Burning Time

66

“Hey, April Woo. What the hell are you doing out here?”

April stared in surprise at the large red-faced desk sergeant. She had just stepped into the Astoria precinct near where she lived and was startled to hear her name. She didn’t think she knew anyone here.

“I don’t believe this. We go to school together, through the Academy together, and you don’t remember me,” the sergeant said, throwing up his hands. “I’m really hurt.”

She struggled for a second, trying to fit the familiar voice into the chubby form in front of her. The guy was fat. Nobody in the Academy was fat. Nobody she ever knew was that fat.

“Come on, April, it’s—”

“Oh, my God, it’s Tony.” She moved forward to shake his hand. “God, Tony, you’ve put on a few pounds.”

“Yeah,” he said sheepishly. “It happens.”

“What are you doing sitting at a desk in Queens? Last time I saw you you were on foot patrol in Little Italy.”

“Yeah, you got out of that faster than I did. Weren’t you in a car in Brooklyn?”

“Oh, God, has it been that long? I was a detective in the Fifth for four and a half years after that,” she said proudly.

“The old neighborhood. Hey, that’s great. I’ve been here for three years.” He shrugged. “Can’t complain.”

“Better not,” she said with a smile. “I live around here.”

“No kidding? You never stop in. Where are you working now?”

April made a face. “Upper West Side, the Two-O.”

He whistled. “Manhattan. You have all the luck.”

April ducked her head. She had known he would say that. There were over thirty-five thousand cops in NYPD. Once people got posted in the hinterlands, it was like they were filed away in a drawer and forgotten. It was real hard to get into Manhattan after a few years in Queens or the Bronx. Only way was to be in some special unit. April spent a second of spiteful satisfaction thinking of Jimmy Wong, not ever likely to come out of Night Watch in Brooklyn. Ha. She was going to be sergeant before him. Make him lose face twice. Double stupid Jimmy Wong.

This was amazing. She had been standing there talking to Tony for almost three full minutes without a single interruption. Boy, this place was really quiet. She’d probably shoot herself if she had to work out here. She had left the car double-parked outside. There was hardly any traffic, and nothing much going on outside the precinct on the street. Really quiet.

The building was more like the 5th in appearance than the Two-O. The Two-O was big, a blue brick building that looked like a school. This was made of sandstone that was dark with age. It was low and squat, old and shabby.

“So, if you didn’t know I was here, to what do we owe the honor of your visit?” Tony said, attempting gallantry.

April had a quick vision of the captured noblewoman in the cave and shook her head. “Have you had a complaint last night, or maybe today? A woman, thirty-three, white, name of Emma Chapman?”

He shook his head. “What about her?”

“She disappeared from the street last night in Manhattan.”

“What makes you think she’s out here?” Tony looked unimpressed.

“It’s a long story. There was an incomplete nine-one-one from Queens last night. Might have been her. There are a few other indications.”

“Look, April, you better go upstairs. There’s a shift change in a few minutes. I’ll ask around when the guys come in, see if anybody knows anything.”

April pulled the sheets with the photos of Emma Chapman and Troland Grebs out of her bag and handed some over. The face of Emma Chapman jumped out at her again. The high cheekbones, the generous mouth, Caucasian eyes, blue as the sky on a sunny day. The colors of the woman that didn’t show in the black-and-white repro were summer colors. She had white skin and hair the color of sand, pale sand, red lips. April wore red lipstick, too, sometimes; but her colors were winter. She had black hair and black eyes tucked deep in Mongolian folds, brown skin. The kind of beauty Emma Chapman had was not just in the eye of the beholder. She was beautiful to anybody who looked at her. In the picture Emma had a wedding ring on her finger and a gold chain around her neck. April had no good jewelry except some pearl earrings, and a jade ring for good luck. It wasn’t a very good piece of jade. It was too dark a green, and it didn’t give much luck.

“These are the people we’re looking for,” she told Tony.

“Who’s the guy?”

“He’s the suspect in her abduction.”

She turned and headed up the stairs to the detectives’ room. They were always on the second floor and looked pretty much the same. A lot of desks, filing cabinets, a questioning room with a big table where the detectives sometimes had lunch. The obligatory lockers in the back. The only difference was this one had a wet patch in the ceiling from which a steady drip was falling into a half-filled pail on the floor. The room was empty. As April studied the drip in the bucket, a voice came out of nowhere.

“If they don’t come and fix that soon, the whole ceiling will come down on us. I hope it happens after eleven. I’m Detective Bergman. What can I do for you?”

April took two steps further into the room before she realized that Bergman’s desk was hidden behind a bank of filing cabinets. Very clever. He could see her, but she couldn’t see him. She crossed the room toward the voice.

“Detective April Woo, from the Two-O,” she said, showing her ID. She tried not to be startled when she finally got a look at Bergman. He was a burly man with intense dark eyes that seemed to jump right out of his briar patch of a beard.

“We need some help with a search,” she added.

“Who you looking for, Detective?”

April pulled out her copies of the two tapes and the photo sheets and settled into the hard metal chair by his desk.

“You have a tape machine?” she asked.

Bergman with all the hair on his face nodded curiously. Yeah, he had a tape machine. It was just after four. April hoped Sanchez would hurry up and get over the bridge before the traffic got worse.