Stealing Time (14 page)

"She has a cold." The woman looked at the diamond engagement ring on Nanci's finger, at her gold watch.

"She went to the hospital for a cold? You mean she went to the clinic." Nanci calmed herself. The clinic. She could find her there. "What time did she go?"

"Yesterday."

Nanci thought she must have misunderstood. The woman's speech was slurred, and she looked frightened as she repeated herself.

"You mean today. She went today, this morning."

"Okay, today. She maybe very sick," the woman offered shyly.

"Oh, my God. What hospital, Beekman?" Now Nanci was upset because she was being made to stand out in the hall. The woman wouldn't let her come into the apartment and wouldn't tell her what hospital Lin had gone to. She'd dealt with people like this many times before and never gotten angry. Anger was not helpful when people were ignorant and frightened. Nanci usually had a lot of patience, but not now. Her voice shook with fury. "Why didn't you call me? I'm her only relative. You should know better," she scolded. The woman kept looking stupidly at Nanci's ring finger. Nanci wondered if there was something wrong with her. "Who took her to the hospital? You?"

The silence was thick; then the Lao woman shook her head.

"Well, who then? Her boyfriend?"

"No have boyfriend."

"Yes, she did." But Nanci didn't want to argue the point. The talking going on inside the apartment got louder. Suddenly the Lao woman turned around to join in the conversation behind her. Something about her placating tone of voice made Nanci think she had a boyfriend, too.

"A lady came and took her to the hospital," she said after some discussion.

"What lady?" Nanci demanded. She didn't believe a word of it.

"I don't know her name. Nice lady."

"Why?" Nanci was losing it.

The woman turned around again, conferred with someone behind her.

"Who was the lady? A young lady, an old lady, a social worker, a friend, who?"

"Yes, friend."

"What did she say?"

"Lin was sick at work again. Went home early yesterday. Nice lady. She want to take Lin to hospital."

"So she took Lin to the hospital?" The light went on. This must be Annie Lee the woman was talking about.

"Yes. Second time." Lao seemed to be nervous about this.

"She went to the hospital before?" Nanci was angry at herself for not knowing this. But there were a lot of things she didn't know. Of course, Lin had gone to the hospital. Nanci felt worse and worse. "She has more than a cold, doesn't she?"

"Just bad cold," the woman insisted.

"Okay, that's fine. You're not a help."

"Yes, I help. I took good care of her, save her life many times," the woman said indignantly.

"Then why didn't
you
take her to the hospital?" Nanci demanded.

"She had her friend. Her friend take."

"Okay, okay, and you don't even know if Beekman is where she went." Nanci was very angry. "And this is the second time. That's not taking good care."

"How can I find Lin? I don't speak English." Now the woman was ashamed. She hung her head. "Maybe you find," she said, hopefully.

"I'll find her," Nanci said angrily. "And I can tell you, when I do find her, I'll make sure she never comes back here again."

Deeply disturbed, Nanci went to look for Lin at Beekman Downtown Hospital. There was no record of her at the clinic, or the emergency room; Lin had not been admitted there today or yesterday or any other day. Now Nanci was really worried. With a sinking heart, Nanci Hua realized she was an evil person. She and Milton hadn't wanted to tell the police about her cousin for their own reasons. They should have called yesterday afternoon as soon as they got home, and they hadn't. Now she knew they had no choice; the Lao woman and Annie Lee at the factory were both lying to her. She had to involve the police. Finally Nanci went into the 5th Precinct and asked for Detective April Woo. The desk lieutenant sent her upstairs, where an ugly man wrote down April's number and even dialed it for her. The person on the line in whatever precinct April now worked said Sergeant Woo was out.

"Anything I can help you with?" the ugly man asked, staring at her hard as if he were trying to place her.

Nanci had met him before, but he didn't seem to remember. All Chinese must look alike to him.

"No thanks," she said. "I'll try her again later."

Nanci left the station and went down into the subway, boarded a train for Penn Station. On the Long Island list of stations Garden City was listed, so the taxi driver had lied to her about that. Today everybody was lying.

When she got off the train in Garden City, she was surprisingly relieved to be back there. And she was even happier to get out of the taxi at home. The house she lived in was like houses in the movies with lawns and flowers and happy families inside. Now she understood why this was the American Dream, why it was necessary for her to put her fears away and learn to drive a car, be in control. It was almost as if she had been cleansed of her fond feelings about her former life in Chinatown, where old ways of thinking caused so much trouble and kept so many secrets that it was sometimes impossible to untangle all the lies.

Everything was peaceful at home, but Nanci was not soothed by her nice neighbor, a plump woman who didn't have much to do since her children were all grown. Enthusiastically, the woman offered friendship and much advice about family life in the area. She was clearly in no hurry to return to her own kitchen. "Call me anytime," she said at last, when Nanci escorted her to the front door, thanking her profusely for her kindness.

When the woman was gone, Nanci sat down and made a list of all the hospitals in Manhattan. She called every single one. No Lin Tsing had come to any of them. After that, with trembling fingers, she punched out the number of the medical examiner's office, the place to call if a person died in suspicious circumstances and no one knew his name. There was no young Asian woman in the morgue, either. After that, there was nothing else Nanci could do for Lin but wait for April Woo to get back to her.

CHAPTER 15

W
hat's going on, boss? You look upset," Woody said on the return trip to the squad room after the visit with Heather Rose.

