Part 24 (1/2)

Cars and trucks whooshed past her, and the police siren sounded closer. She blinked sweat from her eyes and spotted the NYPD cruiser, driving toward her.

She stuck out her hand to flag it down.

Chapter Thirty-seven.

Jill sat in a hard chair beside Officer Mulvane's desk, and he was just finished typing his report on an old computer, with a grimy keyboard. The Greenwich Village precinct house had the same desks, mismatched file cabinets, and cluttered bulletin boards as the police station in Philadelphia, except for the moving tribute in its entrance hall, where six gleaming bronze plaques on a tan marble wall memorialized its six officers who gave their lives on September 11, 2001. Jill had paused at the memorial, saying a silent prayer.

”Okay, that's about it.” Officer Mulvane hit a key and the form printed at a cheap desk printer with a Yankees sticker. He was a beefy cop in his thirties, with bright blue eyes, a ready smile, and thinning blond hair. He extracted the form, picked up a pen, and handed both to Jill. ”Wanna give me your John Hanc.o.c.k?”

”Sure.” Jill skimmed the typed portion, which was her account of what had happened, then signed it at the bottom. Her flattened purse sat on her lap, and her BlackBerry was road kill, but she felt more like herself, having washed up in the ladies room. ”So what do you think, Officer? Can you help me find Abby?”

”Here's how it goes.” Office Mulvane eyed Jill, pursing his lips. ”I'd like to help you find your kid, I mean, your ex's kid, but we don't have jurisdiction. If your ex was murdered in Philly, it's a Philly case. If the kid went missing in Philly, it's a Philly case. Here, take this back.” Officer Mulvane handed over the photo of William and the mystery man in the blue s.h.i.+rt. ”Neither of these guys are known to us, much less a Known Wanted. I can't run a check on them using the images alone.”

”Thanks.” Jill stuffed the picture into her broken purse. ”But here's what I don't understand about jurisdiction. My ex is renting an apartment a few blocks from here, under a fake name, with fake ident.i.ty. Doesn't that give you jurisdiction?”

”No. Your ex-husband could be guilty of fraud in connection with the apartment, but not all fraud is criminal.” Officer Mulvane nodded h.e.l.lo at another cop pa.s.sing his desk, a radio attached to the cop's thick belt and flopping against his side. ”If your ex-husband entered into a contract with the co-op members.h.i.+p under a false name, it's not enough to involve NYPD.”

”But what if he's impersonating someone? Isn't that criminal?”

”Criminal impersonation is somebody pretending to be somebody famous, to get favors or money. Like we got a guy, he's in here all the time, pretends he's Robert De Niro to get a free meal.” Officer Mulvane picked up a Styrofoam cup of coffee with two thick fingers, as if he'd crush it otherwise. ”Your ex-husband isn't doing that.”

”So you need jurisdiction-”

”No,” Officer Mulvane interrupted, setting down his cup. ”I don't need jurisdiction. I can't act unless I have jurisdiction. I'm not looking for things to do, I got plenty.”

”Okay, what about the fact that I think I'm being followed by a black SUV, on the West Side Highway?”

”You don't have any real evidence that you are, and you don't know it's the same car.”

”The license plate has the T, and he drove away when he saw me coming.”

”Dr. Farrow.” Officer Mulvane smiled, sympathetically. ”Don't take this the wrong way, but I saw you, and you looked drunk and crazy. No wonder the guy hightailed it. And lots of plates start with T.”

Jill tried another tack. ”What if I were a friend of Neil Straub's, and I come to you and tell you that he's missing. I tell you he lives a few blocks away and I'm worried about him. What if he's dead in his apartment, right now? That would be criminal, and you'd have jurisdiction, right?”

”Right, but that's not what you said.”

”It could be.” Jill saw her opening, but Officer Mulvane frowned, s.h.i.+fting heavily away from her, in his chair.

”It isn't. I stopped for you because I thought you were a knucklehead about to get run over.”

”Now you know I'm a knucklehead trying to find my daughter.” Jill managed a smile. ”You want me to go out, come back in again, and tell you the new story?”

”It's not a game, Doc.”

”I know, and I'm not playing. I really need help. No one's looking out for Abby but me. You understand, you have a child.” Jill gestured at the photo on his desk, of an adorable little boy in a blue baseball uniform, resting a bat on his shoulder. ”What if your son were out there on his own, after you were gone?”

”Oh, don't do that to me.” Officer Mulvane looked pained, and Jill thought of the 9/11 memorial in the entrance hall. She realized that cops went to work every day, knowing that they might not come home. She flushed, feeling terrible.

”I'm so sorry, Officer. That was thoughtless of me.”

”Don't worry about it.” Officer Mulvane sighed. ”Okay, you win. There's one thing I can do for you, in these circ.u.mstances.”

”Thank you so much,” Jill said, grateful.

Chapter Thirty-eight.

”They've been up there forever, haven't they, Mike?” Jill paced the lobby in William's building, waiting for Officer Mulvane and his partner, who were upstairs with the super, a bald and surly little man named Ivan Ronavic.

”No. You need to relax.” Mike peered at her over his gla.s.ses. He was sitting at the desk, turning a page of the newspaper. ”It's only been twenty minutes. They'll be down soon.”

”I wish I could've gone with them.”

”You heard them. No way. The cops aren't even allowed in the apartment, they gotta wait in the hall while my boss checks it out.”

”Is Ivan your boss?”

”Yes.” Mike chuckled. ”You asked him so many questions, I thought he was gonna hit you.”

Jill snorted. ”I've met surgeons with less ego.”

Mike laughed. ”He didn't like you much, either.”

”Ask me if I care. I should fix him up with my boss, Sheryl.”

Mike c.o.c.ked his head. ”You're a doctor. You shouldn't have a boss.”

”That's what I think.” Jill let it go. ”You've seen the apartment, right?”

”Yes.”

”What does it look like?”

”Not for me to say. You've gotten me in enough hot water for one day.”

”Sorry.” Jill felt a guilty twinge. ”I can write Ivan a letter, apologizing.”

”Nah, don't worry about it. It's good to shake things up. Get's so quiet around here.”

”I wonder what's going on up there.” Jill sank onto a cus.h.i.+oned bench, suppressing her anxiety. She felt so out of touch without her BlackBerry and wondered if Abby had called her or Victoria. Or if Sam was home from the lab, Megan had had another panic attack, or Rahul's bloodwork had come back. Jill stood up and started pacing again.