Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 114419 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114419 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
“That’s what I thought too. And look, there’s an X there.”
“X marks the spot,” he murmured. “But what spot?”
“Could that be a bridge?” Mirabelle asked, pointing to an arched shape near the bottom of the wall to their left.
“It could be,” Gavin murmured.
“If that is a bridge,” Sienna said, “then those are probably waves.” She pointed to the small swooshes beneath the arch.
“There are several bridges here spanning the Truckee River,” Gavin said. “Do any of them mean anything to you?”
“No. You?” She turned. “Mirabelle?”
He and his mom shook their heads. “The bridge is off in the distance, though,” Mirabelle said. “It seems like this”—she pointed to the intersecting lines above them—“is the main focus.”
Gavin agreed. But what were they supposed to make of a bunch of intersecting lines, with the only landmark a distant bridge?
They all stood there for a while longer, looking at the details of the lines, the swooshes. Gavin did a few more searches of the room, mostly to keep himself active so he wouldn’t get so overwhelmed with frustration that he became useless. Sienna huffed out a breath, walking to the other side of the room and then leaning against the far wall as she took in the map. “Oh my God,” she said.
“What?”
She walked forward, her head tilted as she stared at the orange drawing. “It’s the Bayonne Bridge in New York City. It connects Staten Island with New Jersey.”
“Are you sure?”
“I think so. Because this shape way over here looks like Yankee Stadium.” She used her finger to point to the rounded sort of triangle to Gavin’s right.
“And see,” she went on, pointing to two narrow channels on either side of them. “That would be the East River,” she said, pointing to their right, “and that would be the Hudson.” She moved her finger to the left.
“Okay,” Gavin said, a buzz of anticipation giving him a small burst of renewed energy. “So what would this be?” he asked, pointing again to the X that was obviously the focus of this massive, scrawled, unlabeled map.
“Well, the Financial District would be all the way down there,” she said, pointing to their feet. “So this up here would be . . . Harlem.”
“What does Harlem mean to you, Si?”
Her head moved back and forth over the map as though she was orienting herself. “It was where I worked,” she said. He was silent as he watched her, obviously figuring something out. Just like the box in the previous room had been for him, this map was for her? Danny had broken up the rooms—thus far—focused on one individual?
“The orange,” she said, turning to him and his mother, her eyes alight. “This is all in orange.” She swept her hand over the wall.
“Why? Why is it in orange?”
“Because it was the color of the day.” She gave her head a small shake. “The NYPD uses a color-of-the-day system to identify undercover cops working in high-risk areas. It’s meant to prevent friendly fire. I was wearing orange for my first big arrest.”
“In a nutshell,” he said, trying to hurry her along without compromising details they might need.
She spoke more quickly. “I was undercover. I watched a big drug deal go down. There was a kid in the back seat, or I might not even have noticed. But I saw that kid, and I kept my eyes on the car. In all honesty, I got lucky, Gavin. Anyway, the arrest led back to a big kingpin. I got an award. It was all over the local news. It’s one of the reasons I was fast-tracked to detective.”
She hadn’t gotten lucky. It was always about kids for her. She couldn’t tolerate seeing them victimized or uncared for. And he’d tell her later how much he fucking loved the hell out of her. “Okay, so it was a big arrest . . . here?” he asked, pointing to the intersecting lines.
She nodded, her eyes glued to the spot. “Yes. Yes, right there.”
“Five digits. Do you remember the zip code of the neighborhood?”
She put her hand to her forehead, looking away. “God, there might be a dozen. It’s a big area, and I don’t know the one in that specific spot. It’d start with one zero zero.”
A zap of frustration sizzled through him. Damn. How many potential combinations was that? If he were better at math, maybe he’d know. As it was, they were just going to have to start trying one by one. “Okay, let’s get started then,” he said, turning for the door.
“Wait,” she said, putting her hand on his arm. “The penny.”
He reached into his pocket, removed it, and held it in his palm.
She took it from his hand and held it in her thumb and index finger, studying it momentarily before obviously seeing, as he had, that it was just an ordinary penny. She handed it back. “Copper,” she said.