react to her not showing up. Would he keep scouring his computer for emails that would never come? Would he search the faces of strangers and imagine he saw hers? Would he just forget and go on - and, when she really mined her true feelings, did she want him to?
No matter. Survival first. His anyway. She had no choice. She had to go.
With great effort, she tore her gaze away and hurried down the stairs. There was a back exit that led out to West Third Street, so she'd never even had to enter the park. She pushed the heavy metal door and stepped outside. Down Sullivan Street, she found a taxi on the corner of Bleecker.
She leaned back and closed her eyes.
"Where to?" the driver asked.
"JFK Airport," she said.
Chapter 30
Too much time passed.
I stayed on the bench and waited. In the distance I could see the park's famed marble arch. Stanford White, the famous turn of-the-century architect who murdered a man in a jealous fit over a fifteen-year-old girl, had purportedly "designed" it. I didn't get that. How do you design something that is a replica of someone else's work? The fact that the Washington Arch was a direct rip-off of the Arc de Triomphe in Paris was no secret. New Yorkers got excited over what was in effect a facsimile. I had no idea why.
You couldn't touch the arch anymore. A chain-link fence, not unlike the ones I'd just seen in the South Bronx, encircled it so as to discourage "graffiti artists." The park was big on fences. Almost all grassy areas were lined with loose fencing - double fencing in most places.
Where was she?
Pigeons waddled with the type of possessiveness usually associated with politicians. Many flocked in my direction. They pecked my sneakers and then looked up as though disappointed they weren't edible.
"Ty usually sits there."
The voice came from a homeless guy wearing a pinwheel hat and Spock ears. He sat across from me.
"Oh," I said.
"Ty feeds them. They like Ty."
"Oh," I said again.
"That's why they're all over you like that. They don't like you or nothing. They think maybe you're Ty. Or a friend of Ty's."
"Uh-huh."
I checked my watch. I had been sitting here the better part of two hours. She wasn't coming. Something had gone wrong. Again I wondered if it had all been a hoax, but I quickly pushed it away. Better to continue assuming that the messages were from Elizabeth. If it's all a hoax, well, I'd learn that eventually.
No matter what, I love you...
That was what the message said. No matter what. As though something might go wrong. As though something could happen. As though I should just forget about it and go on.
To hell with that.
It felt strange. Yes, I was crushed. The police were after me. I was exhausted and beaten up and near the edge sanity-wise. And yet I felt stronger than I had in years. I didn't know why. But I knew I was not going to let it go. Only Elizabeth knew all those things - kiss time, the Bat Lady, the Teenage Sex Poodles. Ergo, it was Elizabeth who had sent the emails. Or someone who was making Elizabeth send them. Either way, she was alive. I had to pursue this. There was no other way.
So, what next?
I took out my new cell phone. I rubbed my chin for a minute and then came up with an idea. I pressed in the digits. A man sitting across the way - he'd been reading a newspaper for a very long time there - sneaked a glance at me. I didn't like that. Better safe than sorry. I stood and moved out of hearing distance.
Shauna answered the phone. "Hello?"
"Old man Teddy's phone," I said.
"Beck? What the hell-?"
"Three minutes."
I hung up. I figured that Shauna and Linda's phone would be tapped. The police would be able to hear every word we said. But one floor below them lived an old widower named Theodore Malone. Shauna and Linda looked in on him from time to time. They had a key to his apartment. I'd call there. The feds or cops or whoever wouldn't have a tap on that phone. Not in time anyway.
I pressed the number.
Shauna sounded out of breath. "Hello?"
"I need your help."
"Do you have any idea what's going on?"
"I assume there's a massive manhunt for me." I still felt oddly calm - in the eye,