She wouldn't hitch another ride. Not if Burns had just raped her. She'd take off on foot. Which means she couldn't have gotten far that night. A couple of miles maybe. Five tops.

Pulling out a map, Mitch pinpointed the spot where Burns's van was abandoned. With a red Sharpie, he drew a circle around the van at a five-mile radius.

There was only one town inside the circle.

THE OLD MAN WAVED HIS FRAIL arms excitedly. Mitch Connors fought back the urge to laugh. arms excitedly. Mitch Connors fought back the urge to laugh. He looks like Yoda having a seizure... He looks like Yoda having a seizure...

"I told 'em! I told 'em she wuz here, but they jus' pooh-poohed me. Reckon an old man like me don't know what he saw. Dead of night she shows up, dead of night. dead of night. No suitcase! I told 'em. I said, she din' have no case. That ain't right. But did anybody listen to me? No, sir." No suitcase! I told 'em. I said, she din' have no case. That ain't right. But did anybody listen to me? No, sir."

It turned out Richardsville only had the one motel. When Mitch called and mentioned Grace Brookstein's name, the proprietor of the Up All Night had gone ballistic. Yes Yes, Grace had been there. He'd already told the police. Didn't those bozos speak to each other? Grace had been there. He'd already told the police. Didn't those bozos speak to each other?

"I hope you gonna fire that officer. McInley. Arrogant little piece of S-H-I-T S-H-I-T, 'scuse my language, Detective. But I told 'em."

Mitch turned to the technician sweeping the room for prints. The technician shook his head. "Clean as a whistle, boss. Sorry. If she was here, she did a good job covering her tracks."

The old man looked like his grizzled head might explode. "What do you mean 'if she wuz here'? Ain't no she wuz here'? Ain't no if. if. She wuz She wuz here here! How many more times do I gotta tell you people? Grace. Brookstein. Wuz. Here."

"I'm sure she was, sir," said Mitch. But she's not here now. Another dead end. But she's not here now. Another dead end.

"How's about my reward? Man on the TV said two hundred thousan' dollars."

"We'll be in touch."

THERE WERE MESSAGES WAITING FOR M MITCH back at the station. back at the station.

"Your wife called," the sergeant on the desk told him.

"Ex-wife," Mitch corrected her.

"Whatever. She was yelling something about your kid's school play. She wasn't a happy camper."

Mitch groaned. d.a.m.n it. Celeste's play. Was that today? d.a.m.n it. Celeste's play. Was that today? Mitch had sworn up and down he'd be there, but with all the excitement of the last forty-eight hours, he'd totally forgotten. Mitch had sworn up and down he'd be there, but with all the excitement of the last forty-eight hours, he'd totally forgotten. I'm the worst father in the world I'm the worst father in the world and and the worst cop. Someone should give me a medal. the worst cop. Someone should give me a medal. Guiltily he began punching his old home number into his cell when the desk sergeant interrupted him. Guiltily he began punching his old home number into his cell when the desk sergeant interrupted him.

"One more thing, sir. A guy was here earlier. He said he had information about Grace Brookstein; said he knew her. He wanted to talk to you but he wouldn't wait."

"Well, did you get his details?"

She shook her head. "He wouldn't tell me anything. He said he'd wait for you in this bar until six." She handed Mitch a dirty piece of paper with an address scrawled on it.

Mitch sighed. It was probably another crank. On the other hand the bar was only a couple blocks away. And anything was preferable to facing Helen's wrath, or hearing the disappointment in Celeste's voice.

The clock on the wall said ten of six.

AT SIX O'CLOCK EXACTLY, MITCH WALKED into the bar just as a good-looking, dark-haired man with a hawklike nose was walking out. When Mitch saw there were no other customers, he ran back onto the street and caught up with him. into the bar just as a good-looking, dark-haired man with a hawklike nose was walking out. When Mitch saw there were no other customers, he ran back onto the street and caught up with him.

"Hey. Was it you who wanted to see me? I'm Detective Connors."

The dark-haired man looked at his watch. "You're late."

Mitch was irritated. Who does this d.i.c.khead think he is? Who does this d.i.c.khead think he is? "Look, buddy, I don't have time for games, okay? Do you have information for me or don't you?" "Look, buddy, I don't have time for games, okay? Do you have information for me or don't you?"

"You know, you might want to be a little more polite to me. Your a.s.s is on the line, Connors, and I can save it. For a price, of course. I know where Grace Brookstein's going to be at noon tomorrow. If you're nice to me-real nice-I'll take you to her."

CELESTE C CONNORS CRIED HERSELF TO SLEEP that night. that night.

Her daddy never called.

TWENTY.

