"Oh, h.e.l.l no," Jake said.

"C'mon," Wally said. "You'll look totally hot. ..."

"No f.u.c.king way-"

"Oh my G.o.d, Jake!" Ella objected. "Put it on, right now. I don't wanna see that varsity jacket at our fancy table."

Jake remained indignant but caved in to Ella's command. As Jake put on his jacket, Ella took a couple of the varsity pins off his letterman jacket and attached them on the lapel of his new blazer.

"That actually works," Wally said.

Jake looked at himself in the mirror. "It does, doesn't it?"

The crew hoofed it to the subway stop and caught the B train south, toward SoHo. Wally had called around the good restaurants in that part of town the night before, and she'd been lucky: Balthazar had a cancellation on a table for four at three o'clock.

"Do we need, like, special manners for this place?" Ella asked as they walked.

"Nope," Wally said. "You know how to eat, right?"

"I do."

"Besides," Wally said, "you and I are ravishing, and our men are breathtakingly handsome. Our biggest problem will be the envy we inspire in those less fortunate than ourselves."

They found Balthazar on Spring Street and-just as Wally predicted-there were no ha.s.sles. The maitre d' did give them a halfway curious look, but that probably had more to do with their age than anything. Style-wise, the fashion-forward crew fit in nicely with the upscale, quasi-bohemian crowd in the busy restaurant. The only hiccup came with Ella's first reading of the menu.

"Uh, where's the turkey and stuffing?"

"This is a bistro," Wally said. "French style. But look toward the bottom of the second page: turkey leg confit."

"What's that?" Tevin asked.

"It'll be yum, I promise."

And Wally was right. The turkey was "insanely tasty," according to Ella, delivered to their table with deference and efficiency by a flock of hovering waiters who never even let a water gla.s.s dip below half full.

"Best Thanksgiving turkey ever," Jake said as he wolfed down the huge leg on his plate, with in-between bites of fried herb potatoes and wild mushroom saute.

"Yeah, by far," agreed Tevin. "Like, another-planet far."

Most of the other guests in the cafe were youngish, upwardly mobile types, with only a couple of real families dining together. The parents of those families barely noticed Wally and her crew at all, but their children were fascinated. Obviously jealous, they stole sideways glances at the four teenagers and fantasized about a world devoid of embarra.s.sing parents, itchy sweaters, and flatulent great-aunts with untrimmed whiskers. Ella was the first of the crew who noticed this attention, so of course she gave the kids furtive waves and sympathetic smiles.

Wally felt good for the first time in days. Seeing the delighted faces of her friends as they ate and laughed, their faces glowing in the candlelight as they toasted each other with winegla.s.ses full of sparkling water, Wally knew she had done the right thing in bringing them here. And something else, the warm feeling at their table-and in the room-gave her kind of a flashback to an earlier time. A bittersweet memory.

Tevin noticed that something was on Wally's mind.

"What?"

"I don't know," she said. "I was just reminded. One of the last dinners I had with my folks, before they split, was Thanksgiving out. Sort of like this."

"Wally-" Ella wanted to console her.

"No, it was good. Really. Maybe the last nice time we had together." She looked at the others with a warm smile. "We're having a nice time too, and that's how I'm reminded. Thanksgiving dinner with two happy families, both of them mine."

They toasted each other again, just as their waiter arrived with a dessert cart full of the most indulgent pastries any of them had ever seen. Wally again observed the looks of wonder on their faces, but now focused especially on Tevin. He was as thrilled as the others with the sight of the treats, but Tevin observed the desserts as if through the window of an elegant shop that he was forbidden to enter, as if these special things were there for him to witness but not taste for himself. Even as he was deciding which pastry to order, Tevin looked as though he was doing something that he would later be punished for.

Wally's heart broke a little at the sight of this.

"You know what?" Wally said. "Let's hold off on dessert. We can do better."

The others gave her skeptical looks.

"Better than this?" Ella said, crushed that she would not be tasting the towering, gleaming wedge of lemon meringue pie that she had already selected.

Wally just nodded, confidently, and looked to the waiter. "We'd like the check, please."

The crew followed Wally out of the bistro, obviously curious about what she was up to.

"What's on your mind, Wally?" Tevin said.

