The Deputy’s Duty

Cribs.”

Cribs snapped to attention with a wary look in his eyes. “Yes.”

Ryan showed him his badge and introduced himself and Meghan. He showed the officer the photos he’d brought with him, flashing the images of Dosha Meniski, Christina Hennessy and Georgina Hennessy.

The officer shook his head. “No one’s come out or gone in since I arrived.”

“We’ll have to go door-to-door,” Ryan stated and helped Meghan don the flak vest.

She grimaced as the weight of the jacket dropped onto her shoulders. “Is this really necessary?”

“Considering we were shot at yesterday? Yeah, necessary.”

“Okay then.”

He approved of her attitude, appreciated her spunk. She might need that and more depending how things turned out. He unlocked his gun case, palmed his service weapon and chambered a round before tucking the Sig into the holster clipped to his belt. “Can I stow this in your trunk?” Ryan asked holding up the case.

“Of course.” Cribs popped the trunk. Ryan tossed the case inside.

“Captain Gregson said I was to accompany you,” the officer said, falling in step with them.

Ryan nodded, glad for the support. They entered the building and started knocking on doors, showing the three photos to the residents. The building was old, but clean.

The stairwell was muggy and hot. Ryan’s cotton shirt stuck to his back. On the fourth floor, Meghan paused to tie up her hair, exposing the graceful lines of her neck.

On the top floor of the five-floor walk-up, they encountered a bent old man who studied the photos before pointing down the hall. “There. Apartment F.”

Adrenaline pumped through Ryan’s veins. He pulled Meghan behind him. He and Cribs flanked the door. Holding his Sig Sauer in a two-handed grip, with the muzzle pointed down, Ryan allowed Officer Cribs to take the lead.

Cribs rapped his knuckles against the prefabricated door. “NYPD. Open up.”

No sounds came from inside the apartment. Ryan’s gut clenched. He glanced at Meghan. Her apprehensive expression ramped up his own anxiety. He remembered the way Meghan had prayed after Christina escaped with Georgina. Though his faith was on unsteady ground, he sent up a silent request. Lord, let us find Georgina and capture Christina. Keep my little niece safe.

Abruptly the door swung open, startling Ryan. He pointed his weapon at the woman standing in the doorway.

EIGHT

Short, round and weathered were the words that sprang to Ryan’s mind. A real old-world babushka, complete with a triangular scarf covering her graying hair. His gaze searched beyond the woman. The apartment appeared empty.

“Are you Dosha Meniski?” Cribs asked.

“Da. I am Dosha,” she answered, her voice heavily accented with the distinct sound of Eastern European descent. “Finally you come.”

Confused, Ryan lowered his weapon. “Is your great-niece Christina here?”

Dosha shook her head, worry pinched the corners of her eyes. “No. I’m worried. She’s not in her right mind.”

Behind him, Ryan heard Meghan’s soft intake of breath. She pushed past him to face Dosha. “Where’s Georgina?”

Dosha wrung her hands. “She go with Christina.” Her gaze pleaded with them. “Please, you must help. I fear for the baby.”

Frustration added weight to Ryan’s heavy heart. He holstered his weapon. “Do you know where they went?”

The young officer eased past them and quickly made sure the small apartment was indeed empty save for Dosha.

“No. Christina received a phone call. Then she bundled baby up and took her. I plead with her to leave little girl with me, but she wouldn’t. She told me to say goodbye to Georgina. I worry she won’t be back.”

Ryan’s mind raced with possibilities. Something at the periphery of his thoughts clamored for attention.

“Christina didn’t take your car,” Meghan said.

“I watch from window. She climbed in a taxi. I don’t know where they were going. The taxi headed uptown.”

He clasped her hand. “Thank you.”

They left Dosha with the promise to let her know when they found Georgina and Christina. He would find them. No matter what it took.

Outside on the sidewalk, Officer Cribs called his dispatch. Within moments they had the name of a cabdriver and current location for the taxi that had picked up a fare in front of the East Village apartment building.

Officer Cribs drove them across town. As they sat at a stoplight, Ryan glanced out the passenger window. The building on the corner was a bank that reminded Ryan of the anonymous package they’d received not long after Olivia’s death. The box had contained a baby blanket and hospital bracelet tipping them off to the fact that Olivia had given birth to a baby girl. They never had discovered who’d sent the package. Ryan had a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach that he knew who had sent the items in hopes they’d led to Georgina.

His father.

Welling rage and bitterness crashed over him, making him clench his jaw until it ached. Meghan’s words chased along behind, Choose to forgive.

Right now he couldn’t.

But he also couldn’t give in to the fury wanting to spill out. He had to concentrate on the immediate need. Georgina. Her safety was paramount. Bringing in Christina ran a close second.

He refocused, replaying the contents of the package in his mind.

In addition to the baby items, the box had contained an uncashed check in the amount of ten thousand dollars made out to Olivia. Drawn on that bank in New York signed by a William Sharp. The account was closed and the lawyer’s address had turned out to be bogus…

More frustrated than not, he struggled to put the pieces together. Had this check been a payoff by the Hennessys? Or a payment for the baby Olivia had given up? Why hadn’t Olivia cashed the check?

Who was this lawyer and what part did he play in the death of Olivia? Was there a connection between Sharp and the Hennessys?

He blew out a breath as the questions battered at his mind like baseballs spitting from an out-of-control pitching machine.

They found Christina’s taxi driver leaning against his car and eating a hot dog on Broadway.

Officer Cribs hung back as Ryan approached the man. He wore a Yankees ball cap backward, jeans and a short-sleeve loose shirt. Mustard smears on his cheek stood out in sharp contrast to his dark skin.

“You Ajay Baboor?” Ryan asked as he stepped close, blocking the guy in.

Wariness flickered in his dark eyes. “That’s me. Who wants to know?”

The heavy Brooklyn accent surprised Ryan. So much for stereotypical ideas. “I’m Deputy Chief Ryan Fitzgerald.” He showed his badge. “You picked up a fare this morning. A woman and child.”

“These two,” Meghan said, holding up the photos they’d brought of Christina and Georgina.

Ajay glanced at the photos then his gaze darted between Ryan and Meghan. “Yeah. So?”

“Where did you drop them off?” Ryan pressed.

“Was the little girl okay?” Meghan asked, her voice betraying her anxiety with a slight tremor.

Ajay nodded. “Yeah, the kid was great. Laughing and chattering up a storm. Mom wasn’t so happy, though. Kept telling the kid to shush.” He shook his head. “Some people don’t get that kids are kids and can’t help their babbling. I see it all the time.”

“But where did you drop them off?” Ryan repeated his question.

“The 500 block of West 178th, up in Washington Heights.”