“I think we’ll be able to twist his arm,” Shawn said, walking Jack to the office door. “See you tomorrow for what should turn out to be a remarkable unveiling.”

“Looking forward to it,” Jack said. Remembering a question he’d been meaning to ask, he added, “If there are bones in the ossuary, would you want the OCME anthropologist to look at them? He’s an expert on old bones, and can probably tell you some interesting things about them.”

“Why not, provided there’s no mention of whose bones they are. ‘The more information we can get, the better’ has always been my motto.”

Chapter 19

19

5:05 P.M., FRIDAY, DECEMBER 5, 2008
NEW YORK CITY

Jack took the elevator down to the museum’s first floor in anticipatory excitement. Although the lobby was still as crowded as it had been earlier, Jack hardly noticed the people. Instead, he thought about how good it had been to see two of his best friends from a time in his life he’d so enjoyed, especially catching up with them as this mesmerizing narrative unfolded. Jack could not remember another occasion when he’d been more eager for time to pass and questions to be answered. The only dubious element was the history of his two friends’ propensity to clash. Jack had the disturbing feeling that he’d again be called to referee a serious conflict between the two men, as he’d done in college, each steadfastly convinced of the validity of his position. Little did Jack know how prophetic and deadly his intuition would prove to be.

Jack didn’t waste time riding home, thanks to the cold air. Pushing himself to generate as much body heat as possible, he rode uptown at breakneck speed. Within fifteen minutes he’d traversed the park and reached 106th Street, heading for his house, a fourth-floor walk-up that he and Laurie had recently renovated. Directly across the street was the playground Jack had refurbished at his own expense. As he glided to a stop, he eyed the basketball court he’d had illuminated. It was covered with shiny black pools of rainwater, meaning there would be no games that night.

Hoisting his bike onto his shoulder, he climbed the eight front steps of the stoop and stepped inside. He glanced at the console table and the mirror directly above it. There was no note waiting for him to let him know if Laurie and the baby were asleep.

Jack couldn’t decide if he preferred a note or not. When there was a note, he’d instantly feel lonely. When there wasn’t, he’d have to gird himself from getting too emotional hearing about the invariable bad day.

“We’re up here,” Laurie shouted from the kitchen.