P is for Poison

Chapter 1

Mel

“Take …convince her to go Below.”

Joe Maxwell’s words from earlier that evening continued to swirl through Vincent’s mind. It had been both a demand and a plea; an echo of his own misgivings of late. Visions of blood and flashes of gold had kept him awake. Had he been sensing danger over the past week? He had tried to deny it, but now it seemed very possible.

“The man seems to be compulsive, Vincent. He got loose tonight, and he wants her.”

Vincent swallowed hard. Compulsive. The word brought painful memories of a lost boy whose compulsions had become a desire for retribution which had almost succeeded. The lost child had taken the lives of three old friends and had nearly taken a fourth.

It had been Diana who had reached out a hand to save the scared boy within the man. When that had failed, she’d shifted her focus to the man who was the spirit of the community Below. A man who could be saved. A man Vincent had always called Father.

“We will find him I promise.”

Vincent tried to keep his pace even. He knew how easily and quickly those very words could turn into a lie; a false hope. He forced his himself to think of other things.

Almost like a tether, he sensed his son, Jacob, playing by himself. Joyful energy radiated from the toddler like the sun itself. Though Vincent would never give such thoughts a voice, it had taken a while for him to see past the harsh glare of pain that had surrounded Jacob’s birth and his beloved Catherine’s death. He would not trade such a wonderful joy for anything in the world, Above or Below.

A joy he owed in large part to Diana Bennett. Young Jacob was the embodiment of Vincent and Catherine’s love. A miracle beyond compare. Catherine had given him the breath of life, but Diana had helped to give the child the possibility of a safe life. The young detective had even saved Vincent from the darkness of grief and pain, which had threatened to consume him the longer he failed to find his son.

And now it appeared she needed his help.

Sharp blue eyes peered over at the woman who walked beside him. She had donned a green jacket over a gray sweater; the well-worn fabric had come undone to reveal the white shirt she wore beneath. She had paired it with a pair of worn and faded blue jeans. Her mane of red hair had been pulled back into a loose ponytail.

The narrow tunnel passages made them walk close together. Still, he noticed the respectable distance she kept from him. Even after all they had been through together, Diana continued to keep a tiny space between them as if stepping closer tainted Catherine’s memory. Something Vincent knew, almost by instinct, Diana would never do with intention.

 “Are you all right?” Diana asked.

Vincent swallowed. “Yes… just thinking.”

“About?”

He glanced at her apprehensively. He had never lied to her, but he knew without words that if he told her of the possible chaos which now swirled above them, she would refuse Joe’s order… request to hide. In some form, he was surprised that she hadn’t instantly known his purpose for coming this night and asking her Below for a mini vacation while she had time off. Her mind and powerful imagination had been able to deduce much smaller things from the killers she hunted. She was the huntress who brought evil men to justice. She would never allow herself to be prey.

But tonight, she remained silent, waiting for an answer.

Vincent shifted. “I’m just glad you accepted my offer to come. It has been a while since you came.”

“I know. I’m sorry about that, but the last case was a tough one to crack.”

Vincent nodded. Though there was no magical link between them as he had shared with Catherine, he had a fair sense of how much of a toll her cases took on her body and soul when she was deep in the work. Over the past three years, he had seen Diana’s work process. Diving into the darkest and most twisted of minds to know their methods and motives so that she could use those very things against them. It was a task she embraced willingly, but it had left deep, invisible scars all the same.

His only solace was that she rarely dealt with the criminals face to face. Like him, she watched justice being brought forth from the safety of shadows and obscurity. Except twice she had stepped into the light to face the monsters she fought. Once had been to save him and his son from the monster Gabriel. Vincent had been set to strike the last blow, to tear the monster’s heart out with his own claws. But, at the last minute, Diana had called him back, her voice breaking through the haze of revenge. She had taken the task from him without comment, killing the monster that had destroyed Vincent’s world.

The next time it had been a case Diana had barely had the heart to tell him about. He could only sense her desire to have the man… beast put away for good. And now it seemed the beast wanted another chance to fight. Neither she nor Joe had given a solid description of the man, or Vincent was certain he would have been on the hunt himself. But for now, he needed to trust others. Joe and the police would find the devil, and Diana would get the break she deserved.

“My sister wanted me to spend some time with her.” Diana shifted the old green duffle bag she had insisted on carrying herself. “But I had some filing I had to get done. That’s what I was doing before you came.”

“I thought you said you were on a break.”

“Filing is relaxing,” She retorted with the tiniest smile. “For me anyway. And you’re sure this is okay?”

Vincent nodded to himself. “You’re a Helper… more than that, Diana. I…”

“So, what am I then?”

Vincent blinked.

Diana turned to face him. “You said I’m more than a helper… so what I am? An associate, a colleague, or a guest?”

Vincent smiled gently. Of course, she would catch even such a tiny slip. “I regret I do not have an answer yet. But rest assured, Diana, whatever word you use, it is more than allowed that you are here.”

He caught the raw and rare twinkle in her greenish blue gaze. The soft glow from the white lights set along the pipes caught her mane of red hair. Red, blue, and flickers of green all the colors one might catch in a fire glowed within Diana. Vincent would need to be careful not to get burned if she discovered his minor deception.

“Would Father approve?”

Vincent turned to her. “Our world is open to all who need it as a home or a place to rest.”

“The tunnels kept warm by friends,” Diana finished, looking up at him. Her lips twitched in a tiny smile.

Vincent gave a half smile at the remembered offer he had made to her when they had parted after his son’s naming ceremony. Back then it had been a genuine offer of friendship and gratitude for everything Diana had done. Now it felt like a secret plea. If she had refused his offer tonight; he had planned to camp out on her roof until the danger had passed.

“I know Father… and Jacob will love to see you.” His gaze lowered to the ground. “And Father is not doing that well.”

“How bad is he?” The question was simultaneously empathic and inquisitive. Diana in a nutshell.

“We are not certain. I have sent one of the children to ask Peter to come, but he will not be there until tomorrow.”

Diana nodded. “And where is little Jacob?”

“In the nursery with the other toddlers. Mary and Jamie are watching them.”

“Jamie?”

Vincent nodded. The further they went the safer he felt. “Yes, it seems even Jamie isn’t immune to Jacob’s charms.”

Diana smiled. “Who could be?”

Vincent smiled in turn with a fatherly pride he had never expected to experience. “Indeed, I…”

“Daddy…Diana!” a voice called.

The pair turned just as a young boy crashed into his father’s legs, a piece of paper clutched in his hands. Dark blonde curls covered the child’s head as he buried his face in his father’s leg.

Footsteps sounded down the hall. “Jacob, you silly… Oh, Vincent. I’m sorry I tried to get him to sleep, but…”

“I wanted to see you, Daddy,” the boy cut in.

Vincent smiled. “It’s okay, Jamie. I can take him from here.”

The girl nodded and left after a quick goodnight to the trio.

Vincent stepped back and knelt beside his son. “You know better than to run off like that, Jacob.”

Jacob pouted briefly, but then waved the piece of paper he held. “I want to show you this. I made a picture.”

Vincent gently took the paper. “This is wonderful, Jacob.”

 “Can I show this to Lizibeth?”

Vincent smiled. “I’m sure she would love that, Jacob.”

The little boy jumped and hugged his father.

“Who is Lizibeth, Jake?” Diana asked as they resumed walking.

Jacob turned his head to her. “She’s the painting lady.”

“I see. Well, I would love to meet her.”

 “Perhaps tomorrow.” Vincent adjusted the toddler in his arms. “We have to get you ready for bed. Where is Grandpa?”

The boy looked down. “Grandpa’s sleeping.”

“Well, sleep is good for both of you. Can I see your picture?” The boy nodded and handed it over. Diana studied the crayon drawing for a moment. “Jake, you could be artist one day you know.”

Jacob looked at Diana. “No… Grandpa wants me to be doctor.”

“Who says you have to do one or the other, you can do both.”

The child looked up at his father. “I can?”

“Of course you can.” Vincent stared at his son’s perfect… normal face. His mother had given him a precious gift. A chance to embrace and be embraced by the world Above when he was older. For now, he wanted nothing more than to keep his son near.

Vincent held out his hand with a smile. “But doctors and artists still need to rest. Shall we go back to bed?”

Jacob failed to stifle a yawn. “Not… tired… Is Diana staying, Daddy?”

“You can ask her yourself, Jacob.”

The child turned to her. “Are you staying, Diana?”

Diana shrugged, playfully. “I’m not sure, kiddo.”

Jacob looked down. “Then why… you have a bag with you.”

She shifted the bag again and tweaked his nose. “You clever one to catch that. We might need to add detective to your job list. An artist, a doctor, and a detective… that will keep you very busy.”

“I like being busy.”

Diana and Vincent exchanged a fond look.

“Are you staying, Diana?” Jacob asked again.

“If you’ll have me.”

“You can stay… the bad man-Ah!” The child squealed with delight as Vincent swung him around and carried him back off to bed.

f

Over the next three days, Vincent and Diana explored the tunnels with and without Jacob. It soon became clear Diana had found a favorite place in the painted tunnels. Vincent watched as Diana sat or stood beside Elizabeth as she worked. Where Catherine desired poems and tales of romance and far off lands, Diana enjoyed true stories. Gaining insight into others and the complex history of human life. For his part, he felt both uneasy and calmer to be closer to the upper levels. He had given Joe a name of a Helper who could reach him through the tapped code the community used if something came up. But so far, the pipes had remained silent on that front.

“So, you use that dye to make the paint?” Diana asked.

“Yes. When I run low.” Elizabeth dapped her brush against the wall. “Can never count on a consistent supply around here.”

“I can imagine.” Diana stared at one of the paintings. “Was this meant to be that tower Elliot Burch wanted to build?”

Elizabeth started. She brushed aside a stray hair of white. “How did you know?”

Vincent smiled softly. It seemed Diana’s special talent to pick up on the tiniest details anyone else overlooked.

“The skyline is the same as where Burch wanted to build the ugly thing,” Diana commented.

“Ah, well I take your word on it, dear girl,” Elizabeth said.

“Excuse me, Elizabeth. Diana, are you ready for dinner?” Vincent asked after a moment.

“Yes.” Diana turned to the older woman. “Would you like anything, Elizabeth?”

“Oh, thank you, girl, but no. I have everything I need right here.”

Diana nodded and turned to Vincent. “So, where were you today?”

"I was..." Vincent paused. Joe's warning and lack of response about the crazed man kept him silent. His thoughts floundering for purchase under Diana's questioning gaze. "I... just making some rounds for security." 

Diana raised an eyebrow. 

"What is it?" 

"Nothing, just you seem to be doing that a lot lately. And I didn't come down here only to admire…"

Vincent shifted. "Well... in truth I just needed some time to myself." 

Diana waved away the comment.

"What are we having tonight?" Diana asked instead. 

Vincent felt his shoulders relax at the turn of conversation. "I'm not certain..." 

Diana smiled and let Vincent escort her to the dining hall.

Children and adults mingled and ate buffet style, not unlike Winterfest. Though the number was greatly reduced when it was just those who called the tunnels their home, a formal sit-down meal was still not a good system. Vincent secured Diana some punch and helped her to her seat. Conversation flowed easily as the two adults ate a meal of rich beef stew.

Vincent smiled. “You don’t need to worry. Elizabeth is fine on her own. William makes certain she gets food.”

“What makes you think I’m worried?”

Vincent gestured to the thermos Diana held. “We have other ways to keep the food warm.”

“Ah… so are you a detective now too?”

“No, but…” His gaze rose to somewhere over her head. “Excuse me, Diana. Peter is here.”

Diana nodded and watched Vincent wander off. The plastic cup twirled in her hands as she thought back on the days she had spent Below. Joe Maxwell and Vincent had been right. A break was just what she needed. She could not remember the last time she had been so content.

“Can I have some juice, Diana?”

Diana started and then looked down at young Jacob. “Oh…yeah. You don’t need to ask.” She pointed off to the right toward the punch table. “You can go get some.”

Jacob shook his head. “No more left.”

Diana politely excused herself and led him back over the table. All the cups had been taken, and round punch bowl sat empty.

“Hm…you’re right kiddo.”

“Cause I’m a detective.”

Diana smiled. “Is that what it is? Well, you’re right. Is William around?”

“He’s in the kitchen.” Jacob licked his lips. “Can I have yours… I’m really thirsty.”

Diana handed him the cup. “Sure. I’ll go get William to bring out some more.”

“Thanks, Diana.”

Diana watched with a half-smile as the child dashed back over to his friends. She stood and made her way back into the kitchen. William shook his head at her request claiming he needed to save the other punch for tomorrow.

“But… for the little prince.” The ginger-haired cook poured a fresh cup. “He can have one more.”

Diana smiled. “You’re spoiling the little guy.”

William beamed. “What are uncles for?”

“I suppose. Thank you.”

William gave a small wave as Diana departed the kitchen. How many family uncles, aunts, and cousins would little Jacob have? It might even put the Bennett clan to shame.

She wove her way through the throng. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Vincent conversing with Peter Alcott. She hoped Father’s issues were something the old doctor could fix.

“Diana,” Jacob called.

Diana turned and moved over to the child. “Jake, look what I got… are you okay?”

Jacob shook his head, pressing his right hand to his stomach. “I feel… funny.”

In an instant, Vincent was beside his son. Jacob stood still as Vincent checked him for any injuries. “How do you feel, Jacob?”

The child shook his head.

“No fever.” Diana felt his forehead and then wrapped her arm around the child. “I think it’s just upset stomach. I can take him to bed. Would you like that?”

Jacob nodded, leaning against her. Exhaustion and unease were clear on his face as Diana scooped him up into her arms.

Vincent nodded. He suppressed the urge to call Peter. Children got stomachaches all the time. “I’ll be right behind you.”

His eyes moved to the cups Diana and his son had set aside. Carefully, he picked them up and sniffed. One cup was filled almost to the middle and smelled like plain punch. A fresh cup.

But the other….

His heightened sense of smell picked up an odd scent though it was barely notable beneath the fruity punch. Perhaps he was just overly tired. Jacob would be fine. The sugar had probably been too much for his stomach at this late hour. With all the children around, William made sure to keep the stronger adult drinks and the simple punch on separate tables at the opposite ends of the hall. But no one else had fallen sick, and he had seen enough sugar highs to know it wasn’t the same. Perhaps young Jacob’s abilities had sensed something was off with the drink before he drank too much.

Vincent stilled, unable to stop his mind from conjuring the worst. No one would dream of harming young Jacob. He was the new light to the whole community. And none of the sentries had warned of an intruder. Could it mean that the initial target had been someone else?

He studied the cup briefly and raised his gaze to where Diana had just vacated trying to soothe the child as she took him back to his chamber. He had seen the young detective offer her own cup to the child. A thing she would never have done if it were anything other than innocent punch.

Chills ran down his spine. The plastic cup crushed with little effort beneath his claws; the red punch flowed like blood over his fingers. Fear for his son, though he seemed only sick to the stomach, and Diana coursed through him. He had thought the evil was Above, but it seemed fate had a different, cruel, idea in mind. But who would wish to harm her? And how had they done it?

“Vincent?”

Q

Chapter 2

CB

Vincent turned to find William looking worried.

“Is everything OK?” the cook asked.

Thinking it better not to alarm William, Vincent smiled. “With your stew? Better than OK.” Not to sound like Mouse.

“Jacob looked unhappy…”

“Jacob got into far too much candy before supper.”

“Candy before MY stew? Sacrilege!”

“Indeed.”

By the time Vincent reached his chambers, Diana was holding a bowl for Jacob to throw up into. Vincent knelt by the boy’s cot and saw that his face was slick with sweat.

“Hurts, Daddy,” the little boy said.

“Peter…” Vincent said as he spun to his feet and out of the room. He found Peter still in the dining hall. Resting a hand on his shoulder, he said, “I think I need you to look at Jacob.”

