Thanks. I carry my own, he told her.
In a few minutes, hed secured the cup that Avery had been drinking from. Lets go. He flipped his phone out and put through a call. Ellis? Hey, yes, Ive met with Angus Avery. I want the limos that worked that film site yesterday impounded. Youll need warrants, but you wont have a problem getting them now. I want Forensics going through them.
He listened for a minute. I know everyone is working around the clock. Get the limos in anyway. Theyll get to them. He listened again. Yep, thanks, Ellis. He hung up and looked at Whitney.
Where to now? she asked.
Jude hesitated, and then offered her a twisted grin. Im going to drop off the cup at the lab, and then Im bringing you home to meet Dad, Whitney. Seems like the thing to do after this conversation.
Andrew Crosby lived in Hells Kitchen, also known as Clinton, which, for some reason, had become a more politically correct term for the area. His home was in a building that appeared to have been built in the late eighteen hundreds. Flowers grew in little patches of earth that might be called a yard, and when they entered the hallway and climbed the stairs to the two second-floor apartments, one of the doors was open.
Jude actually lived in the same building; his was the apartment next door. Years ago, when the place had gone co-op, his father had purchased the apartments. His dads foresight was something for which he was eternally grateful. Living in New York was expensive.
At first, too, after his mothers death, hed been glad that he was so close. And now, with the life he led, it was still good to be next door. Andrew had never been the type to intrude; he was there when needed.
Jude, been expecting you all day! his father said in a booming voice, greeting them at the entry.
Whitney, meet my dad, Andrew Crosby. Dad, this is Whitney Tremont. Shes with the feds who have been sent down on this case.
A fed! Nice, Andrew said, greeting Whitney warmly. Naturally, Whitney still seemed lost, since he had told his dad that she was there, but hadnt told her anything about his father other than that he was good at puzzles, knew the city like the back of his hand and would be expecting him. I have pasta ready for the pot, and Ive been brewing up a sauce all day. Its meat sauce. Im sorry, I wasnt expecting you, Agent Tremont. I hope youre not a vegetarian.
Im not, but I do have a team member who is, if you ever need to host us all for some reason, Whitney told him. She was smiling. Well, his father was likable.
As they chatted, Jude saw that Whitney learned that Andrew Crosby had worked his way up the ranks without benefit of higher education, and he had reached the rank of lieutenant. Hed worked the worst streets, the most unusual crimes and, been commended for bravery several times. Hed retired just a decade ago, when Judes mother had first been diagnosed with cancer. Hed spent every day at her side until she had slipped away.
Since youre having me to dinner, I hope Im able to return the favor, Whitney told him.
Well, I must say, seems that Id like that, if the rest of your team members are anything like you. But, of course, weve got a situation going, Andrew said. You two havent been watching television, I take it?
What now?
Here, Ill show you, Andrew said.
He led them past the entrance. The apartment was just as it had been a decade ago. Jude had finally convinced his dadwhen his mom had been gone two yearsthat she would have been angry with him if he hadnt given her clothing and shoes to Goodwill. But the throw she had knitted remained on the couch; her doilies still covered the occasional tables. The only concession his father had made to modern living was the entertainment center; he had a good flat-screen television, a sound stereo system and even Rock Band and a Wii Playstation.
As they followed him into the living room, Andrew picked up the remote control and hit a play button on the television.
Jude frowned, not certain what he was watching at first. Then he realized that the two beautiful young people on the screen were giving a press conference.
Bobby Walden and Sherry Blanco, Whitney said.
Yep, Andrew said.
The leads in Angus Averys movie? Jude murmured.
I knew her only briefly, only in passing, Bobby said. But Ginger Rockford was a beautiful person, and were all horrified at her death.
This movie is dedicated to her memory! Sherry Blanco put in, dabbing at a tear.
But arent you afraid? Arent you afraid to continue filming? one of the reporters asked. Jude squinted. It appeared as if theyd done the press conference in front of the Plaza. They were standing on red-carpeted steps, and the press was kept at a distance by velvet ropes. It was almost like a premiere night.
We cant be afraid, Bobby said. We owe it to Ginger to finish the film.
And, of course a man in a suitone of their agents?stepped in front of the microphone of course, were increasing security on the set. Were cutting all night hours and doubling up on our security personnel. And weve negotiated new locations for the rest of the shoot, though! Rest assured. We will remain in this great city!
Those words were greeted by a roar of applause.
Theres a murderer on the streetsa heinous killerand what really matters is that Americas sweethearts are going to finish a movie, Jude said thoughtfully.
Nothing you can do about pop culture, son. I just thought you should see this, Andrew told him. She didnt do it, Whitney said. Too small. I dont think she could have managed the kind of strength needed, Andrew agreed.
Jude looked at the two of them. They had taken up positions on the sofa, watching as Andrew ran the recorded version of the press conference.
Thats great. You two have eliminated a suspect. Now we just have to eliminate about another eight million people or so, Jude said.
Youll get it narrowed down, Andrew said with confidence.
Jude lowered his head, hiding a smile. His father always had confidence. Hed never given up on one of his own cases, though it was true that far too many went unsolved, despite the best work of dedicated people and excellent forensics labs.
The press conference ended with a public service announcement: Sherry Blanco begged the women of New York City to be careful, and to be safe. When two anchors came back on, talking about the celebrity of those involved, Andrew shut the television off.
Praise for the novels of Heather Graham
An incredible storyteller.
Los Angeles Daily News
Graham wields a deftly sexy and convincing pen.
Publishers Weekly
A fast-paced and suspenseful read that will give readers chills while keeping them guessing until the end.
