Chapter 16
‘Find anything?’ Alice called as I stomped back into the apartment.
I’d spent a few more hours in the shop, checking all the places the little trinket box could be, just in case I’d got it wrong.
(I knew I wasn’t wrong. But I still had to check.)
The searching gave me time to come up with a plan, because God knew I needed one. If things had been dangerous before, it was nothing compared to what I was about to face.
‘No,’ I yelled back. I definitely wasn’t going to tell her about the trinket box, but I’d decided to keep my mouth shut about the login details for Van der Hausen’s too. She didn’t need any extra stress.
Alice appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, barefoot, with her hair loose around her shoulders.
After everything I’d discovered this morning, all I wanted to do was drag her into a quiet room, curl up together and pretend the outside world didn’t exist. I already knew that her hair would smell amazing, that she’d laugh when I said something grouchy, that she’d kiss me sweetly, and maybe, just maybe, I could feel normal. If only for a moment.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, making a face. ‘I can come with you tomorrow if you like.’
‘Thanks,’ I said, letting her believe that my sour mood was due to my lack of progress, rather than knowing what I had to do next. ‘Shall we order dinner?’
‘Sounds like a plan,’ she agreed.
I felt guilty about lying to Alice’s face, but the image of a gun jammed under her chin and her subsequent breakdown was seared into my memory, and it had flipped a switch in me.
I was rapidly falling for her, and under no circumstances was I going to let anything like that happen to her again.
If that meant cutting her out, so be it.
After dinner I faked a return of the headache and went to bed early, diverting for a long shower to calm my nerves and prepare myself for what was coming.
I spent another couple of hours making plans, waiting until I could be sure Alice was definitely asleep, then changed into black leggings and a black T-shirt, and packed up my bags.
My heart was in my throat at the prospect of sneaking out and leaving Alice alone, and I forced those messy, complicated feelings away as I concentrated on what needed to be done.
This was all for her own good. The only way I could be certain she’d be far, far away from any potential danger was to not include her in my plans.
I double-checked to make sure I had everything, then slipped from the apartment and out into the cool New York night.
Since I was almost in the right neighborhood, I had one stop I wanted to make before heading to my next hiding place.
I couldn’t stop checking over my shoulder as I rushed down the street, heading toward the West Village.
In reality, there was no way Alice would notice me missing for hours yet, but the idea that she could be following me was enough to keep me checking that she definitely wasn’t there.
The bodega on 14th Street didn’t look any different than it usually did.
The door was propped open, as usual, and there weren’t customers skulking around inside, as usual.
But Marcus wasn’t there. Another guy – early twenties, tattoos up his neck and onto his face, across his knuckles and peeking out from under his white T-shirt – sat where Marcus normally did.
He lifted his chin at me in acknowledgement as I stepped inside.
All of a sudden, I wasn’t sure what my next move should be. I’d come here to check in with Marcus and make sure there wasn’t any more intel I should be aware of now things had ramped up. I hadn’t been expecting to see someone else.
‘Hey,’ I said.
‘Hey,’ he grunted in reply.
I decided to shoot my shot. ‘Is Marcus around?’
‘Marcus?’ he echoed. He lifted his dark eyes to meet mine. They were flat, emotionless. ‘Ain’t no one called Marcus working here.’
For a second, I stared him down.
This was definitely the right bodega. I was in the right place. But something fundamental had shifted around me.
Never in a million years would I have expected something to have happened to Marcus.
He was a little rat, but he knew a lot. I could only guess that he’d ended up knowing too much, and because of that, he was moved on …
Maybe to another borough, or even another city.
I liked the idea of him working in a different decrepit little store more than the idea of him having been murdered.
Me and Marcus weren’t friends, but he didn’t deserve to die.
I nodded once before turning and getting the hell out of there.
Things were moving faster now than I could keep track of, and it felt like the whole foundation of my world was shifting.