“Let’s go,” said Peter. He turned to Kipper. “Would you be good enough to fetch my bag from Father’s study? Try not to wake him.”

By the time Kipper appeared with the bag, Peter had checked Jacob’s pulse and was palpating his little tummy. The first thing he retrieved from the bag was a thermometer.

“He’s all red and sweaty,” he finally said. “But he doesn’t have a fever.” He wasn’t hiding a worried frown as the little boy started to dry-heave again.

Vincent sighed. “I inspected the punch cup that he drank from,” he finally said. “It didn’t smell right.”

“The first one? Or the one I gave him?” Diana asked.

“The one you gave him.”

“Come to think of it, it didn’t taste like usual.”

“How do you feel?” Peter asked her. “How much of it did you drink?”

“Less than half.” She hesitated before she said the next: “And I’m feeling sweaty.”

“Nausea?”

“A little. My heart’s kinda pounding.”

“Sit down. I’m taking your blood pressure.” After he took her blood pressure, Peter poked through his bag for a smaller cuff and took Jacob’s. “You’re both running high. Lie down, Diana.” He pointed at Vincent’s bed in the other chamber.

By this time, Mary had come in. Peter nodded to her and said, “I think he’d do well with half of a promethazine suppository, Mary. And do you still have some labetalol in the infirmary?”

“Yes, I think so. I’ll be back.”

“They’ve been poisoned,” Vincent said heavily.

“That’s a stretch,” Diana said. “We could have gotten something spoiled. It was the bottom of the batch.”

“She’s right enough that we should see if anyone else is feeling off,” Peter said.

Mary returned with a box and a pill bottle. Peter handed Diana a glass of water and a pill. “This should help the heart rate and the blood pressure,” he said. “Let me know if the nausea gets worse.”

 “Do you think anyone else might be sick?” Mary asked.

“We were just saying,” said Peter. “We might as well put an alert on the pipes and have people come to the infirmary.”

“All right,” said Mary, and she stepped into the passage to tap on the pipes. She returned, saying, “I imagine Jacob’s blood pressure will come down after we give the suppository, don’t you?” She didn’t wait for Peter to answer before she disappeared into Jacob’s room to administer said suppository.

Peter smiled. “Sometimes I wonder what she needs me for.” He looked down at Diana. “You might feel a little sleepy with that, Diana. Maybe you should come to the infirmary with me before you drop off.”

She sat up with a droll smile. “Lie down, Diana. Get up, Diana. Make up your mind.” She waved at a worried Vincent as Peter led her from the room.

f

Diana was awakened by the morning chatter on the pipes. She looked around to see Peter ensconced in the recliner that had been donated to the infirmary for occasions like this.

“You’re still here?” she said.

“Well, Father is under the weather, so I thought I’d better stay. And William promised me pancakes.”

She chuckled. “Anyone else show up sick?”

“No. And that’s a little disturbing.”

“Gives more credence to Vincent’s worries.”

Peter nodded. Before he let her sit up, he took her blood pressure. “It’s just fine.”

“Shortest problem I’ve dealt with in weeks,” she said. “Hey. Is Father OK?”

Peter made a face. “Gallstones. Again,” he said. “But you didn’t hear it from me.”

“Ouch. Doesn’t that mean surgery?”

“Usually. And these days, it’s not a big deal – tiny incision, only one night in the hospital. But you talk him into going Above for it.”

“There’s a diet thing you can do, right?”

“Yup. Absolutely no fat. Forever.”

“Yeah, that’ll work.” She tried to run her fingers through her hair. “Why don’t I meet you in Jacob’s room? I need to comb this and brush teeth and so forth.”

“Fine. I’ll see you there.”

She arrived at Vincent and Jacob’s chambers in time to see a small blonde rocket race into the tunnel. He skidded to a stop in front of Diana, shouting “G’morning!”

She scooped him up into a hug. “No more tummy ache, I see.”

“Nope!” He squirmed out of her arms and ran off towards the children’s room. Diana proceeded to find Peter and Vincent in Jacob’s alcove.

She smiled back at them. “I think he looks a little better,” she said.

Peter chuckled. “Kids. They’re pretty resilient.”

“You look better, too,” said Vincent.

“I’m fine.”

Peter stepped through the curtains into the main chamber as Vincent started to frown. “I think we need to consider that this was deliberate. And the dose wasn’t meant for Jacob at all,” he said quietly.

“Who would want to poison me here?”

“How would someone from Above find you here?”

“That’s why I’m down here, isn’t it?”

She held his startled gaze with raised eyebrows. Before he could recruit an answer, they heard a young voice in the other room.

“Doctor, uh, Peter?”

“Yes. Brittney, isn’t it?”

Silently, Diana and Vincent drifted to the sides of the curtains, so they could peek through to the other room. A young girl of about twelve stood in the door, wringing her hands. An observant person might have noticed feet at the bottom of the curtains, but Brittney didn’t look like she was paying much attention to her surroundings. From both their realms of experience, the girl looked like the personification of guilt. Peter walked over to her, and she had to turn, so she wasn’t facing the curtains.

“Is… is Jacob OK?” she asked.

“He’s fine. Just a tummy ache.”

“Is Diana OK?”

“What’s wrong with Diana?”

Startled, Brittney looked up.

Rabbit in headlights, Diana thought. What is going on here?

“She’s OK?” Brittney persisted.

“She’s fine. Honey, is there something you want to tell me?”

“No! No. I was just worried about Jacob. He’s so cute…”

Peter sat in a chair and motioned Brittney to do the same. “Something’s bothering you, sweetie. You can tell me.”

“It’s just, everyone’s been so good to me here.”

“Yes?”

And Vincent looks so unhappy all the time.”

“He’s had a hard time since Catherine died.” Peter still hesitated before that last word, vainly hoping it wouldn’t catch at his heart as it always did.

“I never knew Catherine,” said Brittney. “I came after. But I noticed that he looks, well, better when Diana’s here. And maybe she feels the same. But he’d never… And she needs to push him, you know?”

Diana surprised herself by covertly looking around for a route of escape. Of course, there wasn’t one. She didn’t dare look at Vincent.

“I’ve heard about things…”

“What things?”

Now the girl was very red, and casting looks at the door. But she’d have to get past Peter to get out. “Things to make people love each other.”

“You mean, like a love potion? Honey, those don’t exist.”

“Well, yeah, they do. I found one at a 7-11.”

“Show me,” Peter said imperiously.

Brittney dug through her pockets and produced a small bottle with a dropper top. She hesitated to hand it over but ultimately gave it to him.

“I thought that if Diana’s inhibitions were lowered, they could get together, and Vincent would be happier. And she loves Jacob so much, and...” She stopped when she saw Peter’s frown.

“So this was meant for Diana?” He watched the girl’s miserable nod. “But Jacob got part of it.” Another nod.

He leaned forward. The girl leaned back. “OK,” he said. “To begin with, this stuff has nothing to do with inhibitions. Its actual function is to improve things for a man. And it has no effect on emotion at all. Not only that, if he uses too much, it can give a man a seizure, a stroke or heart attack.”

She stared at him in horror. “Jacob?”

“He’s fine. He didn’t get enough to do more than give him a tummy ache, but if he’d had the whole dose, there would have been a lot of trouble.”

The girl was crying, now, large tears rolling down her cheeks as she tried not to sob. Peter handed her his handkerchief and watched for a minute. She didn’t see him cast a glance at the curtains and shake his head a bit. “I’m glad you came to me,” he said. “We were about to get very worried that someone wants to hurt Diana.”

“Oh, NO!” she exclaimed. “We all LOVE Diana! She’s so cool…” And then she started to cry in earnest.

“You know I’m going to have to tell Father about this?”

She nodded. “Just don’t tell THEM!”

“I’ll do what I can. I’ll tell Father you’ll come to see him after lunch, all right?”

Looking like she’d rather drink battery acid, Brittney nodded. But she took a deep breath, wiped her eyes and handed Peter back his damp handkerchief. “Thank you,” she said. “Can I go, now?”

“Yes, you MAY go.” She smiled at the normality of adult nit-picking and stood. He stood, too, holding out his arms. She nearly jumped into his hug. “Your heart was in the right place,” he said, patting her shoulder. “But you can’t make someone love someone. And you shouldn’t really interfere in other people’s business. Even if they need it. They have to find their own way. Poisoning them doesn’t help.”

“I wasn’t!...”

“I know. And that leads to the next lesson. Research, dear girl. Don’t believe everything you read on pretty bottles.”

“I couldn’t find anything in the classroom library.”

He held her out at arm’s length. “There’s a reason for that. Now, shoo.”

“OK.” She shooed.

Peter sat back down and chuckled to himself.

“It isn’t funny,” Vincent said as he left Jacob’s room.

“I’m not as much amused as relieved,” Peter said. “The things kids think up…”

Diana emerged then. “What did she use?” Peter handed her the bottle. It was a pretty thing, with swirling colors on the label announcing, “Nature’s Answer!”. “Responsibly wildcrafted herbal blend with Yohimbe bark”? she read. “Wildcrafting?”

“God knows what else is in there, but the Yohimbe is probably what got you. The hypertension and the sweating, you know.”

“And all that does what, exactly?”

“It’s to overcome impotence.”

“And that’s worth dying for,” she groused. It wasn’t a question, and neither male in the room met her eyes. She handed Peter the bottle. “At least we don’t have to beef up the sentries.”

“About that…” Vincent began.

She waved a hand. “We can talk about that later. Right now, I want pancakes.” She headed for the passageway and stopped. “And please note: I am cool.”

Chuckling, Peter followed her. Vincent, for his part, seemed not to have much to say. But he seemed quite thoughtful.

f

The next day, a message came for Diana to meet Joe at Henry Pei’s restaurant in Chinatown. “This’ll be good,” she groused.

Joe was pacing above them in Henry’s back storeroom when they arrived. Unbeknownst to each other, they could both sense his anxiety.

“Joe!” Diana called at the bottom of the ladder. Henry had opened the grate that led below, and Joe poked his head out.

“Bennett?”

“I’m going to ask you to come down here. And close the grate after you.”

The sight of a man in a suit descending that ladder wasn’t one of the more common ones for Vincent. Joe skipped the last three rungs and hopped to the gravelly floor. “You OK?” he said. “You look OK.”

She glared at him. “You wanna me tell why I wouldn’t be?”

Chagrined, Joe tried to look to Vincent for support, but the big guy kept his face shrouded with that hood, as usual. One of these days, he was going to get the guts to demand he show his face. “Well, I guess I need to tell you that Goldenhaar escaped.”

“I figured something like that had happened,” she said. She caught his off look. “You know it’s hard to lie to me, right?” Joe didn’t miss the smirk she tossed at Vincent, who somehow looked embarrassed. How could he look embarrassed all swathed up in that cloak like that?

“Yeah, he’s loose. And this morning, we found that he’d trashed your loft. Or someone did.”

“Did he leave an acorn?’

“Yeah.” Joe kicked at the wall. “God, I’m glad you weren’t there!”

“How did you know?”

“We’ve been checking on the place every few hours. The neighbors were starting to notice, and they’re sure as hell antsy now, but do you think any of them noticed anything we could use?”

Diana huffed. “So what time parameters do we have?”

“Between 3:00 and 6:00 AM.”

“I don’t suppose you’re gonna let me go look at the place, are you?”

“What do you think? And another thing, we found a hidden surveillance camera in your place.” He said that last bit with a dark snarl, and it seemed that Vincent answered him. Maybe.

“Oh,” Diana said, “That’s mine.”

“Wha…?”

“I put one in after the Gabriel mess. It records and sends to my laptop.”

“That would be great, except we couldn’t find that or your files.”

“Those are locked up in the basement storage space.”

“You don’t say?”

The grate above their heads swung open. “You guys OK?” Lin called softly.

“Define OK,” Diana snarked.

“Oh, that sounds like you need pineapple buns. I’ll be right back.”

Joe watched her close the grate with raised eyebrows. “These are really nice people. How do you find people like that?”

“They find us,” said Vincent.

“How do they do that? It took me years to find you.”

“Not that they weren’t watching you,” Diana said with a smirk. Vincent’s shoulders shook a little.

“Not going there,” Joe grumbled.

“OK, look, if I promise to stay out of sight down here, can I get my laptop and files and work here?”

“Um, sure. How do I get those to you?”

“Actually, Diana, we have an entrance into your basement,” Vincent said.

She glared at him. “You do?”

“It’s just impossible for me to get from there to your loft.”

“Damn,” she said under her breath.

“So can we go there now?” Joe said, not a little intrigued by the idea of trekking through the Tunnels.

“Better I meet you there. Just you,” Diana said. “How many people are still on site?”

Joe looked uncomfortable. “Forensics is still there. Will be for a while…”

“Holy Hell, what did he do?”

“What didn’t he do? And unless he knew to cut the feed to the camera, we may get to watch him do it.”

“OK, so there’s a chance he’s watching you guys. You better take some take-out back to them to cover up.”

“Cover what?”

“What’s your excuse for coming here?”

“Yeah. Food for the crew.”

Just then, Lin reappeared. “Catch!” she said.

Joe caught a warm, fragrant bag. He couldn’t resist opening it and extracting a bun. He passed the bag to Diana before taking a bite. “Oh, wow, that’s good! Ms. Pei, can you put together a take-out lunch for about six people? I’ll come up and take it with me.”

“Sure! And it’s Lin.” And Lin’s pretty face disappeared.

“So when do I meet you?” Joe asked.

Diana looked over at Vincent. “We can probably make it in about 45 minutes,” he said.

“That’s walking?” Joe said. “It’ll take me nearly that in a cab. Give me an hour, then. I’ll find a reason to get to the basement.”

“When you get there, find a pipe or metal strut and rap on it three times. That’s how she’ll know to come out,” said Vincent. He held the bag out to Joe.

“No, thanks, I’ve got plenty to schlep as it is,” he said. He started back up the ladder before stopping to look at Diana. “Be careful,” he said.

“Same to you. And, oh…”

“What?”

“Can you get me a cell phone?”

He laughed at the irony.

An hour later, Joe found his way to the basement and wandered through the rabbit warren until he found a row of narrow doors, each with a unit name on it. (‘Shoulda turned right instead of left,’ he grumbled to himself.) Then he realized that the fourth door was open. No laptop was in sight. Swearing like a sailor, he dug in his pocket for a quarter and tapped hard on a pipe.

Not a minute later, he heard a soft step, and Diana’s face appeared around a corner. “Hey,” she whispered.

He gestured unhappily at the open storage unit.

“Yeah, that was me,” she said. “Go ahead and close it. I’ve got everything I need.”

She led him around two more turns to a trap door. “Down here,” she said. And Joe went climbing down another ladder.

The laptop was open on top of a file box, with a video on pause. Diana sat on the ground, and wincing inwardly at a cleaning bill, Joe followed suit. She tapped a key, and the video jumped to life. It was Goldenhaar, all right, and they watched him toss all the contents of her kitchen cabinets onto the floor.

Diana winced. “That was Mom’s china,” she said. “Good thing my sister has the good stuff.”

They watched Goldenhaar rip her couch open with a nasty-looking knife. “You don’t want to know what he did in the bedroom,” Joe said. “Can I get a copy of this?”

She popped a floppy out of the machine and handed it to him. Just once, he wanted to be ahead of her.

Goldenhaar picked up a chair and shoved it through the TV. “You do have insurance?” Joe said.

Diana nodded, eyes glued to the screen. “So far, all he’s doing is being destructive.”

“He saved the good stuff for the bed and bath,” Joe said.

“OK. Ew.” She turned off the video.

“So, what does he do next?” Joe asked.

She stopped to think, seemingly staring into space until he realized she was looking at Vincent. “Unless he finds my sister’s address, he’s hit a dead end,” she said.

“I talked to the precinct out there. They have units on her house, fore and aft and the family is staying in the house until further notice.”

