BooksBarbecue
Back The Night Bird
Chapters (60)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Page
  3. Dedication
  4. CONTENTS
  5. Start Reading
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. 14
  20. 15
  21. 16
  22. 17
  23. 18
  24. 19
  25. 20
  26. 21
  27. 22
  28. 23
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. 26
  32. 27
  33. 28
  34. 29
  35. 30
  36. 31
  37. 32
  38. 33
  39. 34
  40. 35
  41. 36
  42. 37
  43. 38
  44. 39
  45. 40
  46. 41
  47. 42
  48. 43
  49. 44
  50. 45
  51. 46
  52. 47
  53. 48
  54. 49
  55. 50
  56. 51
  57. 52
  58. FROM THE AUTHOR
  59. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  60. ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Darren laughed. He strolled toward his car and waved her to the hidden space. Frankie kept an eye on him as she approached the doorway, and then she took a quick glance inside. Beyond the wall, the warehouse looked no different from the rest of the space. More containers. More Chinese characters stamped on the wood. There was no white room. No torture chamber.

“Satisfied?” Darren whispered.

He was right behind her, his hands on her waist. She slapped them off.

“This doesn’t change anything,” she told him. “If it’s not here, then you have a space somewhere else. I know you’re the Night Bird.”

“I have a special name, too? Nice touch. That’s so Edgar Allan Poe.”

“You won’t win,” Frankie said.

“I’ve already won. You’re here.”

He fixed her with another smile; then he tightened the knot on his Jerry Garcia tie and tugged his peach shirt cuffs an inch beyond the sleeves of his sport coat. He smoothed the lapels.

“It was great seeing you, Frankie,” he told her, “but unless you want to admit what you really want from me, you should go. I have work to do, and then I have a special evening planned.”

“Special?”

“Crazy special,” Darren said.

He pushed a button on the wall, and the garage door beside them cranked open on its tracks. Light from outside flooded the space. “No need to walk all the way back. Warehouses are dangerous places. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.”

Frankie started toward the sloped driveway that led to the street, but as she squeezed past Darren, she noticed the shiny glint of buttons on his sport coat. They were brass buttons, just like Frost had showed her. And one of them was missing.

32

32

Twenty-four hours.

Lucy had been gone for an entire day, and Frost was no closer to finding her. The frustration of the search left him angry, and he focused his anger on Francesca Stein. He was certain she knew more than she was telling him, but he couldn’t reach her to demand answers. He’d already called her home phone. Her cell phone. Her office. She didn’t call back.

Frost stood in Union Square, wrestling with himself over what to do next. He was about to cross a line. He knew plenty of cops who bent rules and broke rules, but he’d never been one of them. Jess Salceda called him a Boy Scout and told him real cops couldn’t be Boy Scouts if they wanted to solve a case. He’d never believed her.

Until now. He didn’t care about the consequences.