Prologue: The Stream
Scrambling down the irregular flight of stone steps, Reese and Fusco raced to the body sprawled in the shallows of the little stream.
At this turn in its course the rushing water slowed through a widened bed.
The resulting pool was flanked by gently sloping banks of grass dotted with stones. The water offered a dappled surface whose rippling was now disrupted by the naked human figure.
From the heights of the wooded cliff overlooking this quiet enclosure, the two men had spotted the body, known what its presence meant, and descended quickly despite the certainty that there was nothing more to be done.
Struggling behind him, Fusco marveled at Reese's movements, his sure-footed approach suggested that rock-climbing was yet another of his many skills. The exposed roots of ancient trees offered hand-holds which Fusco took advantage of. Reese flew by them with careless grace.
When he got to the stream, he waded into the water, looking along the grassy bank until he found the large stone he expected would be there.
Fusco picked it up, examined its smooth surface for evidence, and felt confident he had found the right one. With a grunt, he threw the stone into the deep center of the pool.
As he watched it sink below the concentric circles, he thought back to the events of two days earlier which had brought them to this melancholy place.
XXXPOIXXXPOIXXX
The Village
"Not a care in the world, huh, Lionel?
Reese's mocking voice buzzed into his ear, right up inside his head like a bee in a goddam flower.
"Country life looks good on you."
Fusco shifted forward on the bench and felt his sweaty shirt sticking to the wooden slats. A splinter worked its way along his bare thigh, just south of where his khaki shorts ended.
He turned to look at his sometime partner, who was sprawled like an obnoxious life guard next to him, all long legs, golden tan, and tons of attitude.
"What're you doing up here?"
Not the chummiest greeting, but then Fusco wasn't happy to see Reese so why should he pretend.
This was supposed to be his private vacation time, his week to relax. His chance to get away from the summer city, away from Reese and his nosy boss, away from their crackpot cases and lunatic assignments.
Out of town, out of sight, off duty.
No such luck. Damn Reese. And his prying, insinuating voice.
"Why, Lionel, I picked up a tourism guide book just the other day and it said that Onondaga County was the garden spot of New York state. And in fact, it said specifically that the quaint town of Ionia Corner was, Quote the ideal place to unwind, relax and leave the cares and worries of the city behind. Unquote."
"Bullshit."
"Yep, bullshit. How'd you guess?"
"I don't know, just a hunch, wise guy. So what gives?"
Fusco looked around at the picture window of the dress shop behind him.
Through the pink curlicue lettering, he could see Allison leaning over a glass case looking at rows of jewelry. Her long blonde curls draped over the counter top, hiding her face but exposing the sleek pale column of her neck.
She looked dazzling to him. She always did.
Allison made jewelry for a living, had closets full of the stuff - delicate little silver earrings, pendants, rings and bracelets - so why she would want to buy more was beyond him.
But he was just the beast-of-burden on her safari this afternoon, so his was not to reason why. If she wanted to fill up his arms with boxes and sacks and load him down with a saddlebag full of stuff to carry, he was happy for it.
If it meant he got to spend the day with Allison, tagging along like a regular boyfriend, that was what counted.
For the past seven months he had spent so much of his time trying to show her that being a cop wasn't all there was to him. That he could be more than that in her life.
So this four-day trip to visit her family farm was important. It meant that she wanted him to know her better, to take a new place in her life. He felt he knew Allison as an artist and businesswoman in Brooklyn; now he could see something of her roots as a daughter and sister in Ionia Corner too.
Well sure, when it came right down to it, he had to admit that except for the twice-a-day sex, this week had been frigging boring.
Wednesday, Thursday, now Friday. Creeping along in a parade of board games, hiking, berry picking, ice cream churning, reading the first novel in who knows how many years, complicated dinners, fierce family arguments. Tears, then more ice cream, more tears and shopping. Just your typical vacation in Upstate New York.
The village of Ionia Corner wasn't more than a single long street with baskets of flowers hanging from each lamppost.
The road was lined on both sides with snooty galleries and stores tricked out by hipsters who had escaped from Brooklyn carrying their artsy merchandise and used books, their herbal teas and weird flavored yogurt. Did anyone really want grape-balsamic frozen yogurt?
But this sleepy town was where Allison's family had hung out for almost fifty years. If he wanted to keep this relationship going past the first hot sex phase, he had to make nice with her people too.