“No,” she said. “They should leave and disperse. I know it means more people to watch them, but he has less interest in individuals. He wants entire family units. If he can’t get one, he may move on. And I know they make good bait, but I draw the line at my sister.”

“OK.”

“He’s not just out to satisfy his needs for amusement. He’s on a vendetta.”

“Against you?”

“All of us. Me. The arresting officer. You. You’d be a big target.”

“Yay.”

“That means your Mom.”

“Shit.”

“But, you know, we’d expect someone to do that. He’s going to think up something else. Not that we shouldn’t protect every flank we’ve got, but I think he’s going to go way outside the box.”

“This one’s pissing me off,” Joe said. He dug in his pocket and handed her a phone. “The code is ‘sofa stuffing.’”

“Pfft,” she said.

f

They found a table to make a makeshift desk in her chamber, and she had file folders all over the bed. Mouse had hovered for a bit drooling over the laptop, but Diana in work mode was not a tolerant Diana, and he beat a retreat.

Vincent found her staring at a list, frowning furiously.

“What’s this?”

“A hit list.” She caught his off glance. “My list of likeliest targets for our current problem child.”

“And you’re so frustrated because you can’t go Uptop and check them out?”

“No, I don’t need to do that. I’m just sure I’m missing something.”

“You’ll find it. I’ve yet to see you fail.”

“Yeah, that’s because I haven’t failed since we met. Which is kind of weird. Not that I’m complaining.”

“I’m sorry we tried to deceive you.”

She chuckled. “He wasn’t wrong to want me out of the way. I’ve always been the secret weapon that no one sees, and most of the department doesn’t know about. That’s why I get annoyed if the press finds my name among the people who work a case. I probably don’t even have to be in town to work. Maybe then the termite wouldn’t have wrecked my place. Damn.”

“You said you have insurance. That does help. Doesn’t it?’

“Well, yes. But it’s paperwork, and then I have to go shopping. I really don’t like shopping. Thank God for my sister.”

“Did you get a chance to talk to her?”

“Yeah. They’re fine, but she’s not happy.”

“I can imagine.” He gave a deep sigh. “About Brittney and her matchmaking…”

She stared hard at the computer screen, but he caught the blush creeping across her cheeks. “She may be more observant than the average pre-teen.”

Diana raised her hand, almost as if to wave it in his face. “You don’t have to…”

He captured the hand, and she forgot to breathe. “You are more than a Helper. To me. I am better when you’re around. I just don’t know what to do after I admit that.”

She curled her fingers around his, trying to calm her racing heart. She couldn’t blame yohimbine this time. What did he want to hear? What reassurance did he need? She met his gaze and was lost until she could tear her eyes away. “I think the next thing that happens is that I admit to wondering if you could ever feel that way. And that I’d like you to. But you know that part.”

“Yes.”

“And we allow ourselves to hold hands sometimes.”

He smiled at her and squeezed her hand. Not since high school had she been so thrilled to hold a guy’s hand. She fought an urge to send a thank-you note to Goldenhaar.

f

The newspaper articles stacked in the file folder were comprehensive. A serial killer in the Bronx had taken three toddlers in the space of three years. Steady and methodical police work had finally tracked him down and also led to his revealing two other murders of older children.

Only one article, the last one, named Detective Diana Bennett as a crucial part of the team to arrest and convict the killer. But accolades abounded, one Deputy Mayor gushing that now his citizens could rest easy at night and know their babies were safe. That was a bit florid, really.

That was four years ago. The people of the Bronx had had four years to sleep. The combined homicide departments had had four years to indulge themselves in the hubris to believe that with that man’s conviction, these cases were closed. The homicide departments of the five boroughs needed to learn that pride is a sin. Detective Diana Bennett needed to be taken down a peg.

These cases were not closed. He would reopen them and make these families pay for their belief that they had no more to give.

Smiling to himself, he walked down the street in the dark, choosing his vantage point to watch and learn the daily patterns of his first targets.

Q

Chapter 3

CINDY RAE

“Oatmeal? Again?” Father asked. “Surely I could have just a little something else?”

William rolled his eyes. “Oatmeal. Until Dr. Alcott says otherwise.”

“I did actually have it for lunch, yesterday, as well.”

“And you are actually looking better. And feeling it.”

Father sighed. He didn’t like that William was right. He also didn’t like that he’d missed out on bacon and eggs, for breakfast. Not only was bacon off his list of approved food items, but the eggs also had too much cholesterol. Father wasn’t enjoying this moderated diet.

“Thank you, William,” Father said grudgingly. “I know you’re trying to help.”

“I am helping,” William amended. “And tomorrow we’re having bran muffins. Yours will come with no butter.”

Father sighed again. “We’re sure death is worse than this?”

“I hear surgery is an option.” Saying nothing more, William turned and left the room, just as Vincent entered.

“Oatmeal again?” He asked.

Father shoved the bowl away. “My sentiments exactly.”

Vincent crossed to the table and gently pushed it back. “You look much improved. The pain is less?” Vincent asked.

“All but gone this morning. I’m hopeful that in a few days I can…”

“Eat more oatmeal, according to Peter. Father, we may need to discuss you going Above, for a day or two.”

Father picked up his spoon and stirred a meal he didn’t want. A bland diet was bad under the best of circumstances. And these were hardly that. There was a great deal in William’s pantry Father knew he couldn’t have. And only so much he could. The big chef baked with lard and cooked with oil. Canned meat was a common staple, as was peanut butter (another high cholesterol food that tended to send him abdominal spasms.) The world Below had better access to canned fruits and vegetables than fresh. Father had only so much access to a different cuisine.

“Tell me about what you and Diana have been up to,” Father prompted, more than willing to change the subject. Vincent let him have his way.

“There has been no sign of the… criminal who destroyed her apartment. Diana says they have no choice but to wait.”

“Sounds a bit… nerve-wracking,” Father allowed.

“Diana says that’s what this man is counting on. That she’ll tire of hiding, grow frustrated with it, and bored. That she’ll return to her loft, or to her job.”

“She’s holding up well, then?” Father asked. He’d barely seen the beautiful redhead, in the four days she’d been down.

“Not a bit,” Vincent replied. “Though Lin has been kind enough to run an extension cord down, so Diana can get power to the devices she uses.”

Father pondered his spoonful of oatmeal. Very bland oatmeal. Refined sugar was out of the question, temporarily. “I’m sure the police are doing all they can, to catch this… madman,” he said. “What do you think the two of you will do, today?”

“I am considering taking her with me when I go take supplies to Narcissa. She can help carry a few things.”

“You’ll leave Jacob here?”

“The trip is still too far for him. He would mean to help, but his legs would tire. Perhaps next year.”

“There are some warm boots Mary would like Narcissa to have. And Rebecca is sending down a supply of candles. Of course.”

“Of course,” Vincent allowed. “I… I want to take the longer path. The one that winds past the Maze, on the east side… and then goes down.”

Father’s eyes flickered. “That will add at least a full day to your journey. Why would you want to… oh… I see. You want to keep her occupied. And away from the surface, as much as possible.”

“It seems prudent, given the circumstances.”

Father tasted his breakfast and made a face. This too shall pass. “I’ll let Jamie know to pick up some of Jacob’s things. He’ll enjoy staying in the dorm room with the other children. For one thing, they get to have milk and cookies,” he groused at his own plain meal.

“Thank you, Father. I’ll let Diana know I need her help.” He rose to leave.

“Perhaps I can persuade Jacob to give his old grandfather a chocolate chip one,” Father said to his bowl, knowing it wasn’t going to happen.

“You can always convince him to get you an oatmeal one,” Vincent replied.

f

“No. No way.” Diana’s refusal was unequivocal.

“It would only be for a day… or more. Just long enough to…”

“I’m not discussing it. There are dozens of people here. Get someone else to accompany you.” She snapped her laptop shut, knowing the battery was all but drained. “Time for another trip to China Town,” she declared, marching off in that direction.

“Diana…”

“I said ‘no,’ Vincent. You’re not very good at hearing me.”

Perhaps it is you who lack the skill to listen, Vincent thought but didn’t dare say. He trailed behind her, knowing enough to give her some room.

Her long-legged stride was eating up ground. Walking quickly was a thing Diana rarely did unless she was working a case or annoyed. Vincent wondered which thing she was doing now. Both, probably.

“Your sister is well, and…”

“My sister is under 24-hour surveillance, and there’s a crazy person up there. I’m not going that far away from topside access. Joe might need me, or something might break on the case. How can you even think it?”

“How can you consider staying near, where the danger is greatest?” he asked.

She stopped in her tracks. “I consider it because that’s my job. I find dangerous people. It’s what I do. I’m only down here because Goldenhaar already swung at me and missed.”

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s math. Goldenhaar wants three people, specifically. That gives Joe Maxwell, Officer Tim Wolfson, and me each a 33 percent chance of being targeted. He went to my loft already. So, he wanted me first.”

Vincent liked that idea, not one bit.

“If I stay hidden, he’ll likely move on to one of the other two. It’s probably what he’s planning to do, now. If I show my face, the odds stay at 33 percent. Because I’m back in the mix.”

“But if you remain out of sight…” Vincent did a quick calculation. “The odds for the men increase.”

“To 50/50. Yeah. That stinks, but it’s easier for the cops to cover two people than it is three. If Tim’s out of town or in hiding with his son, that means they painted a big target on Joe Maxwell’s back. I need to figure out where this guy is, Vincent. Before he kills somebody. Or somebody’s family.”

“How does this… machine help you?” Vincent asked.

“Every bit of data anybody ever collected on Goldenhaar is on these discs. Every newspaper clipping. Every crime scene photo. Every… autopsy,” she said. “I know him. I knew him years ago, and I know him now. He’s angry that he can’t find me. And that means he’s going to send a message.”

She walked off in the direction of China Town. Vincent kept pace beside her. “A message? What kind of message?”

“An ugly kind,” was all Diana replied, as she kept going, ahead of him.

f

“Fools. Simple fools. Always be where they aren’t looking,” Goldenhaar said, loading two identical white boxes with vibrant, purple flowers. “I have a gift for you, Diana Bennett. And one for you, Joe Maxwell. You think you’re safe? Let’s see. Time to send a message. No one is safe. Not you… and… not your neighbors.”

He smiled an evil smile as he stripped the necessary rubber gloves off his hands. “Misdirection. The old magician’s trick,” he said, putting the correct name on the label of the box, but the incorrect address, though he wasn’t off by much. “I love apartment buildings. While everyone watches what goes on in 412, nobody watches what goes on two floors below. They think I’m going to approach the door? How absurd. Why should I, when a nice neighbor lady will deliver this for me?”

He gave each package a fond pat. “Aconite. I wonder if anyone will connect your other name to my first victim, in time to save him?” Goldenhaar gloated, as he taped the lid down.

Tying each narrow box with a golden bow, he went about making sure each one was delivered to where he wanted it to go.

f

Two hours later, Joe Maxwell was in an uproar. Twin white boxes had been delivered to Joe and Diana’s neighbors. Thinking they were correcting a mistake, each neighbor had hand carried the gift of deadly toxin to Joe and Diana’s door. Joe’s phone call to Diana was immediate.

“He tried to get to us. But forensics has the boxes,” Joe said, while Diana stood beneath Lin Pei’s basement entrance. Vincent stood by her side, while Lin waited above, listening in.

“Any line on the delivery driver?” Diana asked.

Joe snorted. “As if. He paid a kid 20 bucks to drop them off. And we only caught that much, thanks to my building super.”

“Joe, this doesn’t sound like Goldenhaar. He wouldn’t target both of us at the same time. He doesn’t work that way. He … concentrates. One person, one family at a time. We know that. He’d hurt us one at a time, to terrify the others. It’s how he gets his kicks. Are you sure it’s…”

“Diana, the flowers are poison. Real poison. Like, stick your aborigine spear in it and bring down a lion poison.”

“I take it there would be a lot of pain involved?” Diana asked, remembering her and Jacob’s recent bout with things that produced vomiting.

“If by ‘pain’ you mean cramping, sweating, seizures, paralysis, and death, yeah. I’m telling you, it’s him.”

“I believe you, I just…” Diana rubbed a tired brow. “I swear something’s wrong.”

“You want that we should have opened the boxes and got sick?” Joe asked.

“I want that we know what game Goldenhaar is playing. You say the flowers were purple?”

“Yeah. Aconite, according to the boys at the lab. Highly toxic, both by touch and ingestion. You can bring down a bear with it. Ring any bells?”

“Aconite? No. Goldenhaar likes his victims to be in pain for a while, but I don’t remember him ever sending flowers to anyone befo…”

“Aconite? That’s Monkshood,” Lin said to Vincent. “My grandfather said in China, sometimes the old people used to ask for it, diluted, as a sedative. It’s dangerous, though. He won’t touch it.”

Vincent’s blue eyes flickered. “Monkshood. It has another name,” Vincent put a hand on Diana’s arm. “Aconite is also called Wolfsbane.”

Awareness leaped into Diana’s alarmed gaze. “Joe, find Tim Wolfson, right now. Him, and his kid. If either one of them is sick, tell them to treat them for poison, fast.” Her blue eyes locked with Vincent’s.

“We’re not the target. We’re the message.”

Q

Chapter 4

Rusty Hough Bader

Tim Wolfson stared out the deli window into the rain-swept street. Oily water created mesmerizing patterns as cabs splashed through the yellow traffic light.

Ought to set traffic rookies up here with a ticket pad and do some revenue enhancement, Tim thought as he caught a runaway piece of corned beef from his triple-decker sandwich.

It was lonely without his wife and son, but he’d got the message and sent them to his Canadian Aunt’s home within the heartbeat of Joe’s warnings. His toddler son could count moose, it would be worth the two changes of airplanes to get Hilda and Tommy to Calgary. Chasing down a woman who still held her passport in her maiden name would be too much for Goldenhaar, Tim knew who the slimy devil wanted.

Resignedly, Tim carried the bag of apple cake back to his walkup. His two-bedroom apartment was sandwiched between a music student on the first floor and a pre-med student on the third floor. Ironically, they looked to him for protection, him being part of New York’s Blue Line. Tonight, he felt like a big, blue target. As he turned the corner on his sleepy street, he watched the doors open on an unmarked car double parked in front of his place.

Tim’s blood ran cold. Had Goldenhaar tracked down Hilda and Tommy?

In a stage whisper, the taller detective hustled to Tim’s side. “Wolfson, you been home yet?” The balding man flashed his badge for enough time for Tim to read it.

“Naw,” he held up the bag of apple cake. “Dinner around the corner.” Tim chewed a toothpick to kill his urge to smoke. “Something up?” Tim noticed two men in Tyvek suits jumping out of a panel truck. “Who …?”

“Yeah, Wolfson, Diana, and Joe thought you needed an escort in tonight. We’re going to hang back out here. Your neighbors to each side and behind have been moved out. We’ve established a perimeter thanks to your neighbors across the street. Their security camera caught our favorite miscreant decorating your apartment.”

Joe Maxwell pushed open the panel truck door. “Over here, Tim.”

f

Diana paced the basement beneath Henry and Lin’s restaurant. Each time she approached a wall she shot a furtive glance at Vincent. There he was, his hood pulled far forward over his head, even though Joe was blocks and blocks away.

“Diana, your phone has rung once. Joe has confirmed the technicians have cleared the properties. Tim is safe with Joe. Is this pacing working for you?” Vincent’s felinesque lips curled in curious humor.

“Why, yes. That’s quite droll of you, to ask. How many boots do you have reshod every season, you’ve created a symphony of sound they way that cape of yours follows you.”

A hearty chuckle reverberated in Vincent’s broad chest, and he raised his brow. “A symphony?” He extended his gloved hand toward Diana, and as she approached him, he slid the gloves off and tucked them within his pockets.

