Pia had spent the hours before dawn slumped against the trunk of a tree, dozing fitfully. She arose at first light and walked east toward the sun until she found herself on an unfamiliar street winding downhill. It was then that she saw two policemen in the middle distance. They were implacably and threateningly walking toward her, staring at her unblinkingly, silent like automatons. Pia froze, as if by standing as still as possible they might not see her. When they were within ten feet of her, they parted, one walking to her left, one to her right. Perhaps they hadn’t seen her! Perhaps they weren’t looking for her at all! But when the men came alongside her, they suddenly lunged at her, roughly grabbing an arm each. Once again she was a prisoner of the state, totally vulnerable.

Now the same feelings flooded Pia’s brain. The security guards were coming at her with the same silent intensity, drilling her with their beady eyes. Pia stood stock-still and closed her eyes. Just like the Eden Falls policemen, the men parted right in front of her and went on either side . . . and moved on. The man to her left brushed past her upper body, then turned and said something—was he apologizing or saying “Get out of the way,” or making a lewd remark? Pia didn’t know. She breathed out with relief, unaware that she’d been holding her breath.

Pia was embarrassed by the depth of her paranoia. She shivered and a chill ran down her spine. The unnerving episode had taken only seconds. She wiped perspiration from her forehead and then hurried on toward Broadway. By the time she passed the hospital entrance, her breathing and pulse were almost back to normal. On Broadway she relaxed further as there were significantly more people. She felt safer there—she was safer there. In the near distance loomed the subway entrance swallowing pedestrians like an insatiable monster. A gust of wind blew the umbrella she was holding almost out of her hand, and she fought with it for a moment to get it under control. Once she did, she closed it and hurried forward to the stairs.

Chapter 47.

47.

168TH STREET AND BROADWAY
NEW YORK CITY
MARCH 25, 2011, 3:56 P.M.

Holy shit, there she is!” Genti shouted, pointing, as Prek made the right-hand turn from Broadway onto 168th Street running between the Columbia University Medical Center on the left and the Armory on the right. Genti’s glance had alighted on the woman carrying a shopping bag when the wind blew her umbrella, threatening to lift her into the air. He saw her face clearly, and it was the Grazdani girl, no doubt about it. She was walking quickly toward the subway entrance. “Stop!” Genti shouted as Prek slowed.

“Who’s with her?”

“No one, I didn’t see no one,” shouted Genti. “Let me out. Wait for me here.”