The new bodega guy could be another informant, or he could be working for a gang, or even placed there specifically to keep an eye on me.
Maybe later I’d try to figure out what was going on, but for now, I needed to stay focused on my own problems.
I took the subway to Midtown and jogged out of the station and into a hotel a few blocks from the Port Authority Bus Terminal.
The TripAdvisor reviews had been atrocious, so I wasn’t expecting much, but the room didn’t even meet my low expectations.
The wallpaper was peeling, the carpet was worn, and when I stuck my head into the bathroom, I found a dirty shower and chipped tiles.
I could have headed to the safehouse apartment in Harlem, but the thought of going back there made me feel physically sick.
I’d have to face it eventually – hopefully when I was in a better place emotionally and psychologically.
Right now I needed to keep my mind clear, my emotions stable, and to stay laser-focused on doing the serious reconnaissance needed before I broke into Wilson’s house.
The dingy hotel room was perfect for that.
I set up my iPad on the scarred desk and logged on to a private server before searching his address.
I spent the next few hours researching the house and the area.
An online listing, from when a house on the same street had been sold a couple of years ago, offered a floorplan.
I compared those floorplans to another, much older realtor’s listing, and it confirmed my suspicion that all the houses along the street had been built to the same specification.
That meant the bedroom, bathroom and living spaces had a similar layout, and I could get an insight into what Wilson’s whole house looked and felt like before I went back inside.
My last visit to Wilson’s house had been brief, and in my messed-up mental state I hadn’t been paying a huge amount of attention to my surroundings.
I hadn’t been allowed into any of the rooms other than Wilson’s office, but I’d been left with an impression of scale and space, of lavishly decorated rooms, and art and antiques out on display.
The last place I’d seen the trinket box was in Wilson’s office, so it made the most sense to start there and work outwards. I knew he kept a safe in that room, and if I had infinite time, I could try to crack it, though I really hoped it wouldn’t come to that.
The other details I couldn’t ignore were Wilson’s comment that the trinket box was something his mom would like, plus Marcus’s gossip that Mrs Wilson was currently staying with her son.
That gave me some direction. She would have her own bedroom, maybe even a family room or parlor that she was using during her visit, so I’d make sure to check those out too.
Around three a.m. I shut down for the night and went to wash my face in the cracked basin.
The guilt of sneaking out without saying goodbye or leaving Alice any kind of explanation was sitting heavily in my stomach.
I’d wanted to do those things, maybe even to kiss her again, but I knew that would have never flown.
Not with Alice. Even if I’d told her it was for her own good.
Instead, I’d scrawled a note – Sorry. K – and left it on the bed in my borrowed bedroom.
At least she’d know I’d gone of my own free will.
Staying awake for an extra four hours longer than usual meant I was drained by the time I crawled into the bed and an exhausted sleep enveloped me within minutes.
I slept until ten and woke up ravenously hungry. Cabs were blaring their horns outside, and I could hear a delivery truck unloading across the street. The angle of the sun meant the hotel room had become steaming hot while I slept because, of course, the AC didn’t work.
Not willing to risk the decrepit bath with its filthy tiles and crusty shower head, I washed in the sink and pulled on clothes decent enough to wear to the deli on the corner so I could pick up a bagel for breakfast before I properly started my day.
Being in the theater district was about to come in useful, because I needed more than just lock-picking tools to break into Wilson’s house.
The area he lived in would be full of CCTV – on the street, for sure, plus every house would have a Ring doorbell – so I needed to be someone else tonight.
Or to look like someone else, at the very least.
After grabbing breakfast I headed over to a store just off Bryant Park where I knew I could get what I wanted.
Despite having an unassuming storefront, inside was a theater kid’s dream.
One wall was dedicated to mannequins wearing wigs, and there was a whole section of face putty, fake noses, beards, colored contact lenses – the works.
Then there were glass cabinets full of face and body paint, and accessories like glasses in dozens of shapes and sizes.