Diana’s pale face drew into her special smile for him. It was far different from the knowing smile she shared with Joe at office victories. This was the slightly melancholy, Mona Lisa smile she shared with Vincent alone. With only the sound of leather and corduroy, Vincent wrapped her to his chest. His bare hands swept back the loose burnished ringlets collecting around her softly freckled face, and they both took a calming breath.

“You have the most calming effect on me, Vincent.” With her ear pressed against his bulky knit sweater, she could hear his heart pounding through however many layers of clothing he was famous for wearing. Her hand rested above the sound she savored, and he covered it with his own. They stood, both silent under the cacophony of an active kitchen above them. “Sometimes, Vincent, I lie in bed at night and think of you walking the tunnels. I wonder… if… you feel twinges like I do?”

“Twinges?” His hood fell back as he tilted his head to read the expression in her limpid eyes.

“I know you had a bond, something sacred with Catherine. I’ve had out and out gut reactions with the last man I dated.” She chuckled and raised her ear off Vincent’s chest. “That’s how I knew to cut him loose.” They each nodded, and Vincent caught her tighter to him. He stepped back to sit on a barrel and made a place for her on his thigh.

“So, these twinges, are they messengers? Do you listen to them about me?” Vincent took her hand as she sat within his warmth. His bright cerulean eyes twinkled at her.

“They tell me to wait.” Diana’s voice was breathy, not at all like the intrepid detective.

“Wait?” The single word whispered off Vincent’s lips. “For me? For me to…”

Diana’s body chuckled within his embrace. “Yeah…” She tapped the front of his forehead. “Wake up and smell the lavender body wash that I hope overwhelms my usual scent of gun oil.”

Vincent’s lips curled in a curious expression Diana had never seen on his leonine face. “Yes, yes, I do, Diana. There are times when the veil between us thins, and I have to keep Father on my shoulder for discipline…”

With furrowed brows, Diana pouted. “I’ve never known you as anything else than a… gentle man.” With a nearly saucy toss of her long braid over her shoulder she absentmindedly brushed the end under her chin. “Sometimes I cross my fingers that someone may slip you some sherry to loosen your lips.” Diana dropped her braid and danced her index fingers lightly over his bottom lip.

Vincent caught her hand in a thoughtful kiss as time stood still. No upstairs fury, no banging on the pipes. Their hearts beat a staccato in rhythm as their bodies warmed to each other under his cloak. “Diana, I desire only to close my eyes, let me dive into your affections… Stay with me, let me read to you tonight.” He raised his gaze to the light above and then the cell phone within their reach. “We would have heard from Joe if there was a bad outcome, don’t you agree?” Vincent rose, carrying Diana to her feet.

f

Diana stood, trancelike. Dive into my affections? Literally? Figuratively? Diana fought for breath. She started and grabbed for the stairs, wanting to confirm peace on their horizon.

Winded, Diana flew up the stairs, calling for Henry or Lin. “Have you heard anything on the scanner?”

Diana stood in the restaurant’s office doorway as Henry bundled cash.

“Joe called me, he said the cell phone wasn’t answering.” Henry gestured Diana to a chair. “Their technicians isolated the contaminant in the apartment hallway. He said they tried to keep it off the news, but someone tipped off a news helicopter, and Joe expects it on the eleven o’clock news. Joe and Tim are going to the crime lab and bunk up there.”

Diana’s chin dipped as she blushed. “So that’s it for the night?” She stood with a deep inhalation, slapping her thighs as she rolled the tension out of her shoulders. “I’ll leave the cell phone charging in the basement, okay? I’m heading back to the tunnels.”

Lin stopped in the doorway. “See you at lunch?” Her hug goodnight was graceful and soft.

f

Blushing, Diana halted to enjoy the sight of Vincent standing there, the openings of his cloak folded back over his shoulders, his butterscotch boots planted shoulder-width apart. He is a redwood among pines. The closer she sauntered, the taller he stood, his chest rising and falling. Was he disciplining himself with Father’s admonitions right now? Nothing like an ill Father to really turn on the guilt. His hand caught hers, and he tucked it into the crook of his elbow.

“Come, Diana, release some of those tensions. I have just the right tea if you’ll join me in my chambers.”

f

Everything about Vincent’s chamber sang romance. All you had to do was see it in the right light. The stained-glass window, the eclectic collections of New York oddities, the sumptuous fabrics lovingly sewn into quilts and coverlets. With swift steps, Vincent lit the candelabras flanking his bed. He opened an armoire she’d never really noticed and brought out a kimono of sage green burn-out velvet.

“If you wish to be more comfortable, may I offer you this?” He dug out a rose print flannel gown and a reed basket from the top of the antique armoire. “I will check on Father and Mary while you soak in the hot springs.” He held back the canvas to the path running behind the chambers. “Relax while I gather a snack and a pot of tea.” He listened thoughtfully to the sounds of the pipes. “In thirty or so minutes, I’ll be back.”

f

Once behind the chambers in the steamy tunnels, Diana held the basket, eyes closed, counting her blessings. If he only read to her and she could fall asleep in his arms, it would be enough. It would be all she would need to know his heart. It would be enough.

f

Father reached for his eyeglasses. “Jacob is already down for the count. Jamie kept him so active he fell asleep with his biscuit in his lap. I had to finish his cocoa.” Then Father’s hand quickly covered his mouth, feigning his slip up at drinking the sweet chocolate treat.

“And tonight, when you wake up…” Vincent’s fists rested on his hips, his brows rising into his golden hairline.

“Piffle, pure piffle.” Father waved him off. “Go to bed, Vincent. By the look on your face, the world above is quiet?”

Vincent nodded.

“We could all use some peace, correct?” Father removed his eyeglasses and slid back under his quilt.

Vincent turned and then spun on his heel.

“There were a number of threats tonight, but they have been contained. I sent Diana for a soak, and I’m going to brew some lavender tea. I thought I would read to her and if she fell asleep, I thought I would go down the hall…”

Father leaned closer to his son’s soft words. “Vincent, may I have a moment?” He patted the bed and moved toward to wall to make room for his son. Head down, Vincent sat, his fingers interlace on his lap. With paternal warmth, Jacob Wells covered his son’s hands.

“While you can, son, enjoy her warmth. There is nothing wrong with falling asleep under good books.” With a pat and a curious twist of his father’s smile, Vincent took a dubious second look.

With a bass rumble Vincent chuckled, “My bed is very narrow…” and he rose to leave.

“So, read small books to her, nestle close…” Father dialed down his oil lamp, and Vincent took the darkness as a cue to leave.

f

Rose soap and warm springs swept Diana into an oasis. What was Vincent offering her? Was their friendship deepening? She held the soft flannel washcloth close to her heart as she soaked. It was more than she wanted to think about, she just wanted the tactile experience of being within his aura, that blessed golden peace that she’d seen him share with his family below. If he was frightening and fierce, his pendulum swung to heights of the tenderest romantic gestures, his voice, his calming rumble of a voice. Everything wonderful within her quickened at the thought of sharing the candlelight with him.

f

Moving with the music of the tunnel pipes, Vincent rolled the tea cart next to his overstuffed bed. Peaks of puffed pillows leaned invitingly against the wall under the arch. He lit the collection of angel candle holders, and the candles’ heat set the angels spinning, casting reflections over the ceiling of rough rock.

While the fragrant tea steeped, Vincent hung up his cloak and slid into his fleece slippers. He was covered in gentle textures from his fleece trousers to his layers of a well-worn thermal shirt, and the crinkled soft linen nightshirt.

Was the open nightshirt too bold? He buttoned it completely, then unbuttoned it down three buttons, held it open to reveal his thick chest hair and then began reclosing it when he heard Diana’s slippered footfalls.

“Thank-you, Vincent. Your thoughtfulness is everything. Sometimes, the simple…” Her voice caught at the sight of the usually bundled and buttoned up man as he stood in what looked like barely nothing to her. His slippers were low, exposing well-darned rag socks. His long, strong legs were covered in camel colored fleece that dared to copy his own flesh. His linen nightshirt skimmed his knees, but her gaze caught the sight of his chest. It was personal real estate Vincent usually kept out of sight. She ducked her head momentarily, and then a broad smile broke across her face. “Oh, I didn’t realize you were wearing pants, I thought I’d caught you…” She giggled, and his chuckle met hers. She held up a stalling hand, “I’m… you must think I’m used to barging into bedchambers.”

“I know better, go, make yourself comfortable.” He gestured to the mountain of quilts and stoked the stove. “The tea is ready, I’ll join you in a moment.”

Diana burrowed in and pulled the covers to her shoulders. The sights within this heaven were fascinatingly beautiful, watching as heat from the candles caused enchanting, dancing shadows across the ceiling. Vincent held out a steaming pottery mug to her and sat carefully on the side of the bed.

Within Vincent’s heart, Rumi spoke to him… your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it.

As Diana cradled the plate of cheese and fruit and buttered scones, Vincent’s voice carried the dedication of Idylls of the King like a song, a rich bass song. Between paragraphs, Diana held out a grape or a slice of cheese. He’d accept it, and they would absorb the silence of the tinkling angels spinning above the heat in contrast to the slowing tunnel pipes. When the plate was empty, and Diana’s mug was dry, she placed it on the ledge and drew her knees up under her chin to watch Vincent’s lips form the magical words of Lord Tennyson.

With the candle’s shortening, they sagged closer together. Wrapped in each other’s orbit, entranced by the freshness of their audacious steps into this phase of their ‘friendship.’

As the candles sputtered into darkness, their ‘now’ was here. Her wealth of loose red hair waterfalling across his nightshirt as they nestled within each other’s warmth. His strong arm cradled her over his heart. In her half sleep, in the sweet silver world between waking and slumber, Diana grinned at the purring rumble in his chest. I will sleep peacefully tonight.

Q

Chapter 5

Denise

Diana rolled to her back; a dreamy satisfied smile on her lips and raised both arms from beneath the warmth of the covers and stretched with joint cracking satisfaction. It had been some time since she had slept so well. Curled up beside Vincent - who would have thought? She sat up straight in bed the memory of the reason for her smile causing a blush to spread across her face. She hated to blush. Her face always seemed a blotchy mismatch for her coppery hair.

“Humm. No Vincent.” The warm indentation in the mattress at her side a clue to his none too recent departure.

Curly headed little boy with blues eyes peered up at her from the bedside. “Hi, Diana, good morning.” Jacob piped cheerily making his greeting sound like one word.

“Hey, Jake. Were you watching me sleep? Where’s your father?” She reached for the thick cable-knit sweater draped helpfully at the foot of the bed, shrugging into it for warmth as well as to banish the sudden need for modesty in front of her small morning visitor, stocking feet searched futilely for her tennis shoes that served as her slippers.

Jacob nodded his head. Two small fists lifted the wayward footwear into view accompanied by an infectious giggle. “Here they are. Daddy said he would meet us at the dining hall for breakfast.”

Taking the footwear from her small valet, Diana quickly slipped them on and took her young escorts hand.

“Lead the way.” She said thinking, I do hope I don’t have to eat breakfast every day while I’m here or I’ll be the size of William by the time I get back to my loft.

Jacob only chuckled again. “William likes it when we eat breakfast together. He says it’s what families do.”

Diana paused mid-stride having the distinct impression that her escort heard her thought. Young Jacob skipped happily a few hops ahead.

f

Vincent caught a whisper of his happy son’s emotion, his eyes reflecting that joy. Vincent shook his head and ducked to enter the access below Henry’s restaurant. Joe was pacing beneath the ladder.

“Sorry, I had to do this so early, but when the forensic guys finished taking apart the little gift package from our insane friend, I wanted to see what Diana could make of it.” He extended a fat, large 9x12 envelope to Vincent.

The large gloved hand extended from the depths of his cloak toward the envelope when he caught the faint smell of something unfamiliar.

“Is there an object within bearing the substance used by Goldenhaar?”

“Yeah, probably. Not enough to be dangerous, just a sample of the material he used it on; sealed of course.”

Vincent held the envelope as though the contents, secured within were visible in the half-light of the Pei’s basement.

“I will see that she has this information right away.” He studied the other man closely stretching his senses. “You are worried by these discoveries.”

Joe scratched his head, scowling slightly. “Not so much worried as confused… well, yeah, that too. I don’t get it! The lab didn’t either. Goldenhaar took the time to wear gloves while assembling his little ‘gifts’ but not while wrapping them.”

“This indicates what?” Vincent’s voice rumbled lower like the echo of the passing subway. “Is this not what you would call evidence?”

Joe blew a heavy sigh, accompanied by a snap of the rubber band at his wrist. “That’s right. Boy, right now I wish I wasn’t trying not to smoke! Anyway, he’s been real clever up to this point not to leave any hard evidence at the other scenes, but with these recent attempts it’s as if he’s daring us to catch him.”

Vincent became suddenly still. Joe, sensing something had changed in towering cloaked individual had the urge to step back from even though the other man hadn’t moved.

Hesitantly he asked, “Something wrong?”

Vincent tensed ever so slightly. “I was reminded of something I had not thought of in some time. Perhaps I might be able to be of greater assistance than providing a place of refuge for Diana.”

Joe offered an uncertain smile. He backed toward the ladder leading to the Pei’s basement. “We can use whatever help we can get, Vincent. I’m not too proud to say I don’t know what to do about this monster. I gotta go make sure my Mom’s not giving her protection detail fits! Speaking for Diana too, if you think of anything, share! We’ve got to stop this guy!”

He climbed out of sight with more hope than had been within than when he had descended.

f

“…And a boy’s best friend is his mother, his mother!” sang Goldenhaar to himself he diced onions, bell pepper, and chopped a clove of garlic to the tune he sang. Goldenhaar buried his large knife in the center of the block of wood he used as a cutting board with a “Thwack!”

His sautéed veggies bubbled evilly like hellish lava in a dark, heavy skillet, the warm scent of oil and tomatoes simmered in a dirty pan.

“Go get an ax, there’s a hair on baby’s chin. And a boy’s best friend is his mother, his mother.” Goldenhaar stirred and sang over his concoction a few minutes longer.

From a takeout bag on a nearby chair, he removed two containers. One he filled with mushrooms carefully spread over penne pasta; the other he filled the still hot red sauce. Gingerly, almost lovingly he placed both containers in the takeout bag labeled ‘Astoria.’

Still singing softly to himself he crooned, “And a boy’s best friend is his mother.”

Goldenhaar stepped over the bodies of a small boy and his mother as he had slain them in the doorway of their small apartment. The two had been on their way to the boy’s school that morning.

f

Vincent quietly placed the envelope on the table Diana used as her desk. Jacob was prancing his wooden horse around the woman’s stocking feet careful not to let his horse bump or jostle the thin legs of her table.

“Okay, Jake. You can give your horse his exercise as long as nobody bumps the table.” Diana’s large eyes fixed Jacob’s blue so like his father’s solemnly.

“I promise no bumps, Diana.” The little boy promised with equal seriousness.”

Vincent smiled as broadly, grasped the small boy by the waist lifting him high to his shoulder. Jacob couldn’t stifle his laughter. “Daddy, shush, daddy. Diana said we had to be quiet!” He gasped still giggling.

Diana had looked up when the horseman was hoisted into the air. The child’s laughter was infectious. While father and son enjoyed themselves, she seized and tore open the envelope, spilled its contents on the table.

“We are going to visit Grandfather, cowboy Jacob.” Vincent rumbled in his son’s ear as he swept from the chamber his booted feet as silent as the sweep of his cloak covering him.

“Uh, huh.” Diana barely registered their departure, so intent was her interest in envelope’s contents.

f

“I must say, Vincent, I cannot recall anyone making such an unusual request of the community.” Father rubbed his beard, stroked his chin pondering his son’s unusual request. “I see no reason we cannot try this experiment. Do you foresee it taking more than an hour?”

Vincent relaxed the breath he hadn’t been aware he was holding. Father was one of the few individuals including his beloved Catherine, and now Diana who possessed the capacity to surprise him with their depth of caring, their trust in him.

