Central Park
November 15, 3.35 p.m.
The solitary walkers in Central Park were all wrapped up warm. The wide skies overhead were bright blue into the distance and the air was cold and dry. At the northeastern corner of the park, the suspended homicide detective Thomas Elias Harper crouched on his haunches on the edge of the sandbank overlooking the glittering water of Harlem Meer. He was dressed down in a pair of old combats, a well-worn overcoat and an orange cap. He was alone, with a pair of binoculars tight to his eyes, watching the movement in the trees on the far shore, keeping deadly still.
Then he spotted it again and his heart rose a beat. He focused slowly with his forefinger and caught the image crisp in his sights. There it was, almost flat against the oak bark, a white-breasted nuthatch edging down the tree trunk, its sleek head and white throat darting out for insects. Harper followed the bird across the leafy ground as it hopped on to a forsythia twig and pecked beneath the fallen maple leaves for grubs. He smiled with satisfaction.
The detective moved down through the park, a small knapsack on his back. He reached the brow of a hill in the North Woods and moved across the ravine. He climbed up a low bank to get a good position and stood looking into the dense vegetation, the stream babbling through the trees, the leaves crisp and whispering in the light wind. Reports had mentioned a glossy ibis in the area; he’d been back to the same site for three days, but hadn’t had any luck.
Out of the trees behind him, Harper caught a scuffling sound. He listened intently as the sound grew. It sure as hell wasn’t a glossy ibis. It wasn’t some walker strolling through, either: the movements were quick and determined. Every now and then, the noise stopped. A moment later, Harper could make out the heavy breathing of a man out of condition a few yards behind him. It could be only one thing — a homicide cop.
‘Harper!’ called a deep voice.
Captain Frank Lafayette had waited an hour outside Harper’s apartment in East Harlem before he got a lead from the guys in the fish market and went hunting in the park. The captain, his face a delicate lacework of tiny red veins, put his hands flat on his knees and looked at Harper’s back. ‘You couldn’t take up bowling or some fucking thing?’
There was no reply, not even a flicker. Tom Harper was standing still beneath a small group of bare trees. He was six two, athletic, his close-cropped hair brown, flecked with grey. He had been the NYPD cruiserweight boxing champion for three seasons and the muscle in his back and shoulders still showed.
‘Detective Harper, it’s Captain Lafayette. I need to speak to you. It’s urgent.’
‘Keep quiet, Captain.’
‘What?’
‘I said — keep your voice down.’
Tom had caught sight of a warbler edging forward from behind a rock, a flash of yellow and black, and then it appeared, its quick head turning from side to side.
‘Tom, I just need a few minutes of your time.’
‘Quiet!’
‘For fuck’s sake, Harper, stop shitting me here!’ shouted Lafayette. The voice rattled through the woods and the nervous little warbler darted a look towards them, lifted off and flew away downstream.
Harper let his binoculars drop to his side and turned to Lafayette. He glared across. ‘Leave me the hell alone.’ He strode off through the undergrowth, following the flight of the bird.
‘Harper, wait up. I just want a word. We need your help.’
‘Well, I’m suspended right now. You not noticed that, Captain?’
‘Detective, I know you better than that. I want to make you an offer.’
‘I don’t need anything from you.’
‘You heard about the case?’
‘I’ve seen the girl’s picture just like everyone else. You’ve got a serious killer on the loose and Williamson hasn’t got a clue. You’re getting pistol-whipped at One PP, so you came to see me.’
‘Give me one minute of your time, Harper. Come on.’
‘I can’t help you, Captain. It’s time for me to move on.’
Lafayette paused. He had to get the timing just right. He caught Harper’s eyes. ‘They found a second body this morning. Same killer, we think.’
‘I’m sorry to hear it,’ said Harper.
‘She was walking home last night and disappeared. Probably abducted.’
‘I don’t need to know the details, Captain. It’s not my case.’
‘Look, Harper, these girls were raped and strangled. Same ligature.’
Harper looked into the trees, the details playing on his mind. ‘As you know, I’m not available for duty.’
Lafayette moved in close. He took a photograph from his inside pocket and tossed it on to a white rock. ‘Take a look. The unknown subject is a mean bastard. After he killed Mary-Jane, he scattered flower petals all over her body like in some ritual.’
Harper looked down at the crime scene shot of a bloody corpse. ‘He cut her?’
‘Tortured her with shallow cuts, yeah. Likes to watch them bleed.’
‘The papers didn’t say.’
‘We keep the real grim stuff to ourselves, you know that.’
‘I’m sorry for these girls, Captain, but I can’t go back now. I broke Jarvis’s jaw. You know what that means as well as I do. There’s a big door and it’s shut in my face. My own stupid fault, I know that. I’m not looking for sympathy. I deserve whatever I get.’
‘You were provoked, Tom. Everyone knows how you feel about Lisa. Jarvis was a fool, but he’s just one stupid cop who tried to get himself a name by getting a rise out of the big guy.’
‘Well, you tell him it worked. I’m riled. Lisa wanted out, that’s one nightmare, but I don’t need some failed detective telling me she’s screwing around.’
Captain Lafayette looked at Harper. He was thinner than before, leaner, with a thin line of red around his eyes. Three months earlier, Harper’s wife, Lisa Vincenti, had decided that enough was enough. There’d been one lonely night too many and she’d moved out while Tom was working all hours closing the Romario case. Jarvis was a smart-ass lieutenant and a local precinct bully who thought it was worth making a joke out of, and he’d gone in hard. It was a mistake. Harper had been in no mood for jokes.
‘Will you listen to my offer?’ said Lafayette.
‘I need to start over,’ said Harper. ‘I need new ground under my feet. I need to get a job somewhere else. That’s my feeling.’
‘What as? A birdwatcher? You know no police department in the country will touch you. You’ve got a charge over your head. You assaulted a senior officer. Listen, Ged Rainer will have you out by the end of the week. What you going to do then?’
‘I’ll find work.’
‘But I can make the Charges and Specs go away, Tom.’
‘How?’
‘We’ve got a killer out there and the department needs you. Hell, I need you. They’ll wipe the slate if you come on board.’
Harper paused and stared at Lafayette. ‘I can’t go back. End of story. Sorry.’ He started to walk down the valley, fast.
Lafayette struggled behind him and pulled to a standstill. He couldn’t keep up any more. He stared at Harper’s back and shook his head. ‘What you going to do? Pity yourself the rest of your life? Everyone loses someone, Tom. Get off the fucking canvas.’
Fifty yards ahead, Tom Harper stopped in his tracks. The words got him cold. He counted to ten real slow, keeping his anger from getting out of control, and then he walked on without turning his head.
‘He’s taking trophies, Tom,’ shouted Lafayette. ‘He took the kid’s eyes out of her head. Try to imagine that while you’re out here watching the birds.’