Note: Sorry for the long absence. It couldn't be helped. I haven't had access to my files for a month, so I've been unable to finish the last chapter of my other ongoing story...but I was able to put together something belated for New Year's in the meantime. I'll get back to the other one this week and finish it.

Happy New Year (1/2)

She pushed the door open and stood staring into her dim apartment. Hallway light slipped past her to hit the small tree on its table. Silver needles and ornaments glittered. One hand resting on the doorframe, she looked at each bauble in turn.

Water dripped from her umbrella and made a