DAVEY B BUCCOLA PACED HIS HOTEL ROOM like a caged tiger. His suite at the Paramount on Times Square was luxurious. Frette bed linen, sleek modern furniture, $500 cashmere blankets draped casually over the back of the armchair. Davey thought, like a caged tiger. His suite at the Paramount on Times Square was luxurious. Frette bed linen, sleek modern furniture, $500 cashmere blankets draped casually over the back of the armchair. Davey thought, This'd be an impressive place to bring a woman. This'd be an impressive place to bring a woman.

Unfortunately, he wasn't with a woman. He was with a bunch of cops. And they were starting to make him nervous.

"Stand still, please, Mr. Buccola. We need to check your wire."

Davey lit a cigarette, his third in as many minutes.

"Again?"

"Yes. Again." Mitch Connors was in a p.i.s.sy mood. "You want to see that two hundred grand, Mr. Buccola, I suggest you cooperate."

Davey thought, He's probably nervous, too. Doesn't want anything to go wrong. He's probably nervous, too. Doesn't want anything to go wrong.

Davey felt bad, doing the dirty on Grace Brookstein. He'd always liked her. What's more, he was convinced she was innocent of the crimes she'd been convicted of. But $200,000...two hundred thousand... He tried to rationalize the decision to himself. He was protecting Grace. This way she would be captured unharmed. He hadn't told Connors or any of the cops about the information he'd uncovered, either. Later, once Grace was safe, he'd use it to launch an appeal against her conviction and reopen the inquest into Lenny's death. He tried to rationalize the decision to himself. He was protecting Grace. This way she would be captured unharmed. He hadn't told Connors or any of the cops about the information he'd uncovered, either. Later, once Grace was safe, he'd use it to launch an appeal against her conviction and reopen the inquest into Lenny's death. Either that or sell it. What would Either that or sell it. What would Vanity Fair Vanity Fair pay for a scoop like this? pay for a scoop like this? If he was lucky, he might double his reward money! If he was lucky, he might double his reward money!

Of course, deep down, Davey Buccola knew the truth. He was betraying an innocent woman for money, the same way everybody else had betrayed her. It wasn't $200,000. It was thirty pieces of silver.

"Mr. Buccola. Are you with us?"

Davey looked up, startled. Mitch Connors was shouting at him again.

"We only have an hour. Let's run through the plan one more time."

GRACE DIPPED HER DOUGHNUT INTO THE hot black coffee and took a big, satisfying bite. hot black coffee and took a big, satisfying bite.

Delicious.

She and Lenny used to have the finest chefs on staff at all their homes, ready to prepare lobster Thermidor or whip up a Gruyere souffle at any hour of the day or night. But not until this week had Grace tasted a Dunkin' Donut. She couldn't imagine how she'd ever lived without them.

The week had been full of new experiences. The familiarity she felt when she first came back to New York had been replaced by a sort of delighted wonder. It was the same city she'd lived in, on and off, for her entire life. And yet it was completely different. This This New York, the New York of the ordinary people, of the poor, was like another planet to Grace, with its subway trains, its dirty buses, its doughnut shops, its walk-ups and shared bathrooms and television sets with wire coat hangers jammed into the top. Lenny had always told Grace it was terrible to be poor. "Poverty is the most degrading, most soul-destroying state into which the human soul can sink." Grace disagreed. True, she had never been poor before, but then Lenny had never been to prison. Grace had. She knew what "soul-destroying" meant. She knew what it was to be degraded, to be robbed of one's humanity. Poverty didn't come close. New York, the New York of the ordinary people, of the poor, was like another planet to Grace, with its subway trains, its dirty buses, its doughnut shops, its walk-ups and shared bathrooms and television sets with wire coat hangers jammed into the top. Lenny had always told Grace it was terrible to be poor. "Poverty is the most degrading, most soul-destroying state into which the human soul can sink." Grace disagreed. True, she had never been poor before, but then Lenny had never been to prison. Grace had. She knew what "soul-destroying" meant. She knew what it was to be degraded, to be robbed of one's humanity. Poverty didn't come close.

By all objective standards, the hotel in Queens where Grace had been staying was a dump-dirty, cramped, with depressing mustard-colored walls and linoleum floors. But Grace had come to enjoy the smells of fried onions wafting up from the hot-dog stand outside her window, and the ridiculous arguments between the couple across the hall. It made her feel less alone. As if she were part of something.

Getting dressed this morning, preparing for her meeting with Davey, she actually thought, I'll be sorry to leave here. I'll be sorry to leave here. But she knew she couldn't stay. For one thing, it wasn't safe. She had to keep moving. More important, the time had come to begin her mission. Armed with Davey's information, she could at last begin her journey. Today, her vengeance would take flight. But she knew she couldn't stay. For one thing, it wasn't safe. She had to keep moving. More important, the time had come to begin her mission. Armed with Davey's information, she could at last begin her journey. Today, her vengeance would take flight.

