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"I’ht have found someone who can help you out"

"Oh?"

"There’s a Starbucks on my street How about if we meet you there?" she added "You knohere"

"I’anized his anized his papers Fact one: He was now convinced that Genevieve O’Brien had been kidnapped, and that she had been taken by the same person or persons responsible for the disappearances of the prostitutes She had last been seen getting into a dark sedan

She ht still be alive somewhere

Possibly beneath the city

Buried sins

Fact two: The explosion at Hastings House had not been an accident Okay, that wasn’t a proven fact, but it was a supposition so strong that he felt co it as fact

Fact three: Matt, who had died in that explosion, had written a number of articles on the disappearances

Theory: All three things were related Matt’s death, thein his heart What had Matt known? What had he known that he hadn’t realized he knew? Whatever it was, it had so disturbed a killer that he’d conceived and carried out the perfect plan, a targeted execution that appeared, even after a thorough investigation, to be an accident

He reached for his cell phone Robert Adair’s assistant got hi with Greta Peterson

She was surprised to hear from him, and he forced hi that yes, he was busy, yes, he was fine, yes, he’d seen Leslie, yes, they had a lot in common, yes…

She was more surprised when he asked her for list of everyone who had attended the gala, and for every caterer, police officer and private security person who had worked it He also asked for a list of anyone who had recently done work at Hastings House

"I’ave all those lists to the police" She paused, then said sadly, "It was an accident, Joe You looked into it yourself The file is closed"

It’s been reopened, Joe thought Aloud he said only, "Greta, you’re a dear, but I can’t let it go, not yet Will you get the lists for er thehed "Sure If it will help you coo over it all you want"

As he hung up, he had the strange sensation that he wasn’t alone The feeling was so strong that he actually looked to his right, at the passenger seat There was no one there Of course not, you fool You would have known if someone had jumped in the car

But he looked in the rearvieweven ht he heard a whisper So in his ear, indistinct at first It was the breeze, he told himself; he had therolled down It was the sound of a radio on the street so at him from the crowded sidewalks of Manhattan

Whatever it was, it seeency to the sound, which irritated hiain, ever since he had known Leslie, he had to admit that somehohat she saas clearer, what she intuited was often real…

"Screw it," he said aloud

And then, despite his own plans, he headed to the library

Leslie left the library with a roll of copies in her hands She’d thought she would grab a taxi, but it was midday and the traffic was insane Actually, she liked the subway, she thought as she headed for the nearest station It was usually fast and rarely got hung up by traffic ja her MetroCard as she went The entry shtly of urine There was an obviously handicappedby one wall, and she stopped to drop a dollar in his cap Before she could reach the turnstile, she saw a skinny old wo That demanded another pause for a dollar

Since she’d already opened her heart to the first two, she paused to give the twentyso the flute a dollar, too

As she dropped the bill into his flute case, she felt a sense of so watched This was the subway, for God’s sake, she told herself Full of people Anyone could be watching her

She paused There was soe, but she couldn’t quite get it to ly as she stood at the top of the stairs leading down to the train platforround There were miles and miles of subway tunnels Maybe that was it Over the years, suborkers had discovered any nu new lines And there were unused tunnels, too, so…

Great The killer was probably burying his victiround

She started That strange feeling of being watched struck her again

Sure, she was being watched By the guy with the dull eyes in the corner He wasn’t really seeing anything, though

It was just a feeling, she told herself

But it wasn’t that si She looked around And saw a dozen people, none of who at her

New Yorkers were busy people on thea total paranoid If only…

If only you would speak to me…

Matt was dead

He lived only in her drea down to the train platfor, people-watching as she went There were the tourists, carrying guidebooks and looking around ide eyes There were the business crisp in their dark suits There were punks with ski caps and students reading textbooks, oblivious to the world around them, their iPods all the company they needed