I kept a close watch on the graveyard but saw no one. Less than two minutes later, a call came back from one of the officers at our apartment. “The place is clear. You want us to stay here?”

“Just wait outside the door. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“The girl was not happy.”

“I expect not.”

Rather than call Tessa, I decided I would clear things up with her when I got back home.

As I was keeping watch on the graveyard, I caught sight of a person approaching from the other side of the cemetery. Male. About my size.

When I angled my light toward him, he bolted before I could see his face.

I took off after him, calling for him to stop.

He made it to the street before I did and was already on his way down the block toward the Wall Street Station subway stop for the 4 and 5 lines.

He descended into it.

I followed.

He launched himself over the turnstile ahead of me, and by the time I was past it as well, he’d jumped down from the platform toward the track and, avoiding the third rail, started sprinting into the darkness.

I made the leap as well.

A greasy smell tinged the air. With my flashlight, I caught sight of him, maybe twenty-five or thirty meters ahead of me, running with a harsh limp on his left leg. Calling out, I identified myself as a federal agent and shouted for him to stop.

It reminded me of my chase yesterday morning through the graveyard trying to catch that woman, although this guy wasn’t nearly as fast as she was and I was gaining on him rapidly. But a light beyond him and a rattling on the tracks told me that a train was coming.

I studied the tunnel. It didn’t look like there was enough room on either side to flatten myself against the wall and avoid getting hit. Or, if there was, it was going to be close.

Close worked.

Glancing behind me, I doubted I’d be able to make it back to the platform either. I debated for a second which direction to go—back or forward.

But only for a second, then I decided.

Forward.

The man I was chasing disappeared to the left, and I realized there must be a connecting tunnel or walkway. With the train closing in on me, I picked up my speed, darting toward it.

As the train rocketed closer, time seemed to slow, and even the roaring clatter of its approach was slower and more drawn out than it should have been.

The pathway the man had found was close.

Another few strides and I leapt to the side. Only a moment later, the train careened past, the rush of air whooshing over me.