But Robert, Ken Dryer and Hank Smith were probably the only ones in his group to have access to a contemporary black sedan at a moment’s notice. Tyson, Smith and Tryon would have a fleet of cars. And as high-ranking officers, both Dryer and Adair could use any car in the police motor pool.
He put through a call to Eileen Brideswell. “I need help. Now,” he told her.
In a few minutes he was ushered through to the office of Lieutenant Grayson. Grayson was nearing sixty, thin and haggard. He lowered his head in thought as Joe laid out what he knew, which was, sadly, mostly hypothetical. He refrained from saying that he didn’t want to take this evidence to Robert Adair because he was on the suspect list; he managed to make out that Robert was overworked and he didn’t want to burden him any further.
Before Genevieve O’Brien was found as a rotting corpse, as well.
“I can give you three men,” Grayson said. “And permission to enter the tunnels.”
“That’s all I need. Thanks.”
“Thank Eileen Brideswell,” Grayson said. It was obvious that he was feeling pressured into offering help. Why not? He already had a key officer on the case.
Grayson put through a call to a man in charge of the Metropolitan Transit Authority, and then Joe was on his way with three uniformed officers in tow. In a few minutes they were met at the functioning subway entrance nearest Hastings House by an MTA employee named Gregory Breen.
He offered Joe a map. “How good this is, I don’t really know. Once you leave the main system, you’re in no man’s land. No one has used a lot of the old tunnels since…hell, the twenties, maybe.”
Breen took them down, leading them through an employee route to a tiny station somewhere below Broadway, where they came to a locked door. He unlocked and opened it, and they came face-to-face with a wooden barricade.
“Told you,” Breen said. “These tunnels have been blocked off for decades.”
Joe reached toward the wooden barricade, which collapsed at his touch, the wood rotted and soft.
“Well, I’ll be a monkey’s uncle!” Breen exploded.
“Do we really need candles?” Leslie asked.
“Why not set the mood?” Adam replied cheerfully.
“Got any good wine?” Leslie asked dryly.
“Sit,” Nikki told her.
They’d brought a table into the servants’ pantry, and set three candles on it. Some light still filtered in from the main kitchen, but the small room itself was shrouded in shadow.
“What now?” Leslie asked.
“We hold hands,” Adam said.
“And then…?”
“Leave it to Nikki.”
As they sat there, Leslie closed her eyes. Somehow it seemed like the right thing to do.
She waited, wondering what words Nikki would say to try to conjure the spirits. But there was no hoopla.
“Matt,” Nikki said softly. “If you’re there, we need help. We know that you’ve been trying to reach Leslie, that you have reached her, but we need more help from you. Please, if you can…”
Nikki was still speaking when Leslie first felt him. Somehow she knew he was by her side.
And when she turned, she could see him.
He was there, and yet he wasn’t there. He was only the merest suggestion of a form in the air, but at the same time he was the man she had known, tall, handsome and, at that moment, serious. She forgot that Nikki and Adam were present and stood, slipping into his arms. He wasn’t real, but somehow she could feel him, feel his touch on her hair, his strength as he pulled her against him. And she could hear him. “Leslie, you’ve got to get out of here, all of you. He came in by the front door. He knows the combination.”
“Who?” Nikki’s question was Leslie’s first indication that she wasn’t the only one hearing Matt.
“I don’t know, but I know he’s close. I fought him last time, but I couldn’t stop him. Please…get out.”
Suddenly the house was pitched into blackness, only the candles offering a respite from the all-encompassing darkness
“Someone’s here,” Adam said.
And Leslie felt suddenly cold.
Matt had left her.
“What exactly are we looking for?” Officer Dale Nelson was young, just out of the academy. Joe didn’t mind that fact. Nelson was willing and adventurous. He was just uncertain. Whether Nelson or O’Hara and Myers, the two older cops, believed in their quest or not, they had been told to listen to him and give him their best. He’d sent the two veteran cops down a northeastern tunnel, while he had chosen the more westerly one for himself and Nelson.
Closest to the prostitutes’ street, Hastings House, the dig—and the site where they had found the body earlier. If Leslie really had heard sobbing from inside Hastings House, he had to be going in the right direction. If only the remains of the system didn’t add up to such a labyrinth. Progress had left behind a bone structure that was now sad and dilapidated.
And dark.
“We’re looking for a room of some kind. A room that might be used as a cell,” Joe explained. “Look for anything that might be a door.”
“Gotcha,” Nelson said. Suddenly he let out a hoarse cry.
“What?” Joe demanded.
“Rat,” Nelson said apologetically. “Sorry.”
“Right.”
They kept on trudging.