Eileen inhaled deeply, and when she spoke, her words were bitter. Ive spoken to the police, Mr. Connolly, which of course you would imagine I had done. And I dont know if he warned you or not, but it was your old friend Sergeant Adair who suggested I call you, but not until after he gave me a speech about all the other disappearances that are perplexing him. I gather the police are trying to keep whats been going on with those prostitutes under wraps, though of course its not working. People talk. And those disappearances have been going on for more than a year.
But your niece wasnt a prostitute plying her trade downtown, he reminded her.
She waved a hand in the air. I know. And we all know that plenty of people not involved inin the trade disappear, as well. But I got the impression that Sergeant Adair sees some relationship between those disappearances and the fact that I havent heard from Genevieve.
Joe was confused. He knew that Robert Adair was tearing his hair out over the continued disappearances of prostitutes in the downtown area. There were no clues, no trails of blood. The girls just disappeared, but the police knew they hadnt just moved onunless theyd moved on without saying a word and leaving all their belongings behind. But what would the daughter of a millionaire have in common with a bunch of missing prostitutes?
I think this remains a very sensitive area for the police. The women whove disappeared are adults. Adults have a right to move on in their lives.
Eileen stared at him, her eyes scorning his words. We both know the truth.
She was right. It had begun over a year ago. A few months apart, two prostitutes had vanished, but since there had been no clues and no signs of foul play, little had been done when their friends reported them missing. Then a homeless transvestite known as the Mimic had disappeared. Then two more young women.
She leaned closer to him, her eyes still flashing. She might be rich, but she could be tough when she needed to. The thing is, prostitutes murdered by their johns usually turn up somewhere. A homeless man who freezes to death is found on the pavement. But these girls disappeared off the streets without a tracejust like Genevieve. Do you think aliens are beaming these people up, Mr. Connolly? I dont. I think there is a serial killer at large in New York who knows how to dispose of bodies so theyll never be found. I thought it was disgraceful when I first heard about the disappearances and the apparent lack of concern on the part of our government on the local and even the state level. Now? Im incensed. Dont get me wrong. Im not angry with the poor cop just trying to work his beat. Im furious that someone doesnt step in and say, These people count! And now I havent heard a word from Gen in so long, and every day Im more and more worried, and though it doesnt seem that I have any power, I do have money.
All right, lets look at this from the beginning. Your niece was a social worker, yes?
Yes, here in the city, Eileen murmured. Up until a little more than a month ago. She found it terribly frustrating. She inhaled deeply. And not just the job itself. In my family, we were supposed to makeor marrymoney. Both my brother and I were terribly hard on Gen, and all she wanted to do was make life easier on those who didnt have the same advantages we did. The frustration and red tape got to her, as well, butnone of thats what matters now. This is the point, this is why I think theres a connection. Shed been working to help prostitutes in the same area where prostitutes have been disappearing into thin air. Dont you see? Im sure she knew some of those missing girls! Eileen herself seemed ready to explode at that moment.
Do you know any particulars on why she quit her job?
Eileen waved a slender, elegant hand in the air. Irritation with the system. She wanted to get workfare programs goingshe wanted to help some of the girls keep their children. She is really an extraordinary human being, Mr. Connolly. Oh, I am so frustrated. No one seems to believe that I know that somethings really wrong. The police cantor wontdo anything.
I do understand your frustration, Joe told her, but you have to understand that the police are seriously frustrated themselves. The point is, these are disappearances. Theres nothing for them to go on. And the people who have disappearedin this particular situationhave lived transient lifestyles, which makes it very hard, as well. They can question those closest to the victimsif thats what they are. They can question people up and down the streets where the victims were last seen. Theyve harassed known pimps to the point that their behavior borders on the illegal. But absolutely no one so far has seen anything to indicate foul play. Meanwhile, the police still have murders, rapes and robberies to deal with, crimes with sadly obvious victims. Theres only so much they can do when they have no victims, no murder weapons, no blood trails, no evidence of any kind.