So here he was, Bronx Boy Lionel Fusco, deep in Onondaga County.
And beyond all expectations, it really was kind of blissful, in an idiotic rural sort of way.
Until Mr. Good News turned up to ruin things, like always.
Lounging on the bench, his legs stuck out in front of him as if he owned the sidewalk, Reese looked like the summer was agreeing with him. That hang dog face with the hunted eyes and tight mouth was gone, replaced by an open expression and a light smile running across his lips.
He had put on a few pounds around the middle which, with the tan skin and the quiet hands, meant that he was at ease. As much at ease as he could ever get in his line of work.
The reason didn't require lots of hard investigation; Fusco figured it came down to Reese hanging around Carter. With her in the picture, Reese lost some of that wired up tenseness. He wasn't cheery and bouncy, not by a long shot, but the rough places were smoothed over a little. She was smart police and a savvy woman both. And Fusco figured she was using all of that know-how in this particular situation.
It wasn't Fusco's habit to mix in other people's personal business, even his partner's. That way just led to trouble, especially with someone as prickly and private as Carter.
But if she could get Mr. Gloom-and-Doom to sip from a glass half-full instead of half-empty every once in a while, then it was good for all four of them. So Fusco figured it was in his own best interest to help them keep a good thing going.
Reese was smirking at him now, the nastiest look in his repertoire.
"What am I doing up here? Visiting you, of course, Lionel."
"Dontcha got a job or a hobby or a friend in the city? There's a new baby elephant at the Bronx Zoo worth seeing. Born just last week, I hear."
"Hey, now you're hurting my feelings! Aren't you glad to see me?"
"Not on your life, pal. What are you doing here?"
"What do you think?"
Reese looked like a cat enjoying the mouse's last desperate minute. Fusco didn't want to give him the satisfaction, but he had to wipe the sweat threatening to drip past his eyebrows.
"On the job? Jesus, you mean you gotta number here in this burg? How's that even possible?"
"Not one, four. Pal."
"Whattaya mean, four?"
"Finch gave me new numbers last night, four in the same family. The Nix family. Maybe you know them, Lionel."
"Nix! That's Allison's family! You're up here to check out my girlfriend's family? You gotta be kidding me."
"Not kidding. Four numbers for four sisters, all here in Ionia Corner."
Reese's handsome face hardened a bit.
Despite his cheery pose, he was on a case and the investigation was important to him. Fusco knew that look: the focus, the intensity, the overwhelming conviction that no one but him could protect whoever was in danger.
Fusco felt a familiar thrill of anticipation tingling along his spine.
"So spill, what's the story?"
"I don't know yet. I just want to stay close, watch the family, check things out, make sure nothing goes wrong."
Reese had thought this through, it seemed, but only part way.
"So you need to wrangle me an invitation to stay the weekend with your girlfriend and her folks on their farm."
Despite the potential excitement of cracking another case together, Fusco was sure this was a bad idea. This one was far too personal.
"Oh, no! No chance! This is my first time meeting Allison's sisters and their old man. No way I'm screwing up this visit by shoe horning you in."
"Look, you know Finch's information is reliable. He's never been wrong. He's not wrong now."
Reese paused, as if daring Fusco to challenge that.
No denying it: the little guy did seem to have some kind of inside track on all sorts of private intel no one else had a handle on.
Maybe the Birdman was tapping into that data mining project the Feds had set up. Carter kept bitching for more info, crabbing on about it all the time. But Fusco figured the less they knew about Finch's sources the better off they were.
Annoying, sure, but since Reese was right about his partner, Fusco said nothing. Reese took that silence as consent, so he continued.
"One or all of the Nix sisters could be in danger this weekend, tonight even. You want to protect them, Lionel, you include me in your little house party."
Fusco looked once more into the shadows of the cozy shop.
Allison was at the cash register now, counting out bills for her purchase, her little white fingers flying over the leather wallet, her dimples flickering around her rose-pink mouth. She and the shop keeper looked happy.
He hesitated but Reese didn't give him any room for maneuvering.
"So what's it going to be, Lionel? An invite to the Nix farm? Or do I tell Allison about your tutoring lessons last month with that cute school teacher?"
"Tutoring? That was Lee's science fair thing."
"Yes, some kind of after school project, as I remember. What was her name? Ramona something?"