“I believe if successful, we can aid Diana in tracing the location of this insane individual.”

Father peered at his much-loved child over the rims of his glasses. “If you would be so good as to put word out on the pipes, I will entertain my sleeping grandson happily for a few minutes.”

Vincent’s fond gaze fell upon the sleeping child, who had giggled himself into exhaustion, and kissed his forehead. ‘No doubt a very few’ thought Vincent who sensed the wakefulness stirring in the young mind.

f

Diana shifted her gaze from the tall man before her to the tiny bottle fished from the bottom of her toiletries bag to the crowd gathering around them.

“Vincent, I hardly ever wear this cologne. I didn’t think you’d notice,” said Diana, handing him a bottle of Red, ironically enough.

Come on Bennett you know he notices everything.

Vincent’s unusual mouth pulled up a smile while he stepped out of arms reach.

“I appreciate perfumes, Diana. They make each person that wears it even more different from another person wearing the same fragrance. What I am proposing here is that you wear a small amount of your cologne. Then go with one of these people to a chamber of your choice, and I will try and find you.”

Diana lifted a brow. “Hide and go seek, Vincent? Will this bring us closer to finding and arresting Goldenhaar?”

“If this diversion goes as I believe. It will,” said Vincent in a better than fair imitation of Father.

“How will I know if you really tracked me or didn’t get your information on the pipes.”

“They are here to help you prevent me from discovering your location. The only way I will know they have helped is if they touch your perfume bottle.”

“All right, let me get this straight; I can have as many or as few helpers as I want, as long as the helper touches the bottle. And I can go wherever I want in the tunnels to hide.”

“Almost. Father has given us one hour for this. Therefore, you should travel no further than half an hour one-way from the home chambers. You must keep the bottle with you until I discover your location.”

Diana looked around at some beaming tunnel dwellers: Rebecca, Mary, Mouse, Hannah, Jeffery; and a few looked as if they were facing imminent defeat like Kipper, Samantha, and Daniel. As for Diana, she chose to believe; take her cue from the first group.

Per agreement, Vincent and Jacob returned to their chamber, and Pascal signaled on the pipes when the search was to begin. Cullen took wagers in the form of extra chores from interested onlookers while Kanin acted as referee.

f

Diana slipped through the pantry and sat at the rear of the common chamber used as the dining hall. She had almost headed for the chamber of the winds.

“Diana, it will take the better part of an hour to get there if we had started fifteen minutes ago!” Kipper explained sounding a little disappointed.

The laundry was her next choice; all that steam and sulfur from the hot springs a good mask for perfume’s scent. Everyone there had been all for her hiding out with them, but she underestimated how long she and Samantha could take the heat in their regular clothes.

“I think I should have worn my work clothes.” Said the younger woman plucking at her heavy sweater clinging relentlessly to sweaty skin.

“I couldn’t agree more!” Diana blew hair out of her face, mopping sweat from forehead and neck with the hem of her shirt.

That’s when the kitchen idea came to her.

She slid into place at a bench at the rear of the hall, congratulating herself on at least sending Vincent on a merry chase.

William placed a cup of precious coffee before her, “To the optimistic challenger a consolation prize.” He said gruffly, with a smile.

 Seconds later whose amber mane head should appear in the archway of the kitchen doorway? Vincent!

A crowd materialized behind him peopled by some knowing looks on the faces of Mouse, Kipper, and Samantha. He glided across the room appearing as if he had made a momentous discovery; so he had.

Diana rolled her eyes, threw up her hands in defeat. “How? I must have changed my mind six times before coming here.”

For the first time in their acquaintance, Diana recognized an expression on his beautiful but unusual face she never thought to see: self-satisfaction.

“I am very, very good at Hide and Seek.” He purred.

Q

Chapter 6

Beth W

Diana fumed as she strode toward Father’s chambers. The look on Vincent’s face had been amusing for a moment until the implication had sunk in. She was adamant that he not attempt to track down this serial killer above. Vincent had tried to shut down all of her protests with his usual cool, calm logic, but Diana wouldn’t be soothed, and eventually, she’d turned on her heel and left. She knew that Father would understand her appeal, and even though he was ill, he might have some sway over Vincent. At least, she reasoned, if it came from Father, then Vincent wouldn’t see it as a damsel in distress insisting she didn’t need help.

Her footsteps echoed softly in the tunnel on the hard-packed earthen floor.

No, she thought, that isn’t fair, Vincent doesn’t think of me as some helpless girl.

Still, she knew he was powerless to resist his own need to be the hero. Not out of hubris or ego, but because he grew up in a community that expected him to be the bodyguard. And because of his shame at the destruction he was capable of inflicting, she knew he took every opportunity to balance the scales. Regardless of how noble and complicated his reasons, it wasn’t worth awakening his darker side and watching him wrestle with the guilt of hurting people, even people who deserved to be hurt. She knew, in the way she knew how killers justified their actions and victims their pain, that Vincent was haunted by every face that ever gazed on him in terror. And she refused to be any part of the cycle that kept that going.

The two years after Catherine’s death, watching Vincent struggle with his loss and redefine himself, and being powerless to affect his life, had been absolute hell for Diana. She was careful to keep that hidden… a poker face was natural to her… knowing that his burden was greater than hers, but that didn’t mean she wanted to go through even a tenth of that again.

Father was sitting upright in bed, a fleece blanket over his lap when Diana came in with the force of a gale. She stopped short just inside the entryway, and although her face revealed nothing, her clipped movements spoke volumes.

“Can I help you, Diana?”

She took a moment, breathing deeply while she organized her thoughts.

“Vincent wants to go above and track Goldenhaar by scent.”

Father gently set down the book he’d been holding. He thought he’d remembered Vincent exploring the uses of his uncanny enhanced senses as a child, but the memory was hazy in the way many of his older memories had lately been. “Yes, I suppose he’d be able to do such a thing.”

Diana took another deep, calming breath. “I was hoping you’d be able to talk sense into him.”

Father chuckled. “He’s a grown man who makes his own choices. And I’m just a foolish old man in his sickbed.”

Diana snorted in amused disbelief. Even from his sickbed, Father held enough respect and authority to be nominally in charge of the community Below. “But you can’t truly want him to go above and hunt down this criminal. It’s dangerous.”

She caught Father’s eye with her intense gaze and understanding of a sort passed between them.

Father shifted in his position. “You and my son have grown… close.”

The turn in topic startled Diana. She felt a blush creep up her neck, glaringly obvious thanks to her pale European heritage. Instinctively, she shook her head to let her hair cover the blotchy redness. “We’re friends. Good friends. I would never impinge on Catherine’s memory. You know that.”

Father smiled indulgently. “Sometimes I forget how young the two of you are. My dear, love isn’t a decision you make when the timing is right.”

Diana dropped her gaze, turning away slightly. She wasn’t good at teasing emotional knots out. Analyzing facts, yes. Creating profiles from a handful of evidence, yes. But putting labels to the conflicting, shifting feelings inside her? Communicating those to anyone? Understanding the hearts of others? Not at all. It was why she enjoyed spending time with children, like Jake, they were so much more pure in their feelings and earnest in their communication.

Father chuckled again, seeing Diana’s obvious discomfort. “You can’t protect him from himself. He can’t protect you from yourself. Whatever label you put on your… relationship… you must respect each other enough to speak your piece and let go.”

“So you think I should tell him why I’m worried about him going Above to play vigilante, and then sit down here doing nothing while he does it anyway?” She was ashamed at the bitter tone in her voice and astonished that Father was being so neutral about things.

“I never said you should do nothing.” Father’s eyes gleamed. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I believe my afternoon oatmeal is here.”

Diana turned, bumping around Joshua, who carried a tray of thick, greyish porridge. She mumbled an apology and a farewell, her feet carrying her toward her setup below, while her mind buzzed with plans, ideas, and strategy.

f

Joe cradled a phone against his cheek while checking the sheet that the lab nerds had faxed over.

“No, that’s right. G-o-l-d-e-n-h-a-a-r. Uh-huh. Thanks.”

He hung up, then scanned the information. They still had no lead on where the bastard could be, so the Chief of Police was working the case from the other angle: how did a serial killer with three life sentences escape from Sing Sing? The most frustrating thing about being District Attorney, to Joe’s mind, was that it wasn’t like the TV shows. He couldn’t pick up a phone, bark orders, and protect and serve. That was the job of the boys in blue. So far, they’d been very willing to share their information and take his suggestions. But he knew from experience that now that the press had wind of this debacle, the cooperation would get drier and stiffer until it shriveled up entirely. Then all Joe could do was wait and hope for some information, and let his people prosecute to the best of their ability.

From the evidence gathered on video, and the testimony of one stool pigeon, Goldenhaar had acquired a rather sophisticated lockpick. He had let himself out of his cell, incapacitated the interior guard, somehow (and that was the kicker) disabled the electronic locks of the middle and outer doors, and let himself out. Where was the exterior guard? Joe had been in plenty of prisons as a newly minted lawyer, taking depositions and reviewing interviews with some unsavory characters and a few wrongly accused ones. He hadn’t been to Sing Sing in over a decade, but he had a solid understanding of how maximum-security prisons were supposed to be secured. He replaced his memories but couldn’t align his knowledge of security with how easily Goldenhaar had gotten out.

That the man wanted everyone to know it was him was obvious, from the fingerprint evidence he left behind. He’d been difficult to catch the first time… and to prosecute… with how meticulous he was about evidence. Joe wished it was Goldenhaar being sloppy now, but something Diana had said stuck with him: “He wants the panic, the uncertainty. It doesn’t matter if we know who, unless we know where.”

He was glad Diana was safe. It was no skin off his nose that Wolfson had been sent to a secure location after his apartment had been shredded. The cop knew the drill and had been the lead detective on the Goldenhaar case.

Diana, despite how capable and smart she was, was another matter. Wolfson would know when to back off and let the department do its work. Diana, though, was never truly part of the team. Probably doesn’t trust them, he thought, but couldn’t blame her for that.

She’d gotten plenty of shit from the uniformed officers, and a lot of cold shoulders from the desk jockeys. She went toe-to-toe with all of them, and often outshined them, solving cold cases and making it look easy. He knew it wasn’t. He knew she fixated, and she basically had no life. And he knew she was part of some actual underground group, along with the ridiculously oversized Vincent.

After Catherine, Joe learned to trust Diana and eventually, even though he’d yet to see what the man looked like, to trust Vincent.

But even though he trusted Diana, it didn’t mean he thought she’d be smart and lay low with this. He’d hoped that feeding her all the info he got about the situation would keep her occupied enough to stay out of Goldenhaar’s way. That, and maybe whatever she had with Vincent. Jealousy twinged his stomach sideways for a moment. Diana was a beautiful woman; just because Joe’s love life was a parched desert didn’t mean hers should be, too. But when even the brainiac who’d never attended a Knicks game in her life was getting lucky…

“Joe Maxwell?” A husky voice interrupted his thoughts.

Joe swiveled in his chair to look at the dark woman in uniform, her silver nametag aptly announcing “STIRLING.” She stood just inside his office door.

She’s attractive, in a brusque sort of way. He smiled his most charming smile. “Yes?”

“I’m sorry, but we’re here to take you into protective custody. Please leave your papers here and come with us.”

Damn!

f

Joe’s escort through the apartment building in Astoria was as low-key as possible. Aside from the female officer with the jazz club voice, no one else was in uniform. The group ambled through minimal tension. Joe figured most of the tension was probably coming from him, bristling at being hustled off to a safehouse like some victim. At least it’s nice digs. The lobby was clean and more spacious than he’d expected for a brownstone. They tromped up three flights of stairs, joking back and forth about how tourists and transplants were ruining the city.

At the fourth-floor landing, in front of a nondescript door, the officer stopped and knocked four times. There was no mistaking a cop’s brisk knock, but the door didn’t open. As the seconds ticked by, looks of confusion ran through the small group. She knocked again, harder. Still nothing. Joe felt, more than saw, the group bristle. The cop drew her gun and took a stance beside the door, and her companions fanned out. One gently but firmly moved Joe out of the way. He wasn’t even armed; whatever they were expecting, he just didn’t want to be shot again. Ever.

After what seemed like minutes, the officer threw her weight against the door. It took three slams of her body before it splintered open. The others jumped into action, blocking Joe’s view of the scene. But he got an eyeful eventually. As ambulances were called and the bathroom was checked, he scanned the whole scene. Three uniformed officers lay haphazard on the carpeted floor, curled around themselves. One twitched and moaned, but the other two were painfully still. The acrid scent of vomit mingled with a richer scent, like tomatoes and Marsala wine. The contents of a few takeout boxes still steamed, some from where they’d spilled on the floor. Joe’s mind kept taking it all in, as he lunged for the apartment’s phone and dialed Diana’s cell phone number.

Q

Chapter 7

Stace B

The other end of the line rang twice and went to voice mail. Joe looked at the phone in disbelief. Diana’s very brief voice mail recording directed the caller to leave a message. Why wasn’t she answering her cell phone? That was… weird.

Of course, she’s not going to be answering her cell. There’s no signal in the tunnels, through the miles of solid rock, genius. Hell, you wouldn’t get a signal in any of the parking garages in NYC if a bunch of them didn’t have cell signal boosters installed.

“Hey Di, we’re at the apartment, and it’s a cluster,” Joe began as his brain finally kicked in. Hey, genius. How smart is it to be calling from an unsecured line? Dammit. Well, you’re already doing this now. Make it short and sweet. “I’ll get back with you after forensics tosses my new Astoria apartment and I know something. And…” Joe added with a sigh of disgust “...and this freakin’ house phone.” 

That was a dumb mistake. You’d think I’d know better after working with the police departments as much as we do in this line of work. Joe looked around for the female cop who was in charge of his detail to let her know. She was investigating adjacent to the kitchen.

It occurred to him, to play his cards close to his chest. How did Goldenhaar have any idea where they were? Was he watching them? Was he that good?  Or was there also some sort of mole? Hard to say. Just in case, Joe decided he wasn’t going to mention that he’d called Diana, just that he’d called.

Stirling was writing something down on a notepad with her back to him. As he got closer, he cleared his throat; both announcing his presence and interrupting her thought.

“Officer Stirling, I’m an idiot.” 

The officer looked up from her notepad, cocked her head, and turned around to face the familiar voice. Joe grimaced and waved. She quizzically furrowed her brow and replied to him.  “How do you mean Mr. Maxwell?”

“I was rattled, and I wasn’t thinking.”  Joe shook his head. “I picked up the land line to make a call before I realized forensics might need to dust for prints.” 

Stirling shot him an irritated, disapproving look. Pursing her lips as though she will have a thing or two to say when he finished explaining.

“The good news might be,” he gestured, “I did realize it before I flapped my lips too much. I kept the message short and sweet, but let them know that the apartment was compromised and that I’d called on the landline.”

 “Well, that’s better news than I expected you were going to give me,” she stated between annoyed glances.

“Officer Sterling… hey, I am really sorry. I… I don’t know what’s the matter with me. I mean, I really should know better.”

Joe could hear the pen scratching away on her notepad. Most surely scrawling notes for the additional paperwork that was (probably) going to need to be filed now.

Her expression softened a little as she looked up. “Mr. Maxwell, it’s probably fine, we’ll deal with it.” She looked around at the scene, making mental notes. “Just try to keep it down to a dull roar till we’re done. I mean, I kinda doubt this apartment or the phone are tapped, but anything’s possible.”

Stirling turned towards where the three cops had lain on the floor, curled up clutching their guts. “What I do want to know, is who in the hell ordered take-out and from where?”

f

Bennett had looked over the evidence that Joe had sent. It really wasn’t leading her into a specific direction, although she knew exactly what Monkshood smelled like now. She’d have to percolate on it and see if something clicked. What she did know, was she was really hungry. Dim-Sum? Maybe one of Lin’s fragrant pineapple buns?

