Page 11 of To Have and to Hold

My steps made no sound as I followed Knox through the screech of a metal door and up the side stairs, which allowed separate access to the building rather than through the lobby, then to the fourth floor. The booties on my shoes, pale blue and hospital grade, added an additional cloak to the already deserted street. The financial district, as a rule, had an amazing ability to burst at the seams with people and workers during the day—shouting and dodging—and exhaust-fueled trucks, the air wafting with scents of oil and pretzels and vanilla-scented nuts, and yet completely collapse in on itself at night. Once the sun went down, a black hole of silence prevailed: shops closed, streets empty, cars sparse, breaths loud. Footsteps obvious.

Knox had met me outside of Emme’s building, not that it was really hers or even where she worked. But it was her last location, an event space she was scouting according to both her assistant and the final entry written on her online calendar, and the area in which she’d been taken.

Abducted.

As soon as I hung up with Knox I raced over to where he was to see if I could add anything to the investigation, even though I hadn’t seen her in two years.

“I don’t have to give you the breakdown,” Knox said as he pushed open the fire escape door to the fourth floor. “Like don’t touch anything, watch where you step…”

I shook my head.

“Careful.” Knox pointed to a scatter of receipts, tissues, lipstick—Emme’s things—on the floor, spilling out of a black purse to the right of the opened elevator, spotlights illuminating her previous struggle. The ghosts of the past transposed into the present and I fought not to think about someone hooking under Emme’s arms, dragging her into the elevator, her feet kicking out and knocking into her bag, clicks and clatters flying across the floorboards….

Knox prevented me from stepping on Emme’s strawberry lip balm. She still wears it. Wore it. I touched my tongue to my lips, a memory tic that assumed I could still pick up that kind of sweetness from her.

“I could get into a lot of shit,” Knox said. “So, do me a favor man; I know this is a helluva fucked up moment, but try to watch where you’re going.”

It was in Knox’s best interest to allow me entry, if only for five minutes. He and I both knew I’d figure out a way in regardless. It would’ve been criminally easy, and I used that pun with emphasis. There were a lot of cops in the 1st Precinct and only Knox would realize that a Manhattan ADA, a title that could gain access to a crime scene with a flash of my shield, would have ties to the abducted woman over at John Street. My impromptu visit could get us into a lot of shit and even put my legal license on the line. But common sense hung onto me by nothing but a spider’s thread when it came to Emme. I’d have to report it to my superiors at some point, but not at three o’clock in the morning. Knox, being the legitimately paranoid detective he was, figured he’d better be beside me as I strode into this crime scene rather than flailing behind my crazed ass to get to Emme’s last known movements.

Mumbles and camera clicks sounded around the corner of this empty, L-shaped space, with white flashes of light following soon after. I moved forward with Knox’s unobtrusive assistance, my focus trained on those flickers. “How bad is it?” I asked.

“The galley kitchen is over there, where we think the confrontation primarily took place. Cupboards are open, oven grates are on the floor, there’re some scratches in the wood and laminate counter. Some blood, too.”

“Some?” I repeated.

He nodded as we rounded the corner. “Not enough to indicate severe injury. And we don’t know whose it is yet.”

“Emme would’ve landed a few on this motherfucker,” I mumbled, then realized I spoke aloud when Knox replied without missing a beat, “Fuckin’ right she did.”

The scene in front of me was like any other, except that two years ago, I’d been in love with the woman whose remnants were being photographed.

“Don’t step in too far,” Knox said, his hand clamping on my arm before I could launch. “Let them do their jobs.”

Three men from the Crime Scene Unit stood in the small kitchen wearing coveralls, hats, latex gloves and surgical booties that prevented them from contaminating the area with their own DNA. One guy was placing tiny triangular markers around the apartment cataloging every detail he found and photographing every inch of the apartment. Processing a crime scene is tedious work and CSU is the best at it. Meticulous, attentive, and relentless. These guys were more scientists than cops.

Another officer stood to the side near the entrance to the galley, his arms folded across his chest, watching us warily as soon as Knox calmly restrained me.

I swallowed, the back of my throat becoming grit. “Give me more info.”

Knox pulled out his small spiral notepad from his back pocket. “Emme’s an event coordinator. Was planning a college co-ed’s surprise birthday party and this was a potential location. We spoke to her assistant who was meant to meet her here but got held up on the four train. Delayed because of a signal malfunction.”

I dragged my hand across my mouth. “So, she was here alone. At night. In a completely unsecured building and on an abandoned floor.” Damn it, Emme. The city that never slept sure as hell took catnaps in this area as soon as nine o’clock hit. She’d always been so impulsive, disregarding her safety because she assumed it would always be there. “Any perv could’ve seen her on the street, followed her in, seized the opportunity.”

“Maybe.” Knox watched one of CSU guys bend down and swab a bloodstain. “We don’t have much time. Lead detective will be here soon and we’ll want to meet him outside. He might have some questions for you.”

I fisted my hand. “You can’t think…”

“Of course not, Spence. But you gotta think. We have a key forty-eight hours to find her, which means we need to find out everything about Emme in ten minutes or less. All the things she’s done, where she’s been, who she knows or who knows her…” Knox took a breath. “Even if it means talking to her ex-fiancé of two years ago. You two still live in the same city.”

My chin lowered in agreement, but I didn’t know how much help I’d be. Time was between us now, and I didn’t have a clue what Emme’d been doing or how she was living during all that space. We didn’t stay connected on social media. There was never a time I downed a bottle of whiskey and decided on a late-night trolling of her online accounts. When we were done, we were finished. That was how I was. I didn’t tear into the past or relive any weak moments; I torqued forward instead, intent on carving rather than restoring.

“Let’s get out of here,” I said, and turned around.

“The blood is minimal, she obviously fought, and most importantly…” Knox said as we entered the stairwell.

“There’s no body,” I finished for him, though the tone that escaped me was unfamiliar. I was used to saying things like “victim,” “body,” “wounds,” “blood splatter,” as I found arguments and buried the defendant with evidence…but the ease and surety with which I said these words all made sense now. It was because I’d simply assumed I’d never have to apply these things to my own life.

“Emme’s probably still alive,” Knox added.

I stared at the silver metal of the firesafe door as it shut behind us, our watery images taking shape. “Minimal blood doesn’t indicate survival. She could’ve been stabbed in the chest, at the exact spot in the heart where blood loss wouldn’t follow. Or her clothes—it’s winter, so her jacket—could’ve acted like a sponge.”

“Jesus, Spence.”

My gaze possessed deadened weight. “I don’t have hope, Knox. I’ve seen too many of these to have hope.”

Knox’s image was clear enough to show his frown. “You and I may be jaded, but we’re smart enough to look at the facts first. Not suppositions. And the evidence tells me she was taken out of here in one piece.”

I let my attention stray from our wavering images to meet his solid form. “You know something.”

“Yeah.” He took the lead down the stairs, taking the steps a beat faster than I was. “The elevator’s interior and the lobby are under video surveillance.”

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