don’t think so.”

  “Through fingerprint evidence, we finally identified the woman who was with your brother that night. We believe she was hired to be with him.”

  Genna shook her head. “I just don’t understand men. I’ll kill Carl if he knew.”

  “What makes you think your husband would know?”

  “Because when Bobby was over the day before he was killed, I caught him and Carl snickering, and they got all secretive when I walked in. Later on Carl told me that Bobby said he had this date the next night and it was a sure thing. I figured he meant the girl was easy and let it drop. I don’t need to hear something like that. I can’t believe he’d go to a hooker, but honestly? How much can a sister know about that part of her brother, you know?”

  Too much, Ellie thought. “And your brother never mentioned seeing something at work that maybe he wasn’t supposed to see?”

  “No, and even if he did, Nick would’ve vouched for him.”

  “They were pretty tight?”

  “Nick loved Bobby. He took care of him, you know?”

  “In what way?”

  “Bobby went in the army to get some skills and a better life. We didn’t have a lot, you know? And we both tried to do good for ourselves, but you can only do so much. I got married to a good man, but frankly, we only have this roof over our head because Bobby let us have the house when our parents were both dead. And for Bobby, the army was at least something, but a job like what he had at Sparks? That was all because of Nick. Nick could’ve hired any one of those fancy guys he knew from the private military contractor. But he didn’t. The only guy he hired, from all the people he knew from when he was over in Afghanistan, was an enlisted man: Bobby.”

  “I can tell you’re proud.”

  Genna gave her a half smile. “So proud. And I never once told him. Like I said, he wasn’t perfect. No wife. He liked to party. All I ever said to him was, ‘When are you gonna grow up?’ I wish he knew how much he’s helping his nieces. His life insurance. His apartment. We’re going to put it all away for the girls. They’ll be able to go to college. Do whatever they want.”

  “I’m sure your brother would be happy about that, Genna.”

  Ellie thanked Genna for her time and then watched as she gently opened the front door and stepped inside. As she walked to the car, she wondered whether there had been any point to driving out there.

  Her cell rang just as she hit the Holland Tunnel. It was Jess.

  “Hey,” she said. “Talk fast because I’m about to lose the signal.”

  “I think I just saw that girl.”

  “What girl?”

  “The one in the picture you sent me. The one you warned me about.”

  “Where? When?”

  “Here. Just, like, three minutes ago. I didn’t—”

  “Where’s here, Jess?”

  Traffic slowed in front of her, and she immediately slammed on her emergency lights.

  “At the apartment, across the street. I noticed her when I walked in and thought she looked familiar. By the time I figured it out, she was gone. I ran outside. I’m out front now, but I don’t see her.”

  “I’ll be right there. Do me a favor. Move as fast as you can. Go to Park, then uptown like you’re heading for Grand Central.” Trying to find someone who didn’t want to be found in Manhattan, even with only a three-minute head start, was like trying to chase a single fallen leaf in a tornado, but Ellie was playing the odds. “If you can find her, follow her. Don’t try to stop her, but keep your eyes on her, and I’ll call you as soon as I’m in the city.

  “Did you hear me, Jess?” She looked at the screen of her cell. The signal was gone.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  8:02 P.M.

  Despite a natural aversion to his father’s profession, Jess turned out to have some cop in him after all. The call to Ellie dropped before he could make out her final request, but his instincts had led him east on Thirty-eighth Street and then north on Park Avenue, the same route Ellie had chosen in the hopes Tanya was heading for Grand Central Station. But he never did spot Tanya Abbott. Neither did Ellie, Rogan, or the team of patrol officers who scanned the streets of Murray Hill and a twenty-block surrounding radius for the next two hours.

  By eight o’clock, they had regrouped outside Ellie’s apartment complex.

  “You sure your brother didn’t just make a mistake?”

  Ellie didn’t know the uni, but could tell from the glance at his watch that he didn’t appreciate chasing ghosts.

  “He didn’t make a mistake.” If Jess said he was positive, then he was right. She was certain enough that, for the first time since Tanya disappeared, the Public Information Office had published an immediate press release of a confirmed sighting of the missing woman at the corner of Thirty-eighth Street and Park. The notice had gone out on the live local news updates.

  None of it had mattered. Tanya had managed to slip past them.

  “So you want us to repeat the drill again?” the uni asked, still looking at his watch in case she’d missed the hint the first time.

  “You know, we could expand the radius,” another uni suggested, to the vocalized annoyance of his fellow officers.

  Rogan placed his hands on his hips and looked up and down Thirty-eighth Street, as if one last scan would do the trick. Finally, he dropped his arms and sighed.

  “We got to move on, Hatcher. She’s gone.”

  “So we’re out of here?” one of the unis asked.

  She nodded. “Good work,” she offered feebly, triggering a few groans as they walked away.

  “I’m hungry,” Rogan said once they were alone.

  Ellie’s only nourishment for the day had been a Hershey’s bar from the DA vending machine and a few fast scoops of Nutella at the precinct. She shared the sentiment but wanted to keep grinding away at the case. “Fine, but we eat fast.”

  “Girl, you always eat fast.”

  Ellie reached for the cheeseburger before the plate even hit the table and took an enormous bite. Food had never tasted so good.

  They had settled in at Molly’s, an Irish pub two blocks from the precinct with sawdust floors and arguably the best burgers in Manhattan. She withstood the urge for an accompanying Guinness, knowing they weren’t yet done fo
r the night.

  “Maybe your brother did made a mistake,” Rogan said as he picked at a piece of eggplant on his vegetarian sandwich. Ellie knew he was struggling to get his cholesterol down and wasn’t happy with the diet Sydney had asked him to follow for a month. Watching her tear into a juicy cheeseburger was probably torture for him, but it didn’t keep her from taking another eager chomp.

  “He’s not like that,” she said once she’d finally swallowed.

  “Not to be rude, but the man’s nearly forty years old and lives on your sofa. He has to have made a few mistakes somewhere along the line.”

  “Not about this kind of stuff. He’s not paranoid, you know? If he saw someone and thinks it’s Tanya Abbott, then I’d bet money it was her.”

  “But Jess said she was by herself.”

  “Then she probably was.”

  “Why would she do that? The entire New York Police Department is looking for her. Why would she go after you? And why go on her own?”

  “Because she’s not after us. She was hiding in that bathroom cabinet, and she’s scared. First she was scared of the police, but now she’s more afraid of whoever killed Katie Battle and whoever’s after her.”

  Rogan shook his head. “Why do you feel sorry for this girl? She had to be involved in what happened to Megan.”

  “Why are you so certain of that?”

  “Because she posted that threat against us on Campus Juice using that ISP concealer or whatever it’s called, which means she also posted the original threats about Megan. And there’s only one reason she would’ve done that.”

  Ellie couldn’t ignore his point, but she also couldn’t ignore the feeling in her gut that Sam Sparks’s connection to Prestige Parties was not just a coincidence.

  “Let’s say I’m right and that Sam Sparks had Mancini killed and that Tanya was simply a witness.”

  “Okay. Then Sparks would go after the woman Mancini was with that night, and that was supposed to be Katie Battle. The problem is, you can’t explain why someone went after Tanya first, and then Battle.”