That’s the last time I saw my uncle Max. His face still wet with tears and flushed with bourbon, his sad smile, his final words to me.
Oh, God, I thought now as I watched the ebb and flow of traffic down on First Avenue from Jake’s window. What did he mean?
Jake was loading the dishwasher in the kitchen and I could hear him humming something. I loved that he got dinner and did the dishes. Zack had been such a mama’s boy. Esme had always done everything for him, even picked out his clothes every morning until he went off to college. With a man like that, even if he’d learned at some point that not all women existed to tend to his needs, there was still the scent of resentment wafting off of him when he was doing something he secretly believed was beneath him. Jake knew how to take care of himself and didn’t mind taking care of others. Maybe even liked it a little.
You’re probably wondering, When is she going to bring up the things Detective Salvo told her? First, Jake’s criminal record, and how the shot that killed Christian Luna came from the park where Jake had been hiding and not from the rooftop, as Jake implied that night. No, I hadn’t forgotten about those things. And I knew I’d waited long enough to ask the questions to which I wasn’t sure I wanted answers.
I felt him come into the room, rather than saw him, since I was staring out the window. He moved in close to me and wrapped me up in his arms. I waited for him to ask me what I was thinking, but he didn’t.
“Detective Salvo says you have a criminal record,” I said quietly.
He exhaled close to my ear but didn’t release me from his arms. “You tend to get in trouble when you do PI work. It’s not like the movies; cops don’t like PI’s. You get in the way, they bring you up on charges. None of it sticks. Anyway, I don’t actually have a
“You like the bad boys, huh?” he said, kissing my neck.
“You’re my first one.”
I was about to ask him about the shot fired in the park when I felt him stiffen and go quiet suddenly. I turned to look at him, wondering what I’d said. But he wasn’t looking at me. He was looking out the window. He nudged me gently to the side.
“What do you see?”
“That guy standing in the doorway over there. Is that the man who’s been following you? He was there when I came back from getting the food. And he’s still standing there.”
I peered over his shoulder and saw a form looming in a dark doorway. But I couldn’t see a face, could make out only a leg and a black boot.
“I don’t know,” I said, feeling that flutter in my chest. “It could be anyone.”
“I have a strange feeling.”
“Yeah, shady people lingering in doorways in the East Village…that’s really weird. Not normal at all.”
“I’m going to go check it out. Stay here.”
He’d grabbed his jacket and keys and was gone before I even finished saying, “What do you mean, check it out? That’s ridiculous.”
I heard him hammering down the stairs. I figured by the time I put pants on (I was wearing one of Jake’s T- shirts and a pair of white socks) and followed him onto the street, he’d be back. So I stood in the window and watched the man across the street.
twenty-two
Before Jake reached the avenue, I saw the form move from the darkness and take off down the street. It wasn’t the man from the train and Barnes & Noble. It was my brother.
What was he doing there? Waiting for me? I opened the window and yelled his name but the traffic noise took my voice away. I hurried to get dressed, and as I pulled on my jeans, I heard an odd ringing, muted as if coming from beneath layers of fabric. I realized it was coming from beneath the pile of my clothes on Jake’s bedroom floor. I dug through it until I found it in the pocket of my coat—my new cell phone. I fished it out and looked at the number blinking on the screen. I didn’t recognize it. I hesitated, wondering if I should bother answering it since no one I knew even had this number. Finally my curiosity got the better of me.
“Hello?” I said tentatively.
“Ridley Jones?” Gruff voice, older man. I recognized the voice but couldn’t place it.
“Yes?”
“It’s Detective Salvo.”
“How’d you get this number?”
“You called me, remember? I saved the number on my cell phone.”
“Oh.” Another reason not to have a cellular phone.
“Listen, Ridley. I’ve got some bad news for you. We found the rifle that we believe killed Christian Luna,” he said. My heart started thumping. Why was he telling me this?
“We found it up in the parking lot beside Fort Tryon Park in the Bronx. It was registered to your friend, Harley Jacobsen.”
My mind started racing as I thought back to that night. Jake rushing from the darkness, pulling me from Christian Luna. I remembered his arm around me, ushering me quickly to the car. I remembered him driving to Fort Tryon Park and parking in the deserted lot, letting me sob into his shoulder. I didn’t remember a rifle. I would have seen it. Wouldn’t I?
“I just want to make sure you stay away from him tonight. We’re going to be taking him in. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“I told you I don’t—”
“Spare me, Ms. Jones.”
He was right. It seemed kind of silly to keep insisting that I didn’t know him when it was obvious that I did. Still, I felt the need to stick to my story.
“If you think I’m his friend, why would you warn me that you’re taking him in and risk my tipping him off?”
He paused for a second and I heard him release a breath. “Because I think you’re a good person who has put her trust in someone that doesn’t deserve it. And frankly, I don’t want you caught in the crossfire. Don’t make me regret giving you this break,” he said, and hung up the phone.
Jake entered the apartment then and closed the door behind him.
“He took off,” he said, shedding his jacket and throwing it over the chair. “He wasn’t there when I reached the street.”
I stood there with the cell phone still in my hand, not sure what to say or do. “Did you get a look at him when he ran?” I’d forgotten all about Ace. I must have looked strange staring at him, my mind rushing to process the information Detective Salvo had given me.
“What?” he said, his brow knitting.
Then I thought I could hear the sirens faintly, off in the distance. He didn’t really seem to notice. It’s not as though it’s an unusual sound in the city night. “They’re coming for you, Jake,” I said.
“Who?”
“Detective Salvo just called me,” I said, buttoning my jeans and looking at him now.
“He called you?” he said, looking at me hard. “How?”
“On my cell phone. He had the number from when I called him yesterday.” I moved closer to him. “That’s not important. They say they found the rifle that killed Christian Luna.”
“Okay, good,” he said with a shrug. “What does that have to do with me?”
“They say it’s registered to you, Jake.”
He paused as the weight of my words hit him. “Oh, shit,” he said, reaching for the nearby chair. “That’s
