He lowered his lashes for a moment, then slid on a pair of dark glasses, effectively shielding whatever thoughts might have been evident in his eyes. He shrugged. “I saw a dark sedan leaving here last night. Just thought I should stick around.”
She smiled slowly, a little irritated, but mostly grateful. “You’ve been here all night?” she asked him. “Thanks. I think. But, come on, you’re a private investigator. How many dark sedans do you think there are in New York?”
“Okay, more than a few. Want a ride to work?”
“A couple of blocks?” she asked.
“Want a walk to work?” he asked.
“Sure.”
He got out of the car. The sun was just beginning to come up over the southern tip of Manhattan. Skyscrapers reached up toward the heavens, bathed in a delicate pink light. There was no hustle and bustle yet. The muted pastels hid the sins of the city, cloaking the trash and decay.
She glanced over at Joe as they walked. He reminded her so much of Matt. She wanted to be close to him. Feel protected by his height and size. Touch his hair, stroke his shoulders.
Because he reminded her of Matt, she told herself. Which was a bad reason.
And it wasn’t fair to him at all. He was a fine man in his own right.
“By the way, I’m sorry,” she murmured.
“For what?”
“I know you lost someone, too. A girl…”
He gazed at her, offered a rueful smile, shrugged. “That was a long time ago.”
“Do you ever really forget?” she asked.
“You don’t forget, but you do go on. You learn to laugh when you remember good things. A certain smile, a way of doing something. Oh, there’s the guilt, too, of course. Why am I alive, when someone who deserved to live so much is gone? I’ve made my peace with the past.” He was silent a minute. “Eventually, you will, too. It’s harder when it’s not the natural order of things, though. I still miss my parents, but they had a great life together. I honestly think my father died of loneliness after he lost my mother, but they were older and it was their time. But when it’s someone young, cheated out of a natural life span, I guess we can’t help but be bitter. But the truth is, long or short, life is a gift, and so long as we’re alive, we need to appreciate that fact.”
She grinned at him. “Trust me, I am grateful to be alive.”
“Then you have to live your life to the fullest. Not just for yourself but for Matt. Follow your dreams. Look to the future.”
She laughed. “Well, for me, that means digging for the past.”
“Absolutely.” He slipped his hand around hers and squeezed it.
A policewoman stationed on the corner near the dig gave them a pleasant nod. Leslie noticed that there was a greater police presence around the entire site than there had been previously. She stopped walking and looked around for a moment. So much that was new had been built on top of so much that was old, so much that was underground. Hastings House had been part of the Underground Railroad. She smiled ruefully to herself. She didn’t know why that thought kept recurring to her. The word underground didn’t always mean literally “under the ground,” she reflected. Sometimes it meant below the scope of authority.
New York was definitely an underground city in every sense of the word.
“Where’s the big excitement?” Joe asked.
“What?”
“You’re staring awful hard at something.”
“Sorry—just looking at the site and the buildings and…Just looking.”
“New York. Gotta love it,” Joe said.
“I do. Look at all the cops. I guess someone decided to step up security,” she said.
“Your little ‘accident’ yesterday turned this into a major find,” Joe reminded her.
At the gate, there were two guards. Leslie started to reach for her identification, but the taller one nodded at her and said, “We all know you, Miss MacIntyre. Come on in.”
“Well, I’ll leave you here,” Joe said.
“And I’ll see you tonight. If you’re awake,” she teased.
“I’ll be awake,” he promised her.
She walked on through the temporary wire gates that allowed entry to the site and carefully made her way through the grid, heading straight for the entry to the crypt.
Glow lights that couldn’t possibly catch fire had been set in two corners of the room. Leslie left them where they were and fumbled in her bag for her flashlight. Turning that on, she looked around.
Laymon, bless him, had already staked out his territory. Large signs propped against two niches in the wall read Do Not Touch!!!
But there was no such sign on the niche where Brad and Laymon had found the record book. She hoped it hadn’t already been taken away to be preserved. She felt a little guilty, knowing that any touch might injure the old paper, but she had a feeling she might find a reference to the woman whose remains she had found, as well as to the child, Mary, and she was determined to find the little girl’s remains so she could reunite mother and child.