Page 36 of To Have and to Hold

We canvassed the entire area, and against my better instincts, I admired Becca. She didn’t complain when I added another, then another, then one other person to talk to, or lose steam during the repetitive questioning. She caught on pretty quickly that while we talked to many different people, the same questions had to be asked. Did you hear any suspicious noises between 9 and 11 PM? Were there any individuals that seemed out of place wandering the streets during this time? Is there any one particular person that comes in that has been rude or given you the creeps? Did you notice a dark colored van?

A constant litany of inquiries, but Becca never tired. She even purchased her own notebook at our third bodega and dubiously took notes along with mine.

I spoke to the current guard on duty at the lofts, found other doormen at neighboring buildings, and at one point was pulling random people on the streets aside, asking them if they perhaps lived around here or were in the neighborhood during the pertinent time.

Nothing.

Nobody had heard or seen anything.

By 6 PM, Becca was finally showing some wear and tear.

“You can go home if you want,” I said to her as we trudged down the block, away from where Emme was last seen.

“No. I want to keep at it if you are.”

“I’m not about to stop.”

“How about to eat?” Becca asked. “Pretty sure we haven’t even had lunch.”

“We can grab something at a food cart. I think there’s hot dogs over on the corner.”

“Hell.” She caught my elbow. “To the no. Even you have to concede we cannot interrogate and eat at the same time.”

I lightly pulled out of her hold. “It’s already past the first forty-eight hours. We have to keep going.”

“Without fuel?” I’d started walking again, and she had to catch up with me. “Water?”

“You chose to come with me,” I said without a break in stride.

“Good…God,” she said, becoming out of breath. “You’re a robot. But even robots need to reboot. I’ll make you a deal.”

“No deal.”

“Let’s go back to your house, get something to eat there. Do you still take copious secret notes on your cases in dark rooms?”

That had me stopping.

“Aha! Knew it. So, we’ll order something in while continuing to work. Go over all the notes we’ve taken, combine them, see if we’ve missed anything.”

At my silence, she pressed. “I know you want to. Going over compiled information and finding little nuggets used to be one of your favorite things to do. And productive. We could still help Emme while helping our bodies.”

I frowned at her, but couldn’t argue the point. The sun was down, and I’d be an asshole not to notice the shakes and shivers coursing down Becca’s body every time we stepped outside. I refused to mention my fingers had gone numb over an hour ago. “Fine.”

She clapped her hands together, her notebook tucked under one arm. “Excellent! I’m going to order us a car. No arguments, subway boy. It’s too friggin’ cold to wait on those platforms.”

I debated telling her that I lived all the way in Bay Ridge.

Then I thought, nah, the look on her face when her app charged her once we arrived would absolutely be worth it.

#

“Next time,” Becca said as she uncurled from the car and I stepped out after her, “You are going to tell me you live ass-deep in Brooklyn.”

“Assuming I let you tag along next time,” I said. We walked up to the three-story townhouse and I turned the key.

“Admit it, I’ve been helpful.”

“Somewhat.”

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