Fear the Night

Something new and puzzling for Repetto and his detectives. So difficult for them, in the game that kept changing.

Then he decided the rooftop he’d scouted out and accessed twice, easily, would be the safest course of action, and would almost guarantee his escape. There were unacceptable risks here at street level. People were unpredictable. Coincidence might gain the upper hand. Besides, he couldn’t be sure of the echoing effect of the rifle’s report down low, how difficult it would be to guess its origin.

Play it safe. Take more of what luck has granted you. In everything, it’s imperative that luck and genius be friends and accomplices, so each can alleviate the others’ shortcomings.

He settled deeper into the concealing mound of formless plastic bags. They gave for him, welcoming him, their contents cooperating in his merging with them so he’d be invisible in the shadows. A feeling of power, of control, surged through him. What he attempted, he accomplished.

In the game whose rules he set and employed, and in which his pawns and opponents had no choice but to play, he was fate itself.

He smiled as he continued his watch on the Bellam Theater’s stage door, waiting, accumulating information on his target’s haunts and habits, becoming one with his prey.

She had no idea that her future had been decided, and that it was brief.

Meg sat in the unmarked across the street from Alex’s apartment building. She wasn’t sure why she’d driven here instead of home, but that shouldn’t surprise her, because she had no idea how she really felt about Alex.

She’d received another e-mail from him this morning, imploring her to see him again, this time in an unofficial capacity. She’d caught herself smiling after reading it, and deleted it immediately and left to meet Repetto and Birdy.

Who did Alex think he was? He’d been a cop, and he knew she was a cop. There was no way she should even consider beginning the kind of relationship he obviously had in mind. She also didn’t care for the way he assumed he could push her buttons and she’d respond. Meg figured she’d had her share of that kind of love.

Yet here she was with her motor idling-the car’s motor-and the air conditioner keeping the heat and humidity at a minimum. Meg had figured out which of the windows facing the street were Alex’s, and saw that a light was on inside the apartment’s living room. She was about to look away when a figure passed the windows, moving in a way that, even from this distance, left no doubt it was Alex.

Now she couldn’t drive away. Couldn’t look away. She knew why. She had to find out if he was alone.

An idiot. I’m acting like a jealous idiot. As if he doesn’t have a perfect right to see whoever he chooses.

Five minutes passed, and Meg’s neck was getting stiff from the way she had to sit to stare up at Alex’s windows.

There he was again! Alone.

But the glimpse wasn’t enough. Meg stayed.

A minute or so later, Alex crossed the windows going the opposite direction. Alone again. Three times. That should be enough even for the most masochistic, jealous fool. And though she’d seen him only briefly each time and hadn’t absorbed detail from this distance, she was sure he was fully dressed.

She looked away, raising an arm and using her right hand to massage the back of her neck, then put the car into drive.

A final glance up as she was about to pull away from the curb stopped her.

Alex had crossed the window again-she was sure it was Alex. And he’d been carrying a long object. A rifle or shotgun?

A crutch? A closed umbrella? A saw?

This is stupid! This is goddamned stupid!

Enough!

She concentrated on the view out the windshield and accelerated away from the curb.

A horn blasted and made her jump when the car had traveled only about ten feet. A cab roared past her with another, abbreviated note of its horn, its driver chastising her with an automotive expletive.

She hadn’t checked the mirror or glanced over her shoulder before pulling out into traffic.

More careful now, remembering to look before stepping down on the accelerator pedal, she joined a string of vehicles that had just been set free by the signal at the corner.

Part of the flow of traffic now, Meg relaxed somewhat.

She was sure she hadn’t seen Alex carrying a rifle.

In retrospect, she couldn’t even be sure she’d been looking at the right window. The man-if it had been a man-carrying the long object might not even have been Alex.

The rest of the drive home she tried to put her mind at ease.

It didn’t work.

“You want the rest of this cinnamon bun?”

Repetto was seated across the table from Meg the next morning, in a maroon-upholstered window booth at the Harrison Diner on First Avenue. The place had a double door to form a kind of air lock, but each time someone entered or exited, a breeze played over his ankles. Since the air conditioner hadn’t yet chased away the heat left over from yesterday, it felt pretty good. The sweet scent of the oversize, overiced bun on his plate dominated even the grilled bacon smell permeating the diner.

“They heated it up,” he added.

Meg silently shook her head no.

Repetto had been studying her since she’d slid into the booth. Her hair wasn’t as neatly combed as usual, and her eyes had a weary, dreamy quality. He had to admit it made her more attractive.

Then it struck him. He knew the look. She was in love. Or something like love.

Not like Meg the terse. Meg the cynical.

A new Meg?

“You seeing someone?” Repetto asked, and took a sip of his coffee. Repetto driving to the point.

She looked sleepily at him. “Seeing-oh, you mean seeing someone.”

“Uh-huh.”

Her face reddened and he knew he’d struck a soft spot. “Does my personal life have something to do with my work?” He could see her confusion. She didn’t know what to say or do, so she feigned anger.

“You know it does.”

“Do I ask you if you’re seeing someone?”

“You can.”

“Are you?”

“No. My wife would kill me.”

Meg noticed the expression on his face didn’t change. What did his words mean? Men were such accomplished deceivers. It was fucking genetic. “Look,” she said, keeping her tone level, “if my personal life starts getting in the way of my job, I’ll let you know.”

“But will you know?”

“Whether I will or won’t, I just told you the way it is.”

Feisty but controlled, letting me know I crossed the line. He stared at her, trusting her. She might be in love or in heat-he knew the signs-but she wasn’t going to let it interfere with the investigation. That was all he should be concerned about and all he needed to know.

Repetto took a sip of coffee and sat back. Who might be her secret love interest? Since they’d teamed up, Meg had spent most of her waking hours with him or with Birdy.

Repetto felt a sudden alarm. Might Meg feel that way about him, Repetto himself?

No. He didn’t think so. Not judging by her reaction to personal questions that maybe he hadn’t had a right to ask.

Birdy?

It was difficult to imagine the fidgety, wary Birdy being involved in a secret extramarital affair with Meg. Nobody Repetto knew was more married than Birdy. Besides, he and Meg both knew the