Blood trails? Eileen said, her eyes snapping. They have to find out whats going on and stop it before we discover that were in a river of blood! And before my niece is discovered lying dead somewhere. But theyre not going to find out whats going on because, as you say, they have to deal with the blood they do see on the streets. Im not calling our police incompetent. They try. Sergeant Adair has, I believe, been ordered to find the explanation for these disappearances, no matter what. Theyve searched Gens apartmentif she disappeared by choice, she did so with only her purse and the clothes on her back, not even a good coat. Theyve been to her former office. Theyve tried to question people on the streets. Sadly, I know nothing about her real friends. Or if she was dating. The basics have been done. Theyve proved nothing. Except that shes gone, which I already knew. So Ive hired you.
Ill do my best.
And you will find Genevieve, she said passionately. Because you will make finding her your priority every single morning from the moment you open your eyes. Ill reward you highly.
He pocketed the picture. You know my fee. I dont work to be rewarded highly. If I take a case on, its part of my every waking moment until I have an answer. But Ill need your help at all times. Be ready to answer my calls, he warned her. I need to assimilate all that Ive learned from you tonight, then get busy on my own and see what else I can discover. But Ill need more help from you. Ill need everything. Everything you know, anything that occurs to you. And dont hold back on me. Im in your employ. Ill never repeat anything you tell me. Dont let any family embarrassment hold you back from being entirely truthful with me, do you understand, Mrs. Brideswell? I cant help you if you arent completely honest with me. No amount of money will change that.
She nodded. Reaching down, she found her purse and produced a small notepad. Ive written down everything I know, what names and places Ive heardanything I can think of that might be some help. She produced a pen, scribbling down another notation. Ive added the publication I was talking about, she murmured. Thats it.
He accepted the notepad from her. Ill do everything I can, he told her.
She picked up the teacup before her on the table, her eyes distant. She drank what must have been very cold tea by then.
Im very sorry about your cousin, she said softly.
Im very sorry about your cousin, she said softly.
Thank you. The words took him by surprise, though he knew instantly what she meant.
His death was a tremendous loss to the city, but for you, of course, it was very personal, and I extend my sincere condolences. Her eyes began to water. I was there that night, you know, she murmured.
I didnt know, he said.
I learned later that Gen would have been interested in going. In retrospect, Im glad I didnt know in time to invite her. Shed met a lot of people involved through the years. She had a lot of close contact with the policebeing a social worker and all. And she knew Greta through me, of course.
Joe couldnt help himself. He leaned forward. What do you remember about that night?
The lights, the music, the beautiful clothing, the glamourI was in the entryway when the explosion occurred. They rounded us up and got us out immediately. I remember standing on the street and just being incredulous. I remember the sound of the sirens, the ambulances, the paramedicsand the body bags, she said. I am so, so sorry.
Thank you. Eileen, do you remember anything strange at all? he pressed.
She gave him a pained smile. You lost someone you loved, so you want there to be a reason, a better explanation than a gas explosion. No, Im sorry. Its all a blur. I was chatting, there was a noise like thunder. Someone was screaming fire, people were panickingthe cops came and we were all ushered out.
Joe nodded. Just what had he been hoping for?
Thank you, he repeated.
Her eyes met his, and her words were desperate. I have to find Genevieve, Mr. Connolly. Please help me.
Although her posture still seemed so regal and aloof, he reached across the table and laid his hand on hers. I will do everything I can, he told her solemnly.
She almost smiled. And then she turned her palm up and gripped his hand in return. Her touch was strong, and as desperate as the sound of her voice.
They talked for a few minutes longer about Genevieve, and as the girl in the picture began to come to life for him, Joe began to make mental notes as to exactly where he would begin his investigation. First he would go over the basic police work. Then he would move on to where the police, by virtue of their sworn duty, could not go.
There were others in the house.
He knew that from the beginning.
At first it was only a vague sense of awareness. They paid him no mind, seemed not to see or recognize him, but even so, he was aware that he was not alone.