I really need lunch apparently. And to check my voice mail, she thought as she grabbed her jacket and started to make her way to Lin and Henry’s.

Goldenhaar seemed to be shooting at the trio with a preverbal shotgun, which bothered her because that wasn’t his style. He was much more the precise and methodical killer.

So what is he really up to? Diana wondered as she slowly wove her way thru the tunnels towards Chinatown.

Wow, she was kind of getting the hang of this!  It was a strange feeling, noticing that you recognized the way, telling the difference between passages. Not quite second nature, but not bad. 

Does he mean to kill us in a certain order? If so, then she was the first, Tim was the second intended victim, and then is Joe the third? If so, thus far he hadn’t nailed any of them, which was a bit odd. However, if that’s the case, that 0 for 3 has to be making Goldenhaar furious.

“Hmmn.” She growled, rounding another turn towards the Pei’s restaurant. If that’s the case, he’s going to make a mistake, and I have to catch it. If that’s his plan she had to play it smart, but also not let herself, Vincent, or anyone else, do anything stupid either. 

When she was around the corner from the Pei restaurant basement, Bennett flipped on the cell phone. She turned the brightness down, the ringer and alarms on silent and slipped it in her back pocket before pausing to listen at the grate. Out of sight through the above grate, between it and the basement door, she waited for notification buzzes.

Diana still couldn’t shake the feeling that she needed to look back over her Goldenhaar case files and notes again. Put up her map, mark or pin the things they know, where they know he’s been and tried to hit them. She had the nagging feeling there was a pattern. Maybe after she checked the voice mail to see if Joe had updates of what he’d heard through the grapevine from the NYPD.

buzz. two pulses. buzz.

Diana pulled the cell out of her pocket and punched her voice mail button.  She had a few messages from Joe. Between the three messages, the first one being weird and vague, she was able to winnow out that he’d presumably went to a safe house. The on-duty guys there were incapacitated before his detail arrived.

Tim checked in, and they all were good there, her sister was ok. Bennett locked her phone and stuffed it in her back pocket and climbed through the grate. Dim-sum was going to have to wait a minute. She did a sweep of the restaurant basement, from the tunnel grate to storeroom door. When she knew the coast was clear, she crouched near the grate and called Joe back.

“Whew! I’m glad to hear from you!” began Joe as he explained the weird message he’d left earlier. “I didn’t think I’d be hearing back from you; that you’d be able to return my calls already.”

He filled in Diana on the play-by-play of what happened, and they’d already figured out that the guys had been sick, poisoned by the takeout. They weren’t sure how Goldenhaar had figured out where the safe house was. Joe said the lead officer was super pissed. They didn’t know what restaurant the food was ordered from. Or who delivered it. They were waiting on the one officer that hadn’t died to be stable enough to question.

Forensics was still combing through the apartment. In the meantime, they were waiting on toxicology to come back with a report. Tim was doing some investigating on his end to see if there were any other weird goings-on in the area on the blotter around any of the crime scenes.

“Dollars to doughnuts says it’s that aconite because whatever it was, it was quick!  Hell, some of the food was still hot in the take-out boxes when we got there.”

“Okay get with Wolfson,” Diana began as the gears spun inside her brain. “Let's see if he can get someone to figure out where the takeout came from.”

Joe nodded on his end of the phone. “He probably used cash for the boxes, ribbon and that stuff can be bought anywhere” Joe interjected. There was a bit of a pause. “But let me see if Tim can ask forensics if they can find anything about those particular boxes or ribbon. Who knows, maybe there’s something special about them.”

“Good idea.  I’ll see if I can figure out where Goldenhaar bought Monkshood,” Diana smirked.  “I’m thinking if three of us can put out feelers and get some answers maybe we can pin down where he’s operating from, make him feel a little less smug and comfortable. We’ll compare notes in the morning…Watch yourself, Joe.”

“You too Bennett.”

Diana slipped the cell back into her pocket. There can’t be that many places that would typically carry Wolfsbane or Monkshood, for health reasons or liability at the very least.

Hmmm. Unless you’re an apothecary. In Chinatown. Maybe Lin’s grandfather won’t touch the stuff, but maybe he knows someone who does.

She pulled out a quarter and felt for the correct pipe before tapping out a short note on it.

About two minutes later, Lin appeared at the grate. “Hi! Good to see you!” she spoke softly as she opened the grate and Diana climbed up. “Lunch for just you?” She moved quickly. “Or you picking up lunch for you and Vincent?”

“Both of us,”  Diana answered. Well, probably.

Lin pulled out a notepad. “You want Dim Sum?”

Diana nodded and grinned. But she really did specifically want egg rolls too. Or was that spring rolls?

“You want to pick, or you want me to pick, like a chef’s choice?”

Diana sucked in her lip, contemplating her choices. Lin had never steered her wrong.

“Yes.”

Lin covered her mouth, giggling at the less than helpful statement.

“Your choice Dim Sum for the both of us, and I’d like to also get the egg rolls, the ones with the sweet/spicy sauce.” 

“Spring roll.” Lin corrected her. “Like egg rolls, but better.” she grinned.

Diana caught Lin’s eyes and shot a glance she was done writing their order on the notepad. “Can I ask a favor?”

“Extra chopsticks? I can bring you cheater chopsticks!”

Diana pursed her lips. She’s bound and determined I’ll be proficient with chopsticks one of these days. “Hmmm. Sure!” she snorted “I’m pretty good nowadays, the only thing that still gives me fits is the rice. But that’s not what I was going to ask.” She nodded toward the grate. “Do you remember when we were all talking about the flower, Monkshood?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t want anyone asking around town, because you know how dangerous this guy is. But could you ask your grandfather if he remembers anyone in Chinatown that still sells Monkshood?”

“I don’t think…”  Lin wrinkled her nose. “I’ll ask him.  I'm sure the old people still ask for it. He’s the one who’d know or remember of anyone who did or still does.” 

“Thank you, Lin, I really appreciate it.” Diana suddenly had a moment of clarity in her evidence cluttered mind. “Rats! I should have brought a thermos, I could have picked up  tea!”

Vincent’s golden mane appeared at the tunnel grate. “Have we heard any word from Joe?” He asked as he climbed up to the storeroom.

“How did you know?” Diana demanded as Lin accepted the thermos from Vincent and disappeared thru the door and the light dimmed.

“Lucky guess? I’ve certainly had a craving for good Chinese,” he smirked. “Since Joe took takeout to his associates.” He nodded in the door where Lin had bowed out to gather their lunch.

“You’re still not off the hook mister,” she began as she checked her watch. “Speaking of Joe, Goldenhaar beat them to the safe house.”

“Is Joe all right?”

“Yes. He’s a little rattled, but he’s okay.” She shook her head. “They’re pretty sure everyone’s favorite lunatic poisoned the take out that the officers at the safe house were eating.” Diana adjusted her jacket and continued. “Joe and the officers that were escorting him hadn’t consumed any of the tainted food. What I’m not sure about yet is whether or not…” She paused a moment and let out a low laugh, “...well of course it is.”

“Of course it is, what?”

“Whether or not it was on purpose. Of course it was on purpose.” Bennett folded her arms and glanced at Vincent. “This whole endeavor has been a public service announcement about how we are not beyond his reach, no one is safe from him.”

“But…?” Vincent led, curious as to where she was going with this.

“I’m not sure he intended to kill either of them just yet, or we’re so close behind him that his plans aren’t being completely fulfilled.” She thought out loud as she methodically paced a step at a time. “I do think it’s coincidence and good luck on our parts, that he didn’t get Tim, Joe, or our neighbors. I still think this has been more about the message to all of us, especially me.”

Vincent pursed his lips. “How so?”

“I do think he intended to kill them.” Diana began as she paced slowly around the room. “But we’ve shown up to throw a wrench in the works both times, three times if you count my not being at my apartment.  Either that or we’ve been just lucky enough, and I’d take that too.”

“What can we do now?”

“We aren’t doing anything, Vincent.” She snapped at him. “You aren’t going to go traipsing off to hunt him down like you’re Batman or something!! That isn’t your job.”

Bennett slowly walked toward a taken aback Vincent.

“Diana, I didn’t mean that…” Vincent began.

Just as quickly as Diana cut him off. “Everyone speaks from both sides of their mouth Below. One minute they say ‘oh, that’s not who you are’ and then next they send you off to a bloodbath. It’s unfair, and it’s bullshit, especially when there’s a lot of able bodies down here, they all live there; defending it is everyone’s job.”

“We all know whatever it is that I am, Diana.”

“What you are is a man that has some unique characteristics which can be advantages. Yes, they might be able to benefit us on this case. That still doesn’t mean it is your job or duty to go out like a bounty hunter and use them to find him.”

“But Diana…”

“No.” She cut him off again. “Goldenhaar is trying to get us to lose our cool, act out of fear, and do something rash so he can capitalize.” 

“Remember that before you get restless and try to go to your loft, or elsewhere,” Vincent interjected into her train of thought.

Diana took Vincent’s gloved hand in hers. “As much as it makes me nuts, I know. I keep reminding myself that’s exactly what he wants us to do,” she said quietly and squeezed his hand and smiled. “We just have to stay focused, keep calm and tunnel on… I want to turn the tables on him more than anything right now.  Don’t give him what he wants. Trip him up and catch him making a mistake.” She flashed a smile. “If I can, I’d like to find where he’s been hiding out so forensics can toss it, make him sweat a little.”

The dim light suddenly brightened. Vincent pulled his hood forward and they both slunk to the shadows of the basement and went quiet. When the door opened, and Lin appeared, laden with three take out bags and a thermos they both spilled out of the shadows. The food smelled amazing.  They were both far hungrier than they realized.

“Here you go! I gave you special tea; it’s not Chinese, but it’s really good. A friend of mine makes a hot, Chai tea that is out of this world.” Lin whispered excitedly as she handed Vincent one of the bags and the thermos. “This bag has lotus leaf sticky rice, and stuffed eggplant. She pulled two bags off her other arm and handed them to Diana. “This bag has shrimp noodle roll, taro dumpling, and spring roll. Other bag has the garlic pea sprouts, pork bun, utensils, and sauces.”

Diana plucked up the receipt from Vincent’s bag and fished cash from her pocket. She counted out some bills handed them and the receipt to Lin.

Lin opened her mouth to object, but was cut off by Diana before a peep could even leave her lips.

“Before you even start, I meant to give you that much, that’s a tip for you and the kitchen. I’ve never come here and had anything that wasn’t good. I wish I’d known about this place ten years ago.”

“No, thank you.”

“Oh, and whether grandfather knows or has heard anything about the flower or not, thank you very much for asking, but if you find out anything, let us know ASAP.”

Lin nodded, shoving the wad of bills and receipt into her apron.  “I will. Henry sends love, he’s filling in, in the kitchen today.”

Lin waited for them both to clear the grate before turning out the light, closing and locking the storeroom door.

Back in Vincent’s chamber Diana, Vincent, and little Jacob had devoured most of the Chinese food, and then Rebecca took Jacob to see grandpa. Lin and Henry’s food was always so good; it always tasted like it should have been more, at least they hadn’t eaten too much and made themselves too full.

Vincent and Diana made their way to her makeshift office and pulled out her file boxes and started to pore over details.

Normally this was something she did alone, but this time, since they were all in this together, it seemed to fit. It wasn’t her preference but wasn’t too weird.

Vincent left and returned a few minutes later with a large corkboard that he propped on a table against the wall.

“Is there nothing you don’t have down here?” Detective Bennett asked as she hung up her map of the city.  Going through her notes, she and Vincent put red pins in the areas where they knew Goldenhaar had been: Her loft. Joe’s apartment. Tim’s apartment. Joe’s so-called safe house. 

If she had more information, she might be able to triangulate a suspect area, maybe between Joe and Tim, they could get a few eyes out there. What if they had a few eyes out there?

“Vincent, don’t some of the older kids pick up cans and such above; essentially posing as street urchins? What about any of the adults?” asked Diana as she scrutinized the map. There were miles of their tunnels that went all over the city. “Do you think there are any in the community who are street savvy who could be our eyes when we figure out what area of the city Goldenhaar is probably in?” She organized paperwork and leafed through crime scene photos, mug shots, and exposition. “Do you have anything like what we’d call informants?” She sighed. This was asking a lot. She also didn’t want any collateral damage to civilians, tunnel or otherwise. “I don’t want them really involved, I don’t want them in danger… any more than anyone usually is in the city… or to confront him or anything like that. Just eyes and information.”

“Perhaps. We have asked such of our helpers in the past. Helpers are from many journeys in life; some are homeless, in brownstones, in the projects, houses, or in rent control. I could ask if anyone would be willing to volunteer to only keep us informed if they see anything”.      

“I hope we don’t even have to get to that,” Diana replied.

Q

Chapter 8

Jessica Webb

Diana was finding that working with a partner wasn’t as strange as she’d thought it would be, or at least not as strange as it had been the few times she’d tried it.

She’d been assigned a partner when she’d first started with the unit. It was the way detectives worked. They bounced ideas off each other, respected each other, worked together and had each other’s backs.

Detective Drayton had been a veteran on the force. That was the first problem. He’d been a cop for 30 years, and half of that time he’d been a detective and a damn good one. He didn’t want to use any of the new-fangled methods that his new partner had learned in college, and he’d told her that less than a minute after she’d introduced herself. The deal breaker had come when she’d dared to ask a victim that Drayton was interviewing a question. He’d gone straight to the captain and demanded a new partner.

Her second partner, Cody Grainger, had been closer to her age. When they started working together it looked like it just might work, but after a while she noticed that every time she tossed an idea out, Cody would wave it off, or outright ignore it, but then later it would work it’s way back into their case but as his idea. She was the one who went to the captain that time.

But working with Vincent was different. She could bounce an idea off him or just think out loud in his presence. He didn’t have his own agenda, and he really listened. And sometimes he had a different point of view that could be very interesting.

“I’ve always wondered,” he began as she was sorting through some of her notes, “why you use a map?”

“I’m a visual person,” she told him without looking up. “I like to see things. My board at home has more than just the map. I’ve usually got pictures, clippings, notes. All those things we marked on the map just now are the places that we know Goldenhaar has been since he escaped. The first one was only days after he escaped, so it looks like he had this all planned out ahead of time. He probably hitched a ride here or maybe stole a car. I’ve got people checking to see if there were any stolen cars or unusual happenings in Ossining near the prison. But it’s only 40 miles, he could have walked. He always was a fit individual, and the prison authorities have told us that he’s kept up his fitness regime.  It would only take him a couple of days if he walked. I’m also looking for small things like petty thefts of food or maybe clothes off clotheslines anywhere along the route from Ossining to here.”

“How about places that you knew he was before he was sent to prison?” Vincent suggested. “Would that be of any use?”

“It’s possible,” she told him. “His mother owned a small apartment building in Astoria. He lived there and managed it for her until she died and left it to him. He wound up selling it to pay the lawyer he hired to defend him.”

“Astoria. Isn’t that where the safe house Joe was going to be staying in is?”

“Yeah, it is. Maybe I should add places from his first crime spree.” She pulled out a different file, this one looked older and a bit tattered and handed Vincent a box of blue push pins.

“If you’ll mark the addresses, I’ll read them to you out of the file,” she told him.

When they were done, she stepped back and stared thoughtfully at the map.

“One thing I noticed the first time,” she told him, as she dropped the file on the table and went to stand next to him. “His home was in the middle of all of it. He walked to and from each crime scene, and none were more than 30 minutes’ walk from his home.”

“Were those his only crimes?” Vincent asked.

“The three that we were sure about. Like I said he wants three victims. This time it’s Joe, Tim and me. But the three he killed before were just what we were sure of, there could have been more. If there were there likely multiples of three. When I was working on that case, I found at least 9 other victims that fit his MO. They were killed in sets of 3 at three-year intervals. They went all the way back to 1980, but they were all out of our jurisdiction, and we could only place Goldenhaar anywhere near one of those locations, and that was the first one. He would have been 17 years old at the time.”

