Lucy then looked through her few belongings, digging out her tattered journal from her time in prisons, or what she called institutes of higher criminal development. Remembering all she’d learned, all she’d done, others she’d encountered behind bars in Canada, she recalled one girl especially.

Gina.

Gina was an American who’d been visiting her sister in Calgary when she got involved in a cross-country crime spree with older men that ended in Brandon, Manitoba. Gina had too much attitude. Inside, she’d broken a rule and offended a gang leader. One day two gang members had Gina cornered in the laundry room. Lucy, who by this time was a respected force to be reckoned with, intervened, saving Gina from a severe beating, or worse.

Gina never forgot.

For Lucy, this was money in the bank because Gina was from New Jersey and was connected to people who knew people. Gina had promised Lucy her eternal gratitude and help whenever needed.

Gina showed Lucy ways to reach her once they were back in the real world, but because Gina had enemies she needed to be careful about revealing where she was. Gina wrote instructions in code—like the lines of a poem.

Now, after deciphering it, Lucy went to the shelter’s free computers and searched online.

It didn’t take long before Lucy made a few calls to Newark, then Brooklyn and Queens, saying exactly what Gina had told her to say if she was ever looking for her.

Within a few hours, one of Lucy’s disposable burner cell phones rang with the call she’d been waiting for.

“It’s been a long time, Gina.”

“A long time. So you’re calling yourself Lucy now?”

“Yeah. So Gina, I need that favor now.”

“What can I do for you, Lucy?”

“I need your help finding people who don’t want to be found. Can you help me with that?”

“No, I can’t.”

A few tense seconds passed between them.

“But I know people who can.”

Forty-Nine

New York City, New York
Three weeks ago

French cabaret music blended with children’s laughter from the rotating carousel in Bryant Park, where Lucy Lavenza waited to meet the man who would help her change her life.

It had been a few days since she’d called in her favor from Gina, providing her with the little information she had. In that time Gina called her with updates, telling her: “Be patient, I’m working on it.”

Then yesterday, Gina instructed her to go to Bryant Park in Midtown Manhattan, at 2:00 p.m., sit alone directly across the lawn from the carousel with today’s New York Times laid out on the table.

“A friend, his name is Devin, will meet you. He’ll have what you need.”

It was now 2:21.

Competing breezes carried the floral scent of flowers, food carts and tour buses.