April shook her head. Oh, man, she hated to see this. A Chinese woman, college educated, married to a creep. Okay, it happened. But there was more. Heather Rose might be one of those people who could do weird things. What she'd done just now was make her voice fly around the room like a ventriloquist. Called herself an insect, cried like a baby. "Nutty as a fruitcake" was the only explanation April let enter her mind. She got a tingling in the middle of her palm. Her skin crawled. And all this gave her a bad feeling. Iriarte was always threatening to fire her. Could be that, but it could be the woman was crazy. She had those scars on her arm. Perfect circles. In the twenty minutes April had spent trying to get Heather Rose to stop making crying noises from outside her body, a voice called April insect woman and predicted her death. It was creepy because the new sound had a toneless quality that almost made April think it came from the other side.
I don't believe in portents, signs, and predictions, and I'm not going to die,
April told herself. She also told herself she was a cop and hadn't heard this. No one heard this. But she was shaken all the same. Crazy people could do that to you. Now April had to reconsider this whole issue of the woman killing the baby, after all; and maybe the husband was shielding
her.
She shivered. One thing was clear: this woman was no longer unconscious, if she ever had been.

"You okay, boss?" Woody asked a second time.

April didn't hear him. At the precinct she left Woody to park the car and climbed the stairs to the second floor, fervently hoping to beat the odds and find her office free. Instead, there was a federal agent comfortably ensconced at her desk. She saw him through the glass in the door and didn't have to ask who he was. She knew he was FBI by the gray suit, white shirt, gray-and-white-striped tie. Mouse-brown hair a quarter of an inch long, features undefined enough to act like putty whenever necessary. No glasses, about thirty-five, medium height, slender build. This one was sharp, though. He looked down at the "Sgt. Woo" nameplate on the desk and up at her. Then he stood up behind the desk and waved her into her own office with three fingers. Showing her who was boss.

"Sergeant Woo, I presume?"

"Yes, sir. Special Agent—?" April got it all, the seeming politeness of his standing to invite her in, and layered under that, a putdown in the clear indication of his intention not to surrender the territory. God, she hated this.

"Gabriel Samson. Good to meet you, Woo." He held out his hand, challenging her to advance to the front of her desk. She advanced for the shake. She didn't have much choice in the matter. Then when she reached out for the bony hand he offered, she got her knuckles crushed.

"You must catch a lot of flak for the name," she remarked, flexing her fingers. "Gabriel
and
Samson. Your mother must have had high hopes for you."

"I disappointed her in the music department," he said modestly.

"Only that? Then you're doing well. What can we do for you, Gabe?" April wasn't feeling as perky as she might, what with the crushed fingers, disembodied death threat and all.

His lips tightened. Oh, he didn't like a cop using his first name. He was a real FBI type. She felt a little better.

"There was no space outside, so the lieutenant offered me your office. I hope it won't inconvenience you too much." His smile lacked sincerity.

"Not at all. What's the deal?"

"The deal is we're cooperating. You tell us what you've got, we tell you what we've got, and together we clear the case."

"Great. What have you got?"

He laughed and wagged a finger at her. "April, your boss said to be careful of you, you're a pistol."

"I'm flattered." April laughed, too. They were having quite a party, but he hadn't answered the question, and she wasn't going to play nice and brief him on the case after Iriarte gave him her office without mentioning it to her and there were a dozen other detectives right outside the door who could brief him just as well as she could. And besides, right now she needed to use the phone. "Do you mind if I use the phone?" she asked sweetly.

"No, go ahead." He nodded toward the phone.

"I mean, privately."

"Oh, sure. How long will you be?" He was a pistol, too.

"Two minutes."

He checked his watch. "No problem."

April was impressed by his efficiency. The man was actually going to time her. She wasted no time dialing Dr. Jason Frank's number. If she was going to consult with anybody outside the precinct, it was going to be Jason, and only Jason. He was a psychiatrist she'd met a while ago, when his actress wife was being stalked. Ever since April had called him whenever she had a head case. He was always busy with patients and rarely answered the phone, so she was astounded when he picked up now.

"Dr. Frank."

"Jason, it's April."

"Hey, April, my favorite police officer. What's up? I only have thirty seconds."

"Head case. I need a consultation."

"Could you elaborate a little?"

April peered out into the squad room where Gabe stood at the door tapping his finger at his watch. A real nice guy. She was tempted to flip him the bird. "In twenty seconds?" she asked Jason.

"Well, for you I have two minutes. What's up?"

She turned toward the wall in case Gabe could lip-read. Never underestimate a white shirt. "Got a creepy case, Jason. Missing baby. Possibly a battered wife. But the baby isn't hers. A lot of people are banking on the kidnap angle, but I'm not completely convinced this woman didn't maybe kill the baby, after all. I could be wrong, but I think this is a head case. Would you see her?"

"What's a head case, April?"

"You know what I mean. Wacko, crazy. By you, certifiable illness."

"Well, you know my credo on the subject: if they seem crazy, they probably are. Sure, I'll see her. You want to bring her to my office?"

"Sorry, can't do it."

"Oh, I don't know. I can't come into the station. I'm really socked in here." "We'll come and get you. How's Emma?" April played the trump. She and Mike had saved Emma's life, and they both had scars to show for it. Jason owed her, and she would never let him forget it.

"All right, I had time set aside for jogging in an hour. Pick me up then
_;
" he said wearily.

"Thanks, I'll pay you back," she promised cheerfully.