Harris had just handed them a revised official NYPD statement to the media when someone knocked on the door. “What is it now?” he barked.

Winona Lopez, a female detective in her forties, poked her head inside the office. “Sorry to interrupt sir, but I have a call from a Sheriff Barnes in Far Rockaway. He says it’s urgent. Line two.”

Frankel got up and started for the phone. “Thanks, Detective.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” said Lopez. “He asked specifically for Commander Grant.”

Grant’s surprise matched the look on the faces of the other two men in the room. He picked up the receiver and punched the appropriate button. “This is Grant.”

He heard Barnes’s gruff voice on the other end.

“Looks like we located the car your guy used to transport Leeds from Connolly’s to the old hospital yesterday.”

“Where?” asked Grant.

Barnes told him it was a blue Hyundai Sonata found that morning, dumped in a back alley. “It was stolen from a local woman yesterday.”

“What makes you so sure it was used to grab Leeds?”

“There are traces of blood on the passenger’s side,” said the sheriff. “And it looks like he left a message as well.”

Can this possibly get any worse?

“What kind of message?”

“I’m not exactly sure,” said Barnes. “But I’m fairly sure it’s meant for you, Commander.”

Chapter 12

12

Barnes was patiently waiting when they pulled up to the mouth of the alley. It had been cordoned off with bright yellow police tape and, being the dead of winter in a beach town, only a few curious locals stood on the sidewalk across the street. Not that there was much to see, just a midnight-blue Hyundai Sonata tucked up against the wall of an ice cream shop that closed down late each autumn.

The sheriff introduced Grant and Frankel to the Sonata’s owner, Josephine Tuttle, a woman in her late seventies. Poor Josephine couldn’t understand why she couldn’t just take her car home—wasn’t it bad enough that “some hooligan had swiped it” and left her stranded?

“I told you, Mrs. Tuttle, we will return it once we’ve concluded our investigation,” Barnes assured her. “We’ll even give it a wash and fill up the tank.”

“That’s the least you can do,” muttered Josephine.

Barnes said it’d be helpful if she answered Frankel and Grant’s questions.

“I don’t see what I can tell them that you didn’t write down in that little black notebook.”

“They might have different questions,” pointed out an exasperated Barnes. “Commander Grant has come all the way from England. The least we can do is show him a little bit of American hospitality and help him out.”