forty

Megan was halfway up 93rd Street to her apartment when her cell vibrated. 1 text message was indicated. She pressed the view message button.

Sweet Caroline appeared. Megan stared down at the text. Her face, reflected off the phone’s glass screen, made her look nauseated and faint. She knew her eyes were open, but her surroundings were out of focus; everything seemed to be spinning around her like an amusement park ride out of control.

“Please, God … no …” She took a deep breath and dialed the phone number the text originated from. Megan knew a woman named Caroline should answer the phone, but wouldn’t. It was too late for Caroline, whoever she was.

“Hi, this is Caroline. Sorry I missed your call. Leave your name and number and I’ll get back to you.” The sweet voice echoed through Megan’s head. She hung up before the signal sounded to leave a message. She leaned against the railing of a brownstone to steady herself.

Her phone vibrated again. Her cell phone might as well have weighed three hundred pounds with how much energy it took to raise it into view.

“McGinn.”

“I know.”

He remained silent.

“Her name is Caroline,” Megan said it as if she’d asked someone to pass the salt. “I just got a text.”

“There’s something else.”

“What?”

“I need you to come over, quietly, and I mean quietly. Palumbo and Rasmussen know you’re on your way. No bravado, otherwise it’s all our asses.”

“Nappa, what is it?” she demanded.

“We’re at Two-Thirty East Eighty-Seventh Street. Caroline Dacey.”

“Okay.”