There was the woman in the kitchen, for one. She was always by the hearth, stirring something in what he imagined had been a pot over an open fire. She was pretty and young, and wore Colonial garb, including a little mobcap on her head. He wasnt sure if she had been an illicit mistress or a servant, but she hummed in a pretty voice as she stirred. Every so often she would suddenly straighten, her face pinching into a mask of pain. She would turn around, and her eyes would widen, and then she would falland fade away.
There was the soldier in the entry. He staggered into the house, mingled with the misty form of another individual. He would whisper something about a betrayal, and then he, too, would fall and fade away.
He didnt want to be one of them. He didnt want to spend eternity standing by the hearth in the servants pantry, laughing pleasantly, looking across the roomand then disappearing in the memory of an explosion.
After a while he realized that in addition to playing out their final moments over and over again, they did more. They recognized one another, though they might not have come from the same time. They mingled now and then.
While he
He didnt need to worry about eternally haunting the servants pantry. He couldnt even manage that much. He could only beaware.
So why was he there? Just to ache? Just to yearn and fear constantly for the woman he had loved? Damn it. Not fair. Hed lived his life as a decent man.
Others had died with him, so where were they? He didnt have any sense of them whatsoever.
He saw the workmen. Heard them talk. Perhaps it should have been gratifying to have even that much contact with what had once been his world. To hear their anger that he should have died in such a stupid freak accident. They had respected and admired him. Nice to know, except that he was still dead.
Then came the day when the woman at the hearth turned to look at him at last. She even gave him a little smile. Maybe he was somehow real then. She walked over, and it felt as if she touched his cheek, like a sweet sister. It takes time, she told him, and smiled again.
All he could whisper was Why?
She shrugged sadly. Justice? Something that must be known? The man who murdered me walked free. Perhaps its too late and the world will never know. So much time has passed. But its not so horrible, really. Maybe were here because weve more to learn?
There was a comfort in her contact. Soon after, the soldier acknowledged him, too.
Then the burning question began in his mind. Why? There had to be a reason why he was here and the others whod died that night werent.
The question dominated his thoughts, filled him with the resolve to know the answer, to solve the mystery of what had happened.
Sometimes, though, he thought of Leslie. Good God, how he had loved her.
It was late when the phone ring, but Leslie wasnt asleep. And, oddly enough, she knew immediately who it was.
Hi, Nikki.
Youre getting good.
Nothing to do with intuition or special gifts, Leslie said with a laugh. Its late, but weve been on the news, and I knew that youre the one person who might be calling.
How do you feel?
Great. I got to help find closure for people, in a weird sort of way.
Exactly, Nikki said.
Leslie could picture Nikki. Slim and vivacious, with brilliant blue-green eyes. She led tours in New Orleans and loved history. She loved her city, too, and was working hard to bring tourism back to New Orleans. But she and Brent had taken time out to help Leslie adjust to life with the dead popping up now and then. What had seemed like a curse had almost become a gift with Nikki and Brent so serenely at her side.
Hows everything going in your neck of the woods? Leslie asked.
Step by step, but were coming back. So many neighborhoods are still in need of total rebuilding, but well get there. And you? Everything all right?
Great. I thinkI think we may have seen the last of the reverend.
Ah. Well, bless his heart. SoI guess youre going to see to the details now? My history is a lot easierI just talk about it. You spend hours brushing dust off yours.
Leslie wondered why shed thought that Nikki already knew what she was about to do.
Actually, she replied, Im going home.
Home?
New York. I was born in the South, but New Yorks been home for a long time now. Theres a new project there, a site nearnear Hastings House, and Im going to work on it.
Are you ready? Nikki asked flatly.
YesNoMaybe.
Then?
Im not sure Ill never actually be ready. I think I just have to do it.
The phone line was silent for several seconds, and she knew that Nikki was carefully weighing her next words. Leslie, you do know that although weve come to accept certain things and learned to use our abilities to a degree, we dont have all the answers. Youre still fragile, whether you want to believe that or not. So be careful. And dontdont let yourself get trapped in the past, in what was. Youre here. Youre alive.