The upside of having her plan to catch the Butcher fall flat on its face was that Melanie got to go to her boss’s wedding. The tech squad went to work tracing the new e-mail, and Mark Sonschein made arrangements for the U.S. Marshal’s Service to begin providing round the-clock security for Melanie starting first thing in the morning. In the meantime, she’d be with Dan. Dan always carried his Glock nine-millimeter, and besides, they were going to a party full of cops who would be armed to the teeth, even while off duty. For added security, Dan instructed Agent Tim Crockett to take up position outside the church.
Bernadette was getting married in a magnificent Gothic edifice on a picturesque, brownstone-lined block in Brooklyn Heights. Dan and Melanie, decked out in their party clothes, pulled up in front of the church mere minutes before the ceremony was to begin. The New York City law enforcement community had turned out in full force, so not only was every parking space taken, but every legally parked car was blocked by double-and triple-parked ones, each with a police placard in its window.
“This looks bad. Should I run in and get us seats while you find a spot? You can watch me from the car to make sure it’s safe,” Melanie said.
“Not on your life, princess. I’m not missing the I-dos. I love weddings. If you’re lucky, I’ll start blubbering like a little kid and you’ll have something to blackmail me with.”
Dan threw the car into reverse and backed down the street at top speed. Then, taking advantage of a small gap between the parked cars at the corner, he threaded the needle, driving up onto the sidewalk with tires screeching.
“That defensive driving course comes in handy,” he said, cutting the engine and grinning. His smile took her breath away.
They leaped from the air-conditioned car into sticky heat. During the course of the afternoon, the weather had turned sultry in a way that felt permanent. The few hours of glorious summer New Yorkers were granted each year had ended, and they’d have dog days from now to September. As they dashed toward the church hand in hand, Melanie felt like she was running through warm water, and was grateful for her bare halter dress and high-heeled sandals. Halfway up the steps, she was gasping for breath and laughing when Dan abruptly turned and caught her by the waist.
“Hey,” he said.
“What?”
“C’mere.”
He pulled her tight against his chest, which felt hard as steel. In the glow from the setting sun, his blue eyes looked bottomless. She wanted to fall in and drown. They kissed for a long moment, and she forgot all the bad and scary things in life. All around her the sounds of the city hushed so that the only thing she heard was the beating of their hearts.
“Mmm,” she murmured.
Inside, the organist struck up “The Wedding March.”
“Let’s go. We’re missing it,” Dan said, and grabbed her hand, pulling her the rest of the way up the stairs.
The ushers had already disappeared. Melanie and Dan ducked into a back pew just ahead of the wedding party. The church was jam-packed and eighty degrees inside. All around the soaring space, papers fluttered as guests fanned themselves with hats, invitations, newspapers, anything they could find. Dan took her hand, and they turned to watch bridesmaids and groomsmen step in time down the aisle. Bernadette appeared on the arm of her frail father. She wore a true fairy-princess dress—pearl-encrusted bodice, enormous tulle skirt—and a long, trailing veil, and the incongruity of the costume on her calculating, tyrannical boss seemed to Melanie like the pure triumph of hope over cynicism.
As he’d promised, Dan’s eyes glittered with real tears. He raised Melanie’s hand to his lips and kissed it tenderly. With a price on her head, everything became clear. So there were ups and downs. So this relationship was intense and stormy. So be it. She wanted to be at his side.