“So he’s a true serial killer,” Vincent commented.

“He fits the profile… that is, if he’s guilty of all 12 of those murders,” Diana agreed. “He was seeing a shrink in prison and was diagnosed as having an Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, and the doctor threw in antisocial and paranoid just to round it all out.”

f

They were still at it an hour later when Kipper arrived, out of breath and red-faced from exertion.

“Kipper, you know the rules about running in the tunnels,” Vincent started.

“I know Vincent, but Clarence said Joe wanted Diana to have this as soon as possible.” He held a folded note out to Diana.

“Thanks Kipper, but isn’t it kind of late for you to be out?” asked Diana as she took the note.

“A little, I was on my way back from running an errand for Father when Clarence stopped me with the note from Joe. Said it would save him a few steps if I delivered it.”

Kipper left the chamber as Diana opened the note.

The frown that appeared on her face drew Vincent’s concern.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Two bodies have been found. Probably dead a while. But Joe is reasonably sure that he knows where the poisoned sauce was made.”

“The food that the guards ate?”

“Yeah. Neighbors found the bodies of a woman and her little boy. They smelled something burning and traced it to the apartment. The manager went in and found the bodies. Goldenhaar must have cooked the sauce there, but he didn’t turn the burner all the way off. What was left in the pan eventually cooked down and started to smoke. I need to talk to Joe.”

“Is that safe?” Vincent asked.

Diana thought a moment. Greg Hughs had recently moved to Unit 210, Special Crimes and he’d been put on the case at Joe’s request.

“You’re right. I really need to talk to the detective on the case, Greg Hughs.”

“I repeat… Is that safe?”

“I’ll call from someplace I can get a signal on the cell phone,” she assured him. “I won’t leave the tunnels to meet him anywhere, I promise.”

“Just to make sure, I’ll go with you,” Vincent told her with a frown.   

f

The closest place she could get a signal happened to be the threshold in the park.

It was late when they arrived, and the park was quiet, but Vincent wasn’t taking any chances. He placed himself on the rise above the culvert. He could see for several hundred feet in all directions from there.

He could hear the quiet conversation going on below him as he watched every movement around them.

“OK, Vincent,” Diana called quietly a few minutes later.

“Did you reach him?” Vincent asked after he joined Diana and they reentered the culvert.

“Yeah, he was still at the precinct, wrapping things up. He said that forensics has already analyzed the sauce from both scenes. What was left in the pan was too burned to analyze, but there was enough left on the utensils he used to tell that there was aconitum or aconite in the residue on them. The ingredients of the sauce were also the same as the sauce on the pasta the guards ate.”

They walked in silence for a while.

“Are you sure that what you and Jacob got hold of the other night wasn’t the same thing?” he finally asked.

“Yes,” she said adamantly. “Very sure. We would both likely be dead by now,” she added bluntly. “Granted some of the symptoms were similar, but even in small doses aconite can be deadly. In large enough doses it can kill almost instantly.”

“Do you think that will be his method this time?” Vincent asked.

“Well, in the murders he was convicted of, all three were killed the same way, he slit their throats. And in the other nine, each group of three was killed in a particular way. The first group were all between thirteen and fifteen and they were all beaten to death. The second group was stabbed, and the third group was strangled.”

“He does seem to get up close and personal with his victims,” Vincent said as they arrived back at the chamber Diana was using.

“A lot of serial killers do. And in some of the cases I’ve studied where they didn’t, they knew the victims before.”

Diana yawned and stretched then reached for the file she’d dropped on the table earlier.

“It’s late, Diana,” Vincent said quietly. “You should put this away for now and get some sleep.”

“But I’m just getting started,” she complained. “I do some of my best work in the middle of the night.”

“Sleep, Diana. Start fresh again in the morning.”

“Sleep is highly overrated,” she retorted, then stifled another yawn.

Vincent just stood in front of her with a raised eyebrow and a questioning look.

“All I need is some coffee, and I’ll be good for another three or four hours,” she added.

“The only coffee Below is William’s, and you know he guards his hoard very jealously,” Vincent pointed out.

“All right. You win, but I’m bringing my own coffee in the future.”

“You promise you’ll sleep?” Vincent asked after she’d followed him to the door.

“I promise, but I’ll be up bright and early in the morning!”

She touched his cheek and turned his head until their eyes met. Then she stretched up on her toes and brushed a light kiss across his lips.

“And when all this is over, you and I need to have a serious talk.”

Their eyes held for a moment before he gave her a slight nod then turned and left.

f

Lin Pei slid onto the bench in the dining chamber across the table from Vincent and Diana the next morning.

“You have something?” Diana asked.

Lin nodded and handed her a piece of paper that had a dozen addresses on it.

“I made a lot of calls yesterday, and those are the addresses of the shops that have sold chuan wou tou in the last few weeks. Most of the shop owners will only sell small amounts because it’s so poisonous; usually only enough for one sleeping dose. The addresses with the check marks appear to have sold it to the same man and all of those were repeat sales.”

Vincent took the list from Diana.

“All of those addresses are on the west side of Chinatown,” he observed. “They are all close to your grandfather’s shop.”

“Yes, and when I talked to Grandfather, he said that a man who fits the description of the one you are looking for and the man who made the purchases at the other shops, also inquired at his shop. He told grandfather that he was having trouble sleeping and he’d heard that Monkshood was good for that. Grandfather told him he didn’t sell chuan wou tou, but he told him the shops that do. The man Grandfather talked to originally asked for Monkshood, but the one who made the purchases at the other shops asked for chuan wou tou.”

“Do you have any idea how much he was able to purchase?” Diana asked.

“Four of those shops will only sell one dose at a time, and that is a very small amount,” Lin told them.

“But it’s deadly in small amounts,” Diana pointed out.

“Very, that is why they only sell tiny amounts. The people I spoke to said that the man came in asking for chuan wou tou for sleep. He said he’d heard that it was good. The shop owners all said that they explained that they would only sell him one dose at a time and he didn’t seem to have a problem with that. In one case he even said that he’d hate to buy a large amount and then find out it didn’t work. He took his one dose and left. In each case he was back the next day saying that it had worked great; he’d slept like a baby, and he wanted more for that night. He went back to each shop every day for over a week. At the end of that time, two of the shopkeepers decided that he was responsible, and they sold him enough for a month, but each went into great detail on exactly how much to use each night.”

“So, he likely has enough to kill three people with some left over for the guards at the safe house,” Diana said.

“More than enough, if what Grandfather says is true,” Lin agreed. “Do you have a picture of the man? I’d like to show Grandfather and ask if it’s the same one.”

“I do, but I only have the one,” Diana told her.

“I have an idea,” Vincent put in. “Why don’t we make copies of your photo and distribute it among our helpers. Your idea of having eyes around the city was a good one.”

“Do you have a copy machine down here too?” Diana asked with a twinkle.

Vincent chuckled. “NO, but Peter has one. I can send one of the children up to his office. How many copies will you need?”

“Enough to cover the helpers and anyone from Below who goes Above.”

They thanked Lin and went to Diana’s chamber for the photo.

“Won’t Peter’s staff be curious about some ragamuffin going in to have copies made?”

“They are used to our children dropping things off. Peter has told his staff that he does some work with the homeless, and they don’t question it.”

Diana found the photo. It was a mug shot complete with name and number at the bottom.

Diana shook her head, reached for a pair of scissors and cut that part off. “That might raise a few questions,” she said as she handed the cropped photo to Vincent.

Vincent took it and headed to the door. “You plot the new addresses while I find someone to get the copies.”

f

Diana walked into Vincent’s chamber just before lunch to find it full of children who were diligently folding papers and stuffing envelopes.

Vincent looked up and smiled at her.

“We should have all these distributed to the Helpers before dinner,” he told her as he stacked the sealed envelopes.

“So fast,’ she commented.

“The children will do it. I’ve added notes of explanation and Peter sent the envelopes. The children will distribute them the same way they do the Winterfest candles every year.”

Vincent stacked the last of the envelopes then started distributing them. Each child had their list of Helpers, and the chamber was cleared in minutes.

Vincent still had several envelopes in his hand.

“Those are for the people Below who go Above?” Diana asked as they left the chamber.

“Yes, there are about a dozen who go Above to forage every night and a few more who go up to school or to jobs. I’ll hand these out at lunch.”

f

“Do you think this will help?” she asked later as they walked back to her chamber.

“I have more faith that Helpers might see him or maybe our people who go to school or work Above. The foragers try to stay out of sight, so they seldom see anyone but each other.”

“Did you make it clear to everyone to keep their distance? I don’t want anyone to get hurt, or for him to figure out what’s going on.”

“I made it clear, especially to the children. Everyone carries change, and they’ve been told that if they see ,him, they are to go to the nearest payphone and call Joe. They all have his cell phone number.”

They walked into her chamber and Vincent went right to the map on the wall.

“Have you seen any patterns?” he asked as he studied the different colored clusters of pins.

She walked over and stood beside him. “This is what I told you about last night.” She tapped a silver pin. “This was where he was living while he was committing the murders he was convicted of, and these…” she pointed out the blue pins that surrounded it, “… are places that he either murdered someone or was known to frequent. They are all within a short walk of his home.” She pointed at the red pins that were clustered on the west side of or within a couple blocks of China town. “If he repeats the pattern from the last time, then he should be living somewhere right around here.” She tapped the area just northwest of Chinatown. Do any of your foragers get that far south?”

“It’s only about three miles, and we have several thresholds in that area.”

Diana started pacing the chamber as Vincent stood and watched.

“What is it?” he finally asked.

“I’m just not used to sitting around while everyone else does the work,” she told him.

“You’re working,” he said pointing at the map and the papers spread across the table in front of it. “You’re directing the investigation.”

“But I’m usually out there on the front line, talking to witnesses, visiting the crime scenes, getting a feel for it all of it.”

“The longer you and Joe and Officer Wolfson can stay hidden the better. Goldenhaar could become frustrated and impatient and might get careless.”

“You’re right,” she agreed with a sigh. “But it’s still gonna drive me nuts. There isn’t a lot more I can do here. I’m gonna to have to find something else to keep me busy.”

Q

Chapter 9

Janet Rivenbark

Two days later Diana was wondering what on earth had ever possessed her to go to Mary and volunteer to help her. She’d gone into Father’s study and found the older woman dusting and stacking books. To Diana it looked like a great way to pass some time; she might find something interesting to read, and she thought she could help put some of the books on the new bookshelves along the walls or carry some up to the second level and shelve them there.

But when she offered her services to Mary, Mary had taken it as helping in any of the tasks she normally did, and Diana wound up in the nursery and had spent the better part of her time there for the last two days.

She wasn’t a kid person, not really. She got along fine with Jake because he was bright and often struck her as being more like a miniature adult than a 3-year-old. She did OK with her niece because… well, she was her niece. But being stuck in a room with a dozen toddlers and babies was not her idea of fun. Dirty diapers especially weren’t her idea of fun.  

She was rocking a teething six-month-old when Samantha came into the chamber.

Samantha looked a little unsure, but when she spotted Diana, she rushed across the room to her.

“Can you talk, Diana?” Samantha asked.

“I think I can put the little prince down,” Diana answered with a smile. “He seems to be sleeping pretty soundly.”

She carefully put the baby into a crib then grabbed Samantha’s hand, and they rushed out into the corridor.

“Every time I’ve tried to put him down for the last two hours he wakes up and starts to cry again,” she said. “I think he may have finally wore himself out.” She looked down at Samantha. “So, what do you need?”

Samantha pulled a folded and somewhat battered paper out of a pocket. She unfolded it and showed it to Diana. It was one of the photocopied pictures that had been distributed.

“Vincent said that we should watch for this man.” At Diana’s nod, Samantha continued.
“Well, I think I saw him a little while ago.”

“Where?” Diana asked.

Samantha turned the paper over to show an address that was written on the back.

“I was across the street. I was picking up some paint for Elizabeth, and when I was going into the store, I saw him leaving the building on the corner. After I got the ,paints, I had to pass the building to get back here, and I noticed a sign on the door. It said that the building was going to be torn down and there was a picture of the new building that is going to be built. There was also this phone number.” Samantha pointed at a number written under the address. “And it said to call this number for further information.”

“Thanks, Sam.” Diana hugged the young girl. “I’ll make sure that this gets to the right people. But tell everyone that they need to keep looking.”

She hurried back to the map in her chamber and was studying the location of the address when Vincent joined her.

“Samantha told me that she gave you an address?” he asked.

“Yes, and I’m inclined to believe that it’s a good lead. It’s right in the area that we were speculating that he might be living.”

“So, you can let the police know, and they can go arrest him?”  

“It’s not quite that easy. Yes, they could pick him up because he escaped from prison, but we can’t just storm in there. It might not be him. We have to make sure. The building has been slated to be torn down. There’s is a lot of new construction and development in that area. The person living in that building might be someone that the developer hired to keep an eye on the property until it’s torn down.” She tapped the paper that was laying on the table. “I think I need to go up and make a phone call or two.” She looked up at Vincent. “What to go for another walk?”

It was still daylight so they couldn’t use the park threshold, so they headed to Peter’s. Instead of using her cell phone, Diana decided to use the phone in the basement.

“You’re sure Dr. Alcott won’t mind?” she asked as she pulled a stool over to where the phone was.

“No. He had this phone installed for us to use.”

Diana dialed the number on the paper, and it was picked up after two rings.

“Burch Development Corporation,” a pleasant female voice informed her. “How may I help you?”

Diana had to think fast. She’d never thought that Elliot’s company might be the one doing the redevelopment in that neighborhood. She hadn’t seen him since she was investigating Catherine’s kidnapping and death and she wasn’t sure he’d even remember her name, but she didn’t want to drag him into this investigation.

“Ah, yes… My name is Samantha Wells,” Vincent’s head jerked up and he looked at her when he heard her give a false name. “I’m calling about the building at…” she hesitated then read off the address. “I was wondering if there are any apartments available in it.”

“I’m sorry Ms. Wells,” the woman said. “That building is going to be torn down in a few weeks. And the new one being built won’t have anything available for at least two years.”

“Does your company need someone to stay in it until then?” she asked. “A caretaker? I really need something for now. The hotel I’m staying in is getting expensive, and it’s not convenient to my work.”

“No, I’m sorry. The building doesn’t have any electricity, and the water has been turned off, and the city doesn’t allow habitation under those circumstances.”

“OK, well thank you anyway,” Diana said then hung up.

“It’s owned by Elliot Burch, and there’s not supposed to be anyone in there,” she informed Vincent, as she picked the handset up again and dialed another number. After dialing three numbers and only leaving messages, she hung up.

“Looks like I’m going to have to make a quick trip to the Precinct tomorrow,” she told him. “Joe is out of the office, which isn’t surprising, and Hughs is out working on a case.”

“You can’t call someone else?” Vincent asked.

“Not really. We’ve been keeping this down to as few people as possible. We don’t want Goldenhaar to get wind of anything. I’ll talk to Hughs in person tomorrow morning and get him to put a watch on the building. We don’t want to send anyone in unless we know that he’s there and where he is inside.”

That gave Vincent an idea, but he kept it to himself. When he got back to his ,chamber, he wrote a note to one of their Helpers and sent Kipper Above to deliver it.

When Kipper returned a little while later, he told Vincent that the Helper had agreed.   

f

Alek Kaminski worked for the city as a building inspector, but he owed a lot to Father, Vincent, and the community Below. He’d been a Helper ever since he came back Above and got a job then went back to school.

He looked at the note in his hand. Vincent had explained that he was assisting another Helper who was a cop working a case. They suspected that the guy that Vincent had sent a picture of a few days before was living in a building that was listed for demolition. Alek knew the building. Normally he inspected new construction or renovations; there was really no reason to inspect a building that was going to be torn down, but Vincent had asked, and he’d make sure it got done.

