"Something about Melantha?"

"That's what I'm wondering," Caroline said.

"In that case, I wonder if the whole evening might have been staged," he said slowly. "Something to keep us occupied while they did something with her."

Caroline thought back. "I don't think so," she said. "The family stuff seemed genuine, anyway. I'm sure the Greens have a great love for each other, both their immediate families and their people as a whole. But that doesn't mean Aleksander wouldn't lie to get what he wants. In fact, it might make it more likely that he would."

Roger was silent another five steps. "Let's assume you're right, and that they're trying to manipulate us," he said at last. "Let's further assume that they have Melantha, having either snatched her last night or found her just now. Then the first question is whether they would hide her in the city or—"

He broke off as a car suddenly roared up from behind them and squealed to a halt. Before Caroline could do more than grab Roger's arm, the door swung open and the driver hopped out, turning to glare over the car roof at them. "Police!" he called, holding out a badge. "Roger Whittier?"

"Yes," Roger said nervously. "Is there a prob—?"

"Get in," the cop cut him off, gesturing emphatically toward the back door.

"Wait a second," Roger protested. "What are you charging us with?"

"You're not being charged—yet," the other said. "You're wanted as material witnesses."

"Witnesses to what?" Caroline asked, her heart suddenly pounding in her throat. Melantha? No—

please not Melantha.

"Detective Fierenzo has disappeared," the cop bit out. "He may have been murdered."

24

"According to witnesses, the screaming started about an hour ago," Detective Powell said, swiveling one of the interrogation room's plain wooden chairs around and sitting down straddling it, his forearms resting on the back. "It was accompanied by the sounds of someone hammering their way through several sections of sidewalk. The whole thing lasted maybe ten minutes before someone called it in and we got out there. By then, Detective Fierenzo was gone."

"And no one in the station heard any of it?" Roger asked.

Powell shook his head disgustedly. "They definitely didn't hear the screams. If they heard the hammering, they took it for something else and ignored it." His eyes bored into Roger's. "But from the descriptions, it sounds a lot like the stuff that went down by your friends' apartment in Yorkville yesterday evening."

"It does, doesn't it?" Roger agreed heavily, a cold chill running through him. So that was it. The battle lines had been drawn, and the war had begun. With or without Melantha, it had begun. Was that in fact the urgent communication that Caroline had detected from Aleksander? That the fragile peace had finally been shattered?

Or worse, did it mean Aleksander himself had cold-bloodedly ordered the war to begin? "You said the screaming started before the shots?" he asked.

"That's what two of the witnesses said," Powell said, eyeing him closely. "The others weren't sure. Is it important?"

"I don't know," Roger said. "It might be."

Powell hitched his chair a couple of inches closer. "Try me."

"I don't have anything solid," Roger hedged, throwing a quick glance at Caroline's pale face across the table. "This may be part of a—well, sort of a gang war."

"Between the Greens and the Grays?"

"Possibly," Roger conceded. "Like I said, I don't know anything for sure."

"What about Fierenzo?" Powell persisted. "What happened to him?"

"Are you sure something did happen to him?" Caroline asked.

"His gun was found at the scene," Powell told her. "His car's still parked nearby, and there's no answer at either his apartment or cell phones."

He shifted his glare back to Roger. "And we found traces of blood at the scene that match his type.

Why is it important whether the screams or cracked concrete came first?"

"It might tell us who started the fight," he said. "But if the witnesses aren't sure, it doesn't help."

Powell grunted. "Who were you visiting this evening?"

"A couple named Vasilis and Iolanthe," Roger told him. There was no point in waffling on that one; a simple canvass of the building would pinpoint the Greens' apartment quickly enough.

"Friends?"

"New acquaintances," Roger said. "They invited us to dinner."

"Anybody at this party make any phone calls?"

In spite of the seriousness of the situation, Roger had to suppress a smile at that one. Checking out the phones was a time-honored police method for ferreting out links between suspects. Unfortunately for them, the technique was useless against Greens. "I didn't see anyone use a phone while I was there," he said truthfully.

For a moment Powell eyed him in silence. "You know, Roger, we've been assuming you and your wife were more or less innocent bystanders who got dropped into this situation," he said at last. "But that assumption could change at any time."

"We haven't lied to you," Caroline said.

"You haven't told the whole truth, either," Powell countered. "And you might want to bear in mind that complicity in a police officer's murder carries the death penalty in New York."

Roger felt his skin prickle. "We were all the way across the city when Detective Fierenzo disappeared," he said, fighting to keep his voice calm. "That other cop—Smith—was watching the building the whole time."

Powell shrugged. "You're the legal expert," he said. "But if I were you, I might take another look at the laws concerning conspiracy and obstruction."

With an effort, Roger met his gaze. "Are you charging us?" he asked. "If not, we're leaving."

Again, Powell let the silence hang in the air a few seconds. Then his lips puckered slightly. "Have a good evening," he said, gesturing toward the door.

They had to pass by the site of the attack on their way home. It was like a replay of the previous night, Roger thought morosely as he gazed at the bright lights and the purposeful men and women looking for clues.

Experienced investigators with nothing to investigate. However the Grays' hammerguns worked, Roger's experience with them had already shown they left no bullets or other evidence behind. The Greens' Shriek was by its very nature impossible to analyze after the fact. And once again there was no body left at the scene.

Only this time it wasn't a Green body that had melted quietly into the bushes. This was the body of a human police officer.

"You think Fierenzo accidentally walked into the middle of a skirmish?" he asked Caroline quietly.

"Doesn't seem likely," she said. "Both sides have gone to a lot of effort to keep their existence a secret. I would think they'd cut and run if someone showed up, especially a police officer."

"Unless that's why they made off with him afterward, either alive or dead," Roger pointed out. "In fact, that could be what Aleksander was so hot and bothered about back at the park. Maybe what you were picking up was him trying to figure out how to cover over the mess."

"Maybe," Caroline murmured. "But if they decided Fierenzo knew too much, what does that say about us?"

Roger felt a shiver run up his back. "They did let us go," he pointed out.

"Because Smith was watching the building," she said. "I wonder if we should stay away from our apartment."

"Or should get out of Dodge completely," Roger said grimly. "Unfortunately, both sides seem perfectly capable of finding us anytime they want."

"Yes," Caroline agreed, her voice suddenly sounding odd.

He glanced at her. She was staring straight ahead, an intense look on her face. "What is it?" he asked.

"Aleksander wants Melantha to destroy the Grays so that the Greens can stay in Manhattan," she said slowly. "Right?"