The burgers, fries, and shakes were gone in a flash. Frankel had checked his watch. “I think we have two hours and fifty minutes left till the sun comes up.”

“I’m just happy to sit here for a while.”

So, they’d leaned back and listened to The River— his all-time favorite album.

He didn’t realize he’d closed his eyes and fallen asleep until he heard Rachel murmur beside him.

“Oh my God.”

Frankel glanced over to see her face dappled with the first strains of morning light coming from the east. She was also wiping tears from her eyes.

“It might be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” she whispered.

It was the sun rising over the East River and illuminating New York City.

And directly below them—a glistening Statue of Liberty.

It looked close enough to touch.

“You should have seen it when the towers were there.”

“I really wish I had.”

“It’s not the same thing but . . .”

He had dug around for his phone and scanned through his photo file.

“I took this back when I was in college.” He showed her a picture of the same view—only this one had the Twin Towers rising majestically at the tip of Manhattan.

“Wow. It’s breathtaking.”

Frankel nodded. “I think about it all the time.”

Rachel handed him back the phone. And gave him a mischievous grin.

“What?”

“You took that from a car? Just like this?”

“Pretty much.”

“With a girl like me?”

“Definitely not one like you.”

Rachel had laughed. “I bet you bring all the girls up here.”

“Sheila Rice was the only other one.”

“Not Julia?”

Frankel had shaken his head.

“Why not?” Rachel had asked. She inched a teensy bit closer to him.

“She wouldn’t have appreciated it.”

“Her loss.”

“Yeah. Well.” Frankel found himself moving closer to her as well.

“So, what did this Sheila Rice think of it all?”

“Not that much. She was sort of interested in other stuff.”

Rachel raised her eyebrow. “What kind of stuff?”

She had moved even closer.

“You know,” Frankel murmured. “Stuff . . .”

“Mmmm.”

Then something in the car had buzzed.

An alert on Rachel’s phone from Sergeant Hawley.

It was the information about Prior Silver having taken a flight to New York City the day before Father Adam Peters was murdered in Saint Patrick’s Cathedral.

All hell had broken loose after that.

The frantic search for Silver, Hawley dropping off the radar, and the three of them winging across the Atlantic only to discover the massacre waiting for them in the Esher mansion.

During that time, Frankel and Rachel barely had a moment to themselves.

She’d spent the whole trip from New Jersey texting back and forth with the now-dead Sergeant Hawley.

It was only when they had both ended up near the bathroom on the 777 together that they managed to have a regretful quick chat about what might have been.