RT Book Reviews on Ghost Moon
If you like mixing a bit of the creepy with a dash of sinister and spine-chilling reading with your romance, be sure to read Heather Grahams latest Graham does a great job of blending just a bit of paranormal with real, human evil.
Miami Herald on Unhallowed Ground
Eerie and atmospheric, this is not late-night reading for the squeamish or sensitive.
RT Book Reviews on Unhallowed Ground
The paranormal elements are integral to the unrelentingly suspenseful plot, the characters are likable, the romance convincing, and, in the wake of Hurricane Katrina, Grahams atmospheric depiction of a lost city is especially poignant.
Booklist on Ghost Walk
Grahams rich, balanced thriller sizzles with equal parts suspense, romance and the paranormalall of it nail-biting.
Publishers Weekly on The Vision
Heather Graham will keep you in suspense until the very end.
Literary Times
Mystery, sex, paranormal events. Whats not to love?
Kirkus on The Death Dealer
Sacred Evil
Heather Graham
www.mirabooks.co.uk
For NYCan amazing place, and for a few of the people who have also made it more amazing by being there.
For Aaron Priest, and all those at the agency: Lucy Childs, Lisa Vance, Nicole James, Arleen Priest, and John Richmond.
And, of course, for my MIRA Books editors in the Big Apple: Adam Wilson, Leslie Wainger,
Margaret Marbury, and Krista Stroever, who went above and beyond and walked the streets of the old Five Points region with me. Thank You!
Yes, ready for my cemetery tour now !
Prologue
Someone was following her.
Stalking her.
Shed heard the footsteps. Among the deserted streets and the canyons of tall buildings; the sound seemed to echo from everywhere.
The night was extremely dark, and, Ginger Rockford thought, you would have believed that the streets were lit by centuries-old gas lamps, as theyd supposedly been during the filming that day.
A hot afternoon had turned into a chilly, misty night, and a fog was rolling in from the river.
The area seemed ridiculously quietexcept for that sound she heard now and then, a click-click, like a footfall, and then a shuffling noise, as if her stalker dragged a foot.
Great. Chased through the streets by a gimp.
It was New York City, for Gods sake. Millions lived on this tiny island.
So where the hell were they all now?
Ginger turned around to look back in the direction from which she had come. She could still see the row of trailers on Whitehall Street; she had just left one. Sammy Vintner, fat-old-ex-cop studio guard, was still on duty, but she saw that he was on the phone.
He was the only living soul she saw.
There were markers where the tape had been that had held the crowd back during the day, separating the filmmakers from the plebs hoping to catch a glimpse of megastar Bobby Walden.
She cursed Bobby Walden. While shed waited, believing that he was really going to call her, Bobby had surely been picked up by a big black limousine.
Bobby was a somebody. She was a nobody.
But at least Bobby had spoken to her. The female lead, Sherry Blanco, had almost knocked her over, and she hadnt even apologized. Well, maybe Sherry would learn. Ginger had done a lot of studying up on actors and their careers. She estimated that Sherry Blanco had about three years leftshe was nearly thirty-five, and it was starting to show. Sherry was pretty, but she couldnt really act. Nor had she been known for any kindness to the young hopefuls with whom she had worked. Ginger hoped with her whole heart that she might be a rising star when Sherry was a burned-out has-been.
At least Angus Avery, the up-and-coming director, had noticed her. Okay, so his words werent every girls dream. Perfect! I mean, damn, do you look the role of the immigrant prostitute, her dreams already vanquished! That was how she had gotten to be the one on Bobbys arm, and how she had managed to flirt with him.
And then he had said that they needed to hook up, and taken her phone number.
So she had sat in the trailer well past time to leave; Missy Everett and Jane Deaverwho had played the other two young prostitutes in the scenehad begged her to leave with them. Their day of extra-stardom was over. They should celebrate, and wonder if theyd wind up on the cutting-room floor.
She, like a fool, had refused to leave; shed been waiting for Bobby. And she should have left. The set was a construction site. The ugly old building that had been there had been razed to the foundations and a few structural walls. There were rumors about the site; bad things had happened there. She didnt really know whatshe wasnt into history. Maybe it had been an old burial ground. But it had been perfect for the set designers when they had installed their prefabricated backdrops and facades, and it had been right next to Blair House, a truly creepy old place. She hadnt been spooked during the day. The day had been chaotic with actors and crew, one shot being set up while another was being shot, sometimes over and over again if Avery didnt like the lighting or the camera angle.
How had she managed to be the very last one on set? Oh, yes, waiting and praying that Bobby would really call her.
Sammy had emerged from his guard post. Hey! she called back, hoping that he would pay attention, see her and wait for her to come running back. Shed even take a ride with disgusting fat Sammy at this point.
He wasnt looking her direction. He was going off duty, heading away from her. She should have accepted a ride from him when hed offered, but shed been convinced shed find a taxi right away.
Who the hell knew that the area dried up like a prune once it got late at night?
The guard disappeared behind one of the trailers; hed been anxious for her to go, of course, once shed refused to ride with him. Shed been the last one near the trailers, the only one left who had been working on the on-location day-plus shoot for OLearys, a tale about crime and prostitution in the eighteen hundreds in New York City. One of the pubs in the area had had the right interior, and the buildingsexcept for the gap where the old Darby Building had so recently stoodwere perfect. The gutted area and the work tents set up on the old site were shielded by a blue screen for the moviemaking; New York was not a city to make do without the income a permit for such work would secure for the city. Nor, with the preservationist-supporting liberals to be found in the area, could a recently discovered historic site be disturbed.