She took out her smart phone and did a local map search, coming up with a place called 60 Thompson, described as a "chic boutique hotel that brilliantly reflects the refined, artistic sensibility of SoHo." There were several dollar signs attached to the review, meaning it was expensive even by Manhattan standards. Wally enjoyed keeping her friends in suspense as she led them the few blocks to Thompson Street and in through the front door of the hotel.

The lobby was hushed and stylish in a restrained way, lit to a sort of muted glow that gave the place an intimate feel. Wally felt a rush of guilty excitement as she stepped up to the front desk and placed a credit card on the counter. It was a Platinum American Express card with her name on it, given to her by Claire "in case of an emergency." Wally had never used the card and was determined that she never would, but at that moment she felt driven by an irresistible compulsion.

A young woman with beautiful, dark skin-Indian, Wally thought-attractive in a well-tailored dark blue suit stood behind the counter. The name tag on her lapel read Chantra. She leaned over and examined the credit card without touching it, then stood back and took a long look at Wally and the crew, clearly trying to reconcile what she perceived as a mixed message.

"Yes, ma'am?" she said to Wally.

Wally pulled out her good fake ID and set it next to the AmEx card.

"We'd like a suite," Wally said casually, "if one is available."

Chantra arched one eyebrow. She took another look at the crew and another look at Wally's cards. Finally she picked up the Platinum card and moved toward a back office.

"Just one moment, please," she said with an enigmatic smile. She disappeared into the back office for a moment but returned promptly, still holding on to the AmEx card.

"What type of suite do you require, Ms. Stoneman?"

"Two bedrooms, please."

"Yes, very good. We have a two-bedroom suite on the 16th floor with an excellent perspective of the park," Chantra said. She placed a price sheet on the counter for perusal, but Wally did not look at it.

"I'm sure it will be fine," Wally said.

Through all this, the crew stood behind Wally, biting their tongues, determined not to break whatever insanely reckless and generous spell their leader was under.

"Excellent," Chantra said, sweeping the price sheet out of view and setting the paperwork into motion.

Soon the bellman was ushering the crew into the elevator-"No luggage, then?"-up to the 16th floor and into a suite so luxurious that it took their collective breaths away, even Wally's. The bellman opened the curtains to reveal a large picture window with an expansive view of downtown, to the south.

"Would you like turndown service, ma'am?" he asked as Wally slipped him two twenty-dollar bills for his trouble.

"Not necessary, thank you," she said, and the bellman was gone, leaving the stunned crew alone in their suite, the air redolent with the scent of the two dozen fresh white roses arranged in a crystal vase on the side table.

Wally reached for the hotel phone and dialed for room service.

"What can we offer you this evening, Ms. Stoneman?" asked the voice on the other end of the line, no introduction necessary.

"We'd like two of every dessert you have," Wally said, "and one bottle of champagne, your choice."

Alone in the bedroom with Tevin, Wally turned to face him and saw that his body was very tense, his fists clenched at his sides and his jaw fixed. At first Wally mistook his posture for anger, but then discovered from the look in his eyes that Tevin was consumed with antic.i.p.ation, his body vibrating with intense animal energy, raw and barely restrained.

"Tev," she said. "Your eyes ..."

"What?" he asked, breathless.

"I know them, but I don't."

He moved toward her and wrapped her in his arms. Wally tilted her chin toward his, and they kissed pa.s.sionately for the first time, locked together. Wally thought the closeness would calm him, but instead his excitement spread from every inch of his hot, sweaty skin to her own. And then she was trembling also and she lost her breath, feeling like his body was water flooding all around her and she was drowning.

"It's okay," she said, struggling to catch her breath. "Everything is okay." Wally wasn't thinking clearly, or even thinking at all, and didn't know if the words of rea.s.surance were meant for Tevin or herself. She understood in that moment how much of themselves they had held away from each other.

A blur of uncontrollable thoughts rushed through Wally's mind, memories of her first time with Nick-so different, intense but contained-and she realized that she had no idea what it would be like to experience another human heart this way, with no calculation.

They began undressing each other, fumbling, not willing to fully release their hold as they did it so they had to pull and slide the clothes off between their bodies and immediately reestablish contact before any air could rush in between them.

"Don't let me go," she said.

"I won't."

When their bare skin touched, they settled into a flow of actions and reactions that happened naturally, and Wally could feel herself casting away all control and getting caught up in the irresistible force of it. Before it could happen-with their clothes off now-Wally pushed him away, needing all of her strength to do it, and looked at him naked in front of her. She decided he was perfect, and that once she reached out for him again, she would not be able to let go, but Tevin suddenly looked troubled. Wally pulled him even closer, sensing his distress and afraid that the spell between them would be broken.

