'Do I think she was having an affair with him? Yes. I hate saying it to you but yes. He was the wonderful young thing she'd always wanted. But I also know that whatever their relationship was, she ended it before you came down here. She was very upset. But not sad. Kind of relieved and weirdly happy. You know, the way you are when you make a hard decision it took you forever to make, but then when you make it, it all seems so easy, like it was the only thing you could ever have decided.'
'Thank you for saying that.'
'I'm just telling you what I saw. And what I knew. Whatever was going on was over.'
'Except she was going to give him a job.'
Bella looked surprised. Jack heard her draw in some air through her teeth. It made a faint whistling sound. 'Yes,' she said. 'She didn't want anyone to know, but she told me that she was going to get him a job with one of the restaurants. She said he wanted to get away, to start something new. Not here and not New York. She was going to set him up as an assistant manager at one of the restaurants. Maybe London, that's what I remember. She'd told me you never went to the London restaurant anymore, so I figured that's why she'd picked it.'
'She was going to send Kid to London?'
'That's what she told me, Jack. And really – now you know everything I know.'
Jack kissed Bella on the cheek and left the restaurant.
Yes, he knew everything she knew. And everything the Trottys knew and everything Susanna Rae Hale knew.
But it wasn't enough. Not yet.
He was getting closer. For the first time he felt like he was getting close.
But he still didn't know nearly enough.
FORTY-EIGHT
It was getting to the end.
This was almost the last one. Hardly anyone was left.
That was good, it was definitely good, because suddenly it was all very, very tiring.
There was nobody else around, just the old man, and he was right where he was supposed to be. That's what was amazing about people. They were almost always right where they were supposed to be. They were so predictable. And 'predictable' was another word for soft.
That was a good one, wasn't it? Who said that? Why was it so hard to remember stuff like that? Stuff like who said 'predictable' was another word for soft.
Oh, well. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered except what had to be done here and now. And fast. There would be more people soon. There wasn't much time.
It had to be now.
The old man's back was turned. And he had something in his arms. Oh, that was just too perfect…
Go!
Three silent footsteps. Pick the knife up, the long, beautiful knife on the butcher-block table. Three more steps. He heard something. He's turning…
Slash down. Now! He's surprised. Oh, yes, he is. And he's staggering. This won't be hard, he's too old to fight you…
He's bleeding. He can't believe what he's seeing. He can't believe you're here and you're so strong. He can't believe he's going to die. None of them ever believed they were going to die.
Use the knife again. Stick him. Slice him. Slash him open and make sure he can never feel or think or ever, ever, ever tell anything he knows…
But the old man is strong, too. God, how can he be this strong? And why is he still struggling? Doesn't he know it's pointless to fight? It's pointless to struggle against death. Death always wins Stop fighting me!
Is he really this strong? Are you weakening? Is that possible? Are you getting weaker? No. No, no, no, no, no! You're just tired. You just need some sleep.
But no time to sleep.
No time.
You have to run. People are coming. They'll be here soon.
Sleep when it's all done. Sleep when you're safe. Sleep when it's over.
And it's almost over.
The old man wasn't fighting anymore. He wasn't moving anymore. He was perfectly still.
It's almost over…
FORTY-NINE
Patience McCoy decided that she was, in fact, an idiot. How much simpler could this have been? The answer: no simpler. This was Basic Police Investigation 101. They would have done this on Law and Order before the first commercial. So why the hell hadn't she thought of it earlier?
Lewis, the records nerd, hadn't just called her back, he'd actually come to her desk. He'd left his beloved records to give her the news.
'What you got for me, File Boy?' she said.
'Absolutely nothing on Jack Keller except for a liquor license application for his restaurant, which was granted. Long time ago.'
'Shit,' McCoy said.
'But,' Lewis said, 'there is something on Caroline Keller.'
'What?'
'She called in a complaint. Over ten years ago. She was being harassed.'
'Don't drag it out, I don't got the time. Just give it to me.'
'Her husband was in England and she was being harassed by a woman. Emma Rhowam. English. She was here visiting.' He tapped his file. 'It says Ms. Rhowam repeatedly made threatening and obscene phone calls to Mrs. Keller, once assaulted her on the street. Keller got a restraining order, which seems to have worked. Calls stopped, no more assaults. Anything else?'
But McCoy had stopped listening. This didn't have to mean anything, she told herself. Ten or more years was a long time. And there didn't have to be a connection. Could be something simple. The Kellers made fun of this lady's dog. The Kellers served her a bad steak in the restaurant. The Kellers It hit her like a lightning bolt.
Don't think Kellers, she told herself. Think Kid.
What was it Jack had told her about the Destination? Kid's romantic description? Topeka's a town, Cleveland's a city, but Rome is a destination.
Rome is a destination.
But how about Rhowam?
You bet your fucking ass she's a destination. She's the Destination. Gotta be. And nine years ago Emma Rhowam attacked Caroline Keller. McCoy had no idea why but right now, the whys were unimportant. All that mattered was finding her.
If she were involved with Kid, that meant she was probably in New York. McCoy reached for the Manhattan phone book. Could it possibly be this easy? Yes, it damn well could. Emma Rhowam, 627 West Ninth Street.
Son of a bitch.
She called the listed phone number and had to admit she was surprised as hell when a woman's voice said, 'Hello?'
'Is this Emma Rhowam?'
'Yes. Yes, it is. Who's calling?'
'Sergeant Patience McCoy, NYPD. Do you know a Kid Demeter, Ms. Rhowam?'
