FOURTEEN

In the mortuary's parking garage, Tess's walk became more unsteady. She was barely conscious of Craig helping her into the car, then going around and sitting behind the steering wheel. She fumbled to put on her seatbelt, again barely conscious that Craig snapped it into place for her. With unfocused eyes, she stared toward the blur of other vehicles in the dimly lit garage.

At last Craig broke the silence, coughing. 'Where shall I drive you? Home? After what you've been through… You're trembling. I don't recommend that you try to go back to work.'

Tess turned to him, blinking, only now fully aware of his presence. 'Home? Work?' She crossed her unsteady arms and pressed them hard against her chest, restraining her tremors. 'Would you…? This'll sound… Do me a favor?'

'I already promised I'd help as much as possible.'

'Take me to where he died.'

Craig furrowed his brow. 'To the park?'

'Yes.'

'But why would you…?'

Tess hugged her chest harder, wincing. 'Please.'

Craig seemed about to say something. Instead he coughed again, turned the ignition key, put the car in gear, and drove from the garage, emerging onto First Avenue, following the one-way traffic northward.

Thank you,' Tess said.

Craig shrugged.

Tomorrow, first thing, I'll make a point of telling Walter how cooperative you've been,' she said.

'Walter? Hey, you've got the wrong idea. I'm not doing this for Walter. I'm doing my job. Or have been. But at the moment, I'm doing this for you.'

'I'm sorry. I apologize.' Tess almost touched his arm. 'I didn't mean to sound insulting, as if I thought you were only paying back a debt or…'

'You didn't insult me. Don't worry about it. But I like to make sure things are clearly understood. Not many people would have done what you just went through for a man they'd only met a few times but considered a friend. Loyalty's a rare commodity. You'd be amazed how many people don't care when someone's missing. I admire your persistence – your sense of obligation – so if you tell me you want to go to the park, fine, that's where we go. The office will just have to do without me till this afternoon. Joseph Martin must have been special.'

Tess thought about it. 'Different.'

'I don't understand.'

'It's hard to explain. He had a… Sure, he was handsome. But more important, he had a kind of… magnetism. He seemed to… the only word I can think of is… he seemed to glow.' Tess raised her chin. 'And by the way, in case you've been wondering, there wasn't anything sexual between us.'

'I never suggested there was.'

'In fact, the reverse. Joseph insisted that we could only be friends, that we could never have sex.'

Craig turned to her, frowning.

'I know what you're thinking, and so did I. Wrong. He didn't say that because he was gay or anything, but because… How did he put it? He said a platonic friendship was better because it was eternal. That's how he talked. Almost poetically. Yes.' Grief squeezed Jess's throat. Sorrow cramped her heart. 'Joseph was special.'

Craig concentrated on driving but continued frowning. They crossed the intersection of Forty-Fifth Street, passing the United Nations building on the right, heading farther northward.

'So.' Tess quivered and straightened. 'What happens next?'

'After the park? I talk to Homicide and tell them we've got a tentative identification of the body.'

'Tentative? That scar is…'

'You have to realize, Homicide needs more than that to be absolutely certain. They've sent the fingerprints they managed to get from the left hand to the FBI. Even with computers, though, it can take several days for the FBI to search its files for a match to those prints, especially given the backlog of cases. But now, with a possible name for the victim, they can speed up the process, go to Joseph Martin's file, compare prints, and… Who knows? It could be the scar is coincidental. You might be wrong.'

'Don't I wish. But I'm not.' Tess felt dizzy.

'I'm just trying to give you hope.'

'And I'm afraid that hope's as rare as loyalty.'

Tess's breathing became more labored the closer they came to Eighty-Eighth Street. Tense, she watched the lieutenant steer right, cross two avenues, and just before the final one, manage to find a parking space. With greater distress, she got out of the car with him, locked it, and in hazy sunlight faced the opposite side of East End Avenue.

To the left, partially obscured by trees, was the six-foot-high, stockadelike, wooden barrier that encircled Gracie Mansion. One of the first New- York- City houses along the East River, it had been built by Archibald Gracie in 1798. Huge, with many chimneys and gables, as well as numerous verandas, it had once been the museum for the city but was now the well-guarded mayor's residence.

Straight ahead, however, compelling Tess, was the wrought-iron fence that encircled the woods and paths of Carl Schurz Park.

'You're certain you want to-?'

Before the lieutenant could finish his question, Tess clutched his arm and crossed the avenue. They passed through an open gate (a sign warned that no radios, tape players, or musical instruments were permitted between 10 p.m. and 8 a.m.) and proceeded along a brick walkway. Thick bushes flanked them. Overhanging branches of densely leaved trees cast shadows.

'Where?' Tess sounded hoarse.

The guards at Gracie Mansion saw the flames at three o'clock Sunday morning. Just about…' Craig glanced around. There.' He pointed toward a cavelike contour in a granite ridge behind bushes to his right. The mayor's guards are pros. They know, whatever happens, they don't leave their post. After all, the flames might have been a diversion, a trick intended to draw them away and expose their boss. So they called the local precinct. In the meantime, the mayor's guards saw the flames streak from here' - Craig indicated the cavelike contour, then gestured ahead past bushes toward a miniature amphitheater beyond an overhead walkway -'to there, toward that statue.'

Tass wavered, approaching the human-sized statue. It increased in definition, becoming a bronze child, knee raised, peering sideways, downward, toward the brick surface in the middle of the fifty-foot perimeter of the circular enclosure.

The statue resembled a nymph. Perversely, it reminded Tess of Peter Pan.

'And?' In the stone-lined basin, Tess heard her voice crack as she swung toward Craig.

'Remember, you asked to come here.'

'I haven't forgotten. And?'

The officers from the local precinct found… The rain had pooled on these bricks. The victim…'

'Yes, you told me. He tried to roll in the water and put out the names. Where?'

'Behind the statue, Tess.' Craig raised his hands and stepped closer. 'I don't recommend…'

'It's necessary.' Tess slowly rounded the statue.

And sank to her hips on a ledge at the statue's feet.

The contour of a man, lying sideways, his knees pulled toward his chest, had been blackened into the bricks.

'Oh.'

'I'm sorry, Tess. I didn't want to bring you here, but you kept insisting.'

With a sob, Tess stooped toward the dismal dark shape on the bricks. She touched where Joseph's heart would have been. 'Do me another favor?' Her voice broke. 'Please? Just one more favor?'

'Take you away from here?'

'No.' Tears streamed from Tess's burning eyes. Through their blur, she begged him silently.

Craig understood. He opened his arms, and sobbing harder, she welcomed his embrace.