Page 35 of To Have and to Hold

She stepped up to me, her nose barely clearing my chin as she tipped it up. “As you so much as admitted, you’re not officially part of Emme’s investigation. You’ve gone rogue. Which means that you are as much a concerned citizen as I am, and have as much rights as I do. So, either I follow behind and shout things at these people, or I’m at your elbow helping you parse through any necessary information. Ah-ah—” She held a finger to my lips when I tried to open my mouth—“You also stated that out of the two of us, I know her present self best. I have, what is it you hotshot lawyers say, I have pertinent details that could be crucial to any questions you ask. And vacation days. You got nothing to argue with, Rolfe.”

I squinted at her, and in that two-second time frame weighed the pros and cons of staying here and arguing with her or accepting defeat and getting on with things.

I turned out the door.

And assumed she followed behind.

#

We started with the parking garage nearest to the rented-out lofts. By luck, the three people manning the garage were also some of the same men who were working the night Emme was taken. I asked them all the right questions, did they see anything suspicious, hear any strange noises, and Becca helpfully added the question about the parking regulars, and if there were ever any men who talked too much about a girl they were interested in or who tended to park only at night. Without a subpoena, I couldn’t get an actual log or access to surveillance, but the guys were willing to talk. It was disappointing to hear that while there were a few friendly regulars who happily chatted to them, none met the mark.

“We mentioned this to the cops that came around this morning,” one of them said as we were making our way out. “Gave them access to surveillance, too. Anything you guys need, we’ll provide, okay?”

“Great, thanks,” I said, then tipped them a wave as we rounded the corner.

“Do those guys think we’re also cops?” Becca asked under her breath, as if they could still hear her over the roar of the Astin-Martin that just drove in.

“They can believe whatever they want to believe,” I said, writing while walking.

“Isn’t that illegal? Impersonating a policeman?”

My attention remained on my notes. “At no point did we say we’re with the NYPD.”

“Yeah, but letting them think we are is just as bad, isn’t it?”

I halted and she stumbled to a surprise stop beside me. “Questioning our morals isn’t going to get us any closer to Emme. If you want to hang around, you have to be willing to do things my way. Got it?”

Becca’s brows flattened. “Yeah, sure. Fine.”

“Great.” I started walking again, and she trotted up beside me. “Next stop, the bodegas.”

Becca eyed the many convenience stores lining the street. Some advertised beer and cigars, others candy and caffeine. All were packed to the brim with any random supply a New Yorker needed, from pet food to a plunger. “Uh. Any one in particular?”

I pointed. “That one.”

The bodega south of the lofts, on the next block. When Emme broke free, she’d made a run for it, her bare feet skidding in the slush before he’d hooked her again. Perhaps someone working there had heard her scream.

“Why that one?”

I didn’t feel the need to put that picture in Becca’s head. “Start on the inside, work our way out.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Becca said. “Then are we going up? To the place where—where it happened?”

“We can’t get access.”

“You mean, we’re not going to cut through the yellow crime scene tape and sneak a look ourselves?” Becca asked. “Spence, you disappoint me.”

I said out of the corner of my mouth, “You watch too many movies.”

“I’ve always wanted to be Olivia Benson,” Becca said, skipping along beside my strides. The interviews had given her energy, and the spark that she’d been missing when I met her in her apartment had ignited in the way I remembered. Purpose did that to a lot of people.

You don’t want to see the blood up there, I almost said to her. And I wasn’t about to show her.

I stole a glance at Becca, wondering how long it would take for her positive outlook on life to ebb as much as mine had.

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