The Garden of Betrayal

12

The heat of the whiskey dissipated rapidly in the cold night air as I walked south on Second Avenue and then west on Fifty-seventh Street. Long crosstown blocks carried me through the shuttered heart of Midtown, the brightly illuminated shop windows forlorn in the absence of daytime crowds. Kyle Wallace was left in the trunk of a red BMW… By whom? And in what condition? Head down and collar turned up, I quickened my pace.

I figured out where I was headed only when I arrived. Carnegie Hall is at the intersection of Fifty-seventh and Seventh, a tan brick building that looks like an outsized college library. A uniformed usher told me the concert was due to end in half an hour. I crossed the street and sheltered in a doorway, knowing Claire and Kate would pass by on their way to Eighth Avenue, where they could catch a taxi uptown. Covering my face with my hands, I prayed Kyle hadn’t suffered.

A rush of early departees signaled the end of the performance. I spotted Kate ten minutes later. She was wearing the navy peacoat she’d had on earlier, but she’d switched from jeans and sneakers to dark slacks and fancy leather boots with a low heel. She had hold of Claire’s arm with one hand and was gesticulating emphatically with the other as she made some point. Claire was wearing a long black dress coat, and she was nodding. Heads together, they looked almost like sisters. Attractive as Kate was, Claire had been wrong to worry all those years ago that her daughter might outshine her. She was still the most beautiful woman in the world to me.

I stepped back into the doorway, hiding in the shadow as they passed. I knew Reggie was right about telling them, but it wasn’t time yet. I’d needed to see them, though, if only to remind myself that I hadn’t lost everything. I watched until they disappeared into the crowd before turning and heading east, back to my office. It would be hours before I was physically exhausted enough to sleep. In the interim, I thought I might as well get some work done.