She had dressed simply for their rendezvous. Jeans, sneakers, a black polo-neck sweater and a down jacket, her beanie hat pulled low over her newly darkened hair. The jeans already felt a little tighter on the waist than they had in Richardsville. Grace was gaining weight, a side effect of her newfound doughnut addiction. Swallowing the dregs of her coffee, she looked at her watch. Eleven o'clock. Eleven o'clock.

She headed for the subway.

MITCH C CONNORS HADN'T SLEPT. THE PLAN was simple. Davey had arranged to meet Grace at noon exactly, in front of Toys "R" Us on Times Square. At that time of day the New York landmark should be crawling with shoppers looking for a bargain in the winter sales, as well as the usual backpack-laden hordes of tourists. Mitch had positioned two men behind Davey, inside the store, another two at the entrance to the subway and six more scattered throughout the crowd. All ten would be in plainclothes, wired and armed. Mitch wasn't expecting any trouble, but after the way Grace had dealt with that sc.u.mbag Tommy Burns, he wasn't taking any chances. As soon as Davey saw Grace in the crowd, he would use his hidden mike to alert the cops, who would close in around her. Once she reached Davey and shook his hand, that was the signal to move in and grab her. was simple. Davey had arranged to meet Grace at noon exactly, in front of Toys "R" Us on Times Square. At that time of day the New York landmark should be crawling with shoppers looking for a bargain in the winter sales, as well as the usual backpack-laden hordes of tourists. Mitch had positioned two men behind Davey, inside the store, another two at the entrance to the subway and six more scattered throughout the crowd. All ten would be in plainclothes, wired and armed. Mitch wasn't expecting any trouble, but after the way Grace had dealt with that sc.u.mbag Tommy Burns, he wasn't taking any chances. As soon as Davey saw Grace in the crowd, he would use his hidden mike to alert the cops, who would close in around her. Once she reached Davey and shook his hand, that was the signal to move in and grab her. Easy. Easy.

Mitch himself would be watching the proceedings from the Paramount Hotel. His face had been all over the news for weeks. If Grace saw him, she'd know something was up.

Davey Buccola lit another cigarette. Eleven forty-five. Time to go downstairs. Davey looked on in alarm as one of the cops checked his gun before slipping it back into the holster under his jacket.

"What's that for? You aren't going to hurt her, are you?"

The cop looked at Davey like something he'd just sc.r.a.ped off of his shoe. He'd given them good information but he was a snitch. n.o.body liked a snitch. "I'm sure Mrs. Brookstein would be touched by your concern. Are you ready?"

Davey nodded. Two hundred grand. My own place. Two hundred grand. My own place.

"I'm ready. Let's go."

TEN TO TWELVE.

"Do you see her?"

Davey Buccola stamped his feet against the cold. Resisting the urge to put his hand to his ear-he hated wires-he murmured, "Negative. Not yet."

Times Square was even more crowded than he'd expected. Toys "R" Us was jammed. Half of New York was out of work, but people would rather starve than see their kids go without the latest Hannah Montana doll or Special Agent Oso flashlight. Sad, really, Sad, really, Davey reflected. Davey reflected.

THE WOMAN OPPOSITE G GRACE WAS STARING. Grace felt her stomach flip over. Grace felt her stomach flip over.

"Hey."

The train was crowded, but no one was talking. The woman's voice rang out like a foghorn.

"Hey! I'm talking to you."

Grace looked up. She felt the blood rush to her face. She recognizes me. Oh G.o.d. She's going to say something. They'll turn on me. The whole train will turn on me, they'll rip me to shreds! She recognizes me. Oh G.o.d. She's going to say something. They'll turn on me. The whole train will turn on me, they'll rip me to shreds!

"You done with your paper?"

Paper? Grace looked down. There was a Grace looked down. There was a New York Post New York Post in her lap. She had no idea how it had gotten there. Wordlessly, she handed it over. in her lap. She had no idea how it had gotten there. Wordlessly, she handed it over.

"Thanks."

Suddenly the train jerked to a halt. The lights flickered, then went out. Everybody groaned. The lights came on again. Grace looked at her watch. Five to twelve. Five to twelve.

"Forget it," the man next to her said genially. "Wherever you're going, you're going to be late."

A voice came over the address system. "We apologize for the inconvenience. Due to some electrical problems, we expect a short delay."

No! Not today. Why today?

Grace took a deep breath. She couldn't draw attention to herself by appearing jittery. Besides, it was okay. They said a short delay. Davey would wait.

AS HE STARED OUT OF THE window Mitch's heart sank. window Mitch's heart sank.

She's not coming.

He'd been so sure this was it. So certain. The clock on the wall taunted him. Ten after twelve. What could have gone wrong? Had Buccola had a change of heart and tipped her off? Had Grace realized she couldn't trust him? Or maybe it was worse than that. Maybe something had happened to her. An accident. Someone had recognized her and taken the law into his own hands.

"I think I see her."

Buccola's voice sounded crackly in Mitch's earpiece.