"What is it?" she asked him gently.

"I haven't"-he hesitated-"I mean, I don't know anything. I know I love you, but I don't know anything else."

"That's what I want," she said.

She reached out and pulled him toward her, both of them falling back together onto the bed.

Later, between the crisp white sheets, they lay side by side, their bodies touching but otherwise just ... still. Wally thought it might be the quietest room she had ever been in. She wondered how deeply she would sleep, whether it would be easier or harder after so long in s.p.a.ces that were not her own, that were full of the sounds of others.

"I think a lot ..." Tevin began, and then stopped himself, organizing his thoughts. "I think about ... after I'm gone. Like, who will remember me? Will anyone think that the world was a different place because I was in it?" He paused. "It sounds kind of dumb now that I say it out loud."

"It's not dumb."

"I guess," Tevin said, "what I'd like, when that time comes, I want to belong to someone. So at least one person will look back at the memory of me and think, he was mine."

It made Wally's heart ache to hear those words from Tevin. He had been alone in the world, set adrift by those who were supposed to take care of him, and now Wally and Jake and Ella were all he had.

"Could you and I belong to each other?" Tevin asked.

It was a moment before Wally answered.

"Yes," she said.

For that night they did belong to each other. Wally was glad for it, glad for Tevin that he was able to experience that closeness with someone who loved him and glad for herself that she had something so powerful to give. Before very long he was sound asleep. Wally listened as his breathing settled into a deep, peaceful rhythm before she quietly whispered the familiar lullaby to herself ...

Puskai prdet pora prosit'sia, Drug druga dolgo ne vidat?

No serditse s serdtsem, slovno pt.i.tsy, Konechno, vstretiatsia opiat ...

Halfway through the last verse, she was asleep as well.

TWENTY-ONE.

Atley was home alone with three-day-old spaghetti, watching the MichiganOhio State game and trying to put the events of the previous twenty-four hours out of his mind. He leapt on his cell phone when it rang, glad for the interruption.

"Detective, this is Claire Stoneman."

"Oh. Mrs. Stoneman ... is something wrong?"

"No no, not an emergency at all, Detective," she said hurriedly, hearing urgency in Atley's voice. "d.a.m.n it. I'm sorry. It's strange for me to call, I know. This was inconsiderate; I'll call you on Monday instead-"

"You're not bothering me. I'm enjoying a very low-key Thanksgiving this year."

"Okay. I was just ... I was hoping for news, anything."

Atley wasn't sure what to tell Claire Stoneman about her daughter and the Manetti murder case. Atley himself was on indefinite leave following the shoot-out in Charlene Rainer's building, pending the outcome of an OIS report on the incident. If his superiors had asked Atley to grade his own performance during the gunfight, he would have said that he failed in every way, and it would be hard to argue: shooters were still unidentified and had escaped, Wallis Stoneman was still running free, and two women-including Dr. Charlene Rainer-were dead. Not Atley's fault, but all of it happened on his watch.

The Sophia Manetti case was on indefinite hold, and the higher-ups in the precinct had decided that the two shooters in the Dr. Rainer incident had no connection to the Manetti murder. Atley disagreed. There was nothing random or arbitrary about the two shooters' actions on that day. The men were obviously there for either Wallis Stoneman or Charlene Rainer-or both. The likelihood that in the s.p.a.ce of ten days Wallis would be connected to two completely unrelated murders seemed very slim.

Now, on the line with Claire Stoneman, Atley was sure of one thing: he would not be mentioning the shoot-out to the distressed woman. She was desperate for news about her daughter, but even the tamest description of that violence would leave her with terrifying images of Wallis in danger. There was no point in that.

"I have nothing specific to tell you," Atley lied, "other than that the investigation is ongoing."

"I see," Claire said, clearly disappointed. There was silence on the line for a few moments, and Atley could feel her anxiety over the line.

"We're still working the case and we're still determined to bring your daughter home," Atley said. "No one is giving up."

"I appreciate that," she said. "I'm sorry for bothering you, Detective-"

"Tell me something about Wally," Atley said, feeling that he had let the woman down. He didn't want to end the conversation that way. "Anything about her."