Vincent had also warned him to be careful because the guy they were looking for had escaped from prison, where he’d been serving a life sentence for several murders. If it was the same guy, he could be dangerous.

Alek was sitting in a coffee shop across the street from the six-story structure. He’d been there for over an hour, and he hadn’t seen any activity around the building. All the windows were dark, and there were a chain and a padlock on the double doors on the front. He knew that there was also a freight entrance on the back, and if the guy was as smart as Vincent seemed to think he was, he was probably using that one.

Alek decided that he might as well get this over with. He pulled the lanyard with his city ID on it out of his pocket and put it on. He had the keys to the padlock, the front door and the freight entrance and the master key to all the apartments inside. He had everything, including a clipboard and a real city inspection list. If the guy was still inside, he could probably fake it.

Once inside the small lobby, he locked the doors behind him, then started to methodically go through all the apartments on that floor. As he worked his way up in the building, he was beginning to think that Vincent might have it wrong, but then when he got to the top floor, he smelled coffee… fresh coffee.

He went through the first three apartments on that floor and found pretty much the same things he’d seen in all the other ones: dust, a few discarded pieces of furniture and trash. But as he approached the fourth, the one on the back corner of the building next to the back stairwell, the smell of coffee got stronger.

He didn’t hesitate, he opened the door of apartment 6D just as he had all the others and he even managed to act surprised when he found a man sitting at a beat-up table reading a newspaper. The coffee he’d smell was perking merrily in an old percolator on a small portable bottled gas camp stove.

The man quickly dropped his paper and looked up.

“What are you doing here?” the man asked.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Alek countered, “and since I’m the one with the city ID, I think my question takes precedence.”

“I’m sorry, man,” the guy told him. “I just needed a roof over my head for a little while. I’m starting a new job on Monday, and I should be able to pay for a real apartment or at least a room somewhere soon.” He pointed at the cardboard boxes stacked against the wall. “I’ve still got most of my stuff in boxes, and I didn’t break in, I promise. The lock on the back door in the alley was already broken.”

“Hey, don’t worry, I’m not a cop.” Alek felt he had to make sure the guy understood that. “I’m just a building inspector. This place is supposed to be torn down at the end of the month, and the city just needed one more walk through to make sure all the utilities have been turned off.”

“You gonna throw me out?” the man asked, suspiciously.

“I don’t see any reason to,” Alek assured him. “As long as you are out by the time demolition starts, I never saw you. I understand. I was on the street, between jobs for a while. Someone helped me. I guess I can pay it forward and let you stay here. Just remember that demolition date on the sign downstairs is firm.”

“They gonna blow it up?” the man asked.

“Naw, the other buildings are too close in this part of town. They’ll do it by hand. Supposed to take it down floor by floor over about a month.” Alek turned back to the door. “Remember, as far as I’m concerned you aren’t here. Just make sure you’re gone before the demo crew shows up.” He stepped out into the hall and closed the door behind him. His heart was pounding so hard that it was difficult for him to finish his inspection and leave the building.

From there he made his way to the closest threshold, which happened to be in Wong’s Herb Shop in Chinatown. He scribbled a few things on the paper on his clipboard as he walked.

He was met by one of the sentries before he got very far. When he asked for Vincent, the sentry sent a message and a short time later was able to tell him that Vincent was in the classroom, he’d just finished a class.

Vincent met Alek halfway, and they went to his chamber where they could talk.

“Is he there?” Vincent asked after they entered the chamber.

“Oh yeah,” Alek said with a sigh of relief as he sunk on to a chair. “He’s there. Looks like he’s been there a while. There were a few pieces of beat up furniture. I didn’t get beyond the front room of the apartment, which is 6D by the way, but he has a camp stove to cook on, and there was a cooler on the floor in the part of the kitchen that I could see. And it’s definitely the guy in the picture you sent out a few days ago.”

“Did you see anything else?” Vincent asked.

“There are two stairwells in the building,” Alek told him. “One in the front and one in the back near the freight entrance. He said the lock on the back is broken, but I’m afraid I didn’t hang around to verify that. There are two locks on the front, the actual door lock and a chain and padlock. The cops will have to pick up the keys from my office or from Burch Development. The keys I used will be back in our office right after I leave here.”

“Is there a fire escape?”

“Yeah, but it’s on the opposite side of the building from the apartment he’s in…” Alek stopped as he pictured the inside of the apartment. “He had a lot of boxes stacked in the room. He said it was his stuff for when he found a place to stay. But they just didn’t look like moving boxes. You know, most people get boxes from the grocery or the liquor store, and they are always a little beat up and taped closed with something like masking tape. But these boxes were all the same, and they were in good shape and looked like they were factory sealed. They were all from the same herb and spice manufacturer, and they were only two different kinds: oregano and garlic powder.”

“You’re observant,” Vincent said approvingly.

“Goes with the job. Building inspectors can’t miss anything, peoples’ lives could depend on it… and there was one more thing,” Alek added. “There was a glass bowl on the bar between the kitchen and living area. It was filled with a greenish-gray powder, and there was a piece of plastic wrap over it. And there was a set of measuring spoons, a surgical mask and a pair of gloves like the EMTs wear on the counter beside it.”

“How big was the bowl and how full was it?”

“Oh, I guess it was about ten inches across and maybe about four inches deep. One of those Pyrex bowls that everyone has. It was maybe three-quarters full.”

“And he didn’t suspect anything?” Vincent asked.

“I don’t think so. I waved my city ID in front of him and told him that I’d been in his shoes, and so as long as he was gone by the time the demolition starts, as far as I’m concerned, I never saw him. He never even got out of his chair.”

“Thank you, Alek. You’ve been a great help. I’ll pass this all on to Diana.

When Alek was gone Vincent found Diana in the nursery. He didn’t pass on any of the information until they were back in her chamber.

“What is it?” she asked when they arrived.

Vincent told her about asking Alek to do some reconnaissance on the building that they suspected Goldenhaar was hiding in.

“Do you realize how dangerous that was?” Diana snapped out. “He could have been killed if Goldenhaar had been there.”

“He was there, and Alek is just fine, and he’s sure that he didn’t even put your suspect on alert.”

“Vincent, when I said that you needed to stay out of it and stay safe, I didn’t mean that you should endanger anyone else.”

“I explained to Alek what was going on, and he understood the risks. He wouldn’t have done it if he’d thought it was too risky. He’s a smart young man.”

“Did he find out anything helpful?” Vincent could still hear the exasperation in Diana’s voice.

As Vincent related everything that Alek had told him, Diana took notes, and when he got to the description of the boxes, she really took notice.

It was several minutes before she looked up at Vincent and he was surprised to see that she was smiling.

“That’s it. Wolfson, Joe and I aren’t his targets. We are just the red herring. His targets are the people of New York. The stuff in the bowl is likely the powdered aconite he’s acquired. And it’s obvious he’s been getting it from more places than the ones Lin had listed. He’s planning to use it to spike the spices in the boxes. Oregano and garlic powder are probably two of the most commonly used herbs aside from salt and pepper, at least here in New York City.”

“How does he plan to distribute it?”

“He’ll probably just carry it around and add them to what is already on the store shelves.” Diana jumped to her feet and grabbed her bag off the chair. She started stuffing files and notes into it. “I’ve got to go Above and talk to Hughs.”

“You sure you’ll be safe?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. I said it once before: We aren’t the targets. Besides, it’s broad daylight, and I’m going to be in the precinct.”

“I’ll go with you,” Vincent said. When she looked at him with raised eyebrows, he added: “As far as the threshold. You’ll need a guide there and back.”

When they reached the threshold, Diana pulled out the cell phone, turned it on and handed it to Vincent.

“I’ll call you if I change my plans,” she promised.

f

Diana charged into the precinct surprising everyone with her presence.

“Aren’t you supposed to be keeping a low profile?” her Captain asked when he saw her.

“Yeah, well, that’s not important anymore. Where’s Hughs,” she asked. “Is he here?”

“Just saw him in the break room. Why?”

“I’ll tell you when I’ve talked to Hughs.”

She headed down the hall and almost collided with Greg as he was coming out of the break room. She grabbed his arm and hauled him into one of the interrogation rooms across the hall.

“Bennett, what are you doing here?” he demanded as she dumped the contents of her bag on the table.

“I’ve figured it out!” She pointed at a chair. “Sit!”

Greg shook his head, but he sat. Diana was definitely a force to be reckoned with.

She started spreading the files out as she told him the same story that Vincent had told her.

“And who was this guy who spotted Goldenhaar?” he asked.

“A building inspector. Just one of the many people I know in and about the city. That isn’t the important part.”

“And you found out about the wolfsbane or aconite or whatever it is, how?”

“Another contact I have, she’s a friend.” Diana stretched the truth a bit. “Her grandfather is one of those Chinese apothecaries down in Chinatown. She saw the picture of Goldenhaar and recognized him as someone who had been in her grandfather’s shop. After I heard her story, I started putting it together. It all came clear when Kaminski told me what he’d seen.”

Joe had told Hughs about Bennett’s track record, and when he’d joined the 210 the rest of the crew, there had more stories about how she worked. He wasn’t inclined to argue with her.

“So, we know where he is, and what he’s likely planning. I say we move on the information as soon as possible,” he said.

Diana was relieved that she didn’t have to convince him.

“Wait until dark,” she advised.

“Why?”

“That is one of Goldenhaar’s quirks. He’s always home shortly after dark. He might be out most of the day, but he will be home within an hour of it getting dark. Moving on him between 11pm and midnight will probably be the best time. And the sooner, the better. We don’t want to give him time to distribute any of the poisoned herbs.”

“We could put the word out about the herbs,” Greg suggested.

“And if it was widely disseminated, he’ll know we are onto him. Prepare a release about it but wait until you have him in custody before you put it out.”

Diana spent the next hour going over the files with Greg and helping him plan and put together his task force.

“So, you want to be in on the bust?” Greg asked as she was getting ready to leave.

“No, I don’t like the limelight. I’ll just wait until I know that he’s out of circulation. Joe knows how to reach me.” She shook Greg’s hand. “Good luck.”

She didn’t have far to go to reach the threshold she’d used, and she found Vincent waiting for her there.

“They’ll raid the building between eleven and midnight tonight,” she told him as he took her bag and helped her off the ladder. “I’ll be able to go home tomorrow.

“I for one would like to witness that. Just to be sure that you will be safe going back to your apartment.”

“Hughs will call Joe, and then Joe will let me know.”

“Would you like to watch.”

“Watch?” she asked.

“We could have a good view from the roof of the building across the alley from that building. It’s the same height, also supposed to be torn down for Elliot Burch’s latest project.”

“We can get there and stay out of sight?”

“Unless they are planning to use helicopters.”

“That wasn’t part of the plan that I discussed with Hughs.”

“Then we can do it.”  

f

Diana and Vincent arrived on the roof of the building across the alley a few minutes after 11:00. It was an overcast night, so there was very little light. Diana had dressed in dark clothes and covered her hair with a scarf. Vincent was swathed, as usual, in his cloak.

They went to the waist-high wall that went all the way around the roof, and Diana pointed out the faint light in one of the windows on the back of the building.

“That must be where he is,” she whispered.

They didn’t have to wait long before Vincent spotted dark shapes moving through the alley below them. He mutely pointed them out, and Diana peeked over the wall.

“That’s them,” she whispered. “I could make out guns.”

They both watched as the group silently filed into the building.

Silence reigned, then suddenly the night was alive with sounds. There was shouting, lights were flashing in the apartment, there were even a few gunshots. Then it was quiet again.

Seconds later police cars started showing up, sirens blaring and lights flashing. A dark van pulled up to the door in the alley below them. They were both very pleased at the sight of a man, they assumed it was Goldenhaar, being escorted out and pushed into the van. Two other men got in behind him, the doors were slammed, and the van sped off.

“It’s all over except for the cleanup,” Diana told him as they climbed back down the fire escape and headed for the threshold. “Forensics will bag all the evidence and try to determine if he was actually able to distribute any of the spiked herbs.”

Just as they reached the threshold, Diana’s cell phone rang, and she answered.

“Hi Joe,” she said. She tapped a key so Vincent could hear the conversation as they walked.

“They got him,” Joe said.

“I know. We saw it.”

“You saw it?” She could tell she’d just taken the wind out of his sails.

“Vincent and I were on the roof of a building across the alley. We saw it all, but thanks for calling. Looks like we will both have to go back to work now.”

“Yeah. I don’t know about you, but I’ll be glad to get back. I’m just not looking forward to the stacks of work that I know I will find on my desk.”

“I’m sure that the Captain will have something lined up for me,” Diana said. “I have to go now. I’ll talk to you when I’m back. Bye.”

She pushed a button and pocketed the phone.

“What will happen if he has distributed some of them?” Vincent asked once they were back in the tunnels.

“If there is any doubt, everything of that brand will be pulled off the shelves all over the city, and people will be advised to discard any that they have bought recently. We will do our best to protect the city. How about William? Has he gotten any new herbs in the last few days?”

“We haven’t had any new deliveries in over a week, so we’re probably safe. But I’ll make sure he knows.”

f

LATE THE NEXT EVENING:

Diana stood in the middle of the main room of her loft. It hadn’t been this empty since before she’d moved in. Joe had said that Goldenhaar had done a number on the place, but she guessed she hadn’t pictured the half of it.

Pictures had been taken of the destruction, and she’d found a note on the kitchen counter that told her that copies of them and a copy of the police report would be in her department distro as soon as they were available. Then, surprise, surprise, the guys had cleaned up the mess.

Among the missing items were her sofa and chairs, all the throw pillows, her desk, and her work board, the TV, the stereo, the refrigerator, her kitchen table and chairs, all the furniture and bedding from her bedroom, all the clothes from her closet and chest of drawers and all of the rugs. All of her liquor was gone, and there were no toiletries or make-up left in the bathroom; the whole loft smelled of bleach.

She didn’t even want to know. In fact, she just might drop the photos, police report and her list of the items destroyed off at the insurance agent’s office without even looking at them.

There was no food left in the place except for some canned goods that all the labels had been stripped off. That was going to make for some interesting meals for a while. The only ones she could identify was the tuna and a can of sardines.

Someone had left an air mattress in the bedroom, so at least she’d have something to sleep on until the insurance money came through and she could start replacing things.

Her head snapped up as she heard a light tapping on the skylight above her head. She caught a glimpse of Vincent as he turned away from the window. She met him at the door to the roof and led him back to the living room.

“I’d invite you to have a seat and relax for a while, but…” she waved at the room around them. “As you see, all I can offer is the floor.”

“That will work out just fine.” He held up a picnic basket. “You left before dinner, and I thought you might be hungry.”

She grinned at him. “Now that I think of it… This will be the first time I’ve had an indoor picnic since I was a kid.”

Vincent set the basket down and pulled an old bedspread off the top and spread it on the floor. The set out the food and seated themselves.

“How long do you think you’ll have to live like this?” he asked.

“I’ve got some savings,” she told him. “I’ll use that to buy some necessities like a bed, a refrigerator, and some clothes. I’ll wait on the insurance money for the rest.”

“You know, you’re welcome to join us for meals or even continue to stay Below until you get everything replaced.”

“Yeah, I know that, and it’s a great offer, but I’ll be working out of the precinct for at least the next couple of weeks until I get everything here replaced. It might be too much of a risk for me to commute from Below every day.”

He nodded somewhat reluctantly. “Maybe the weekend,” he suggested.

“Maybe,” she agreed.

There was a pause, an unusually awkward one as he stared down at the roast beef sandwich in his hand. It was at least a minute before he looked up.

“So,” he said, “you mentioned a few days ago that when everything that was going on was over, we needed to have a serious talk… Is it over now?”

She smiled and scooted a little closer.

“Over enough, I think,” she said then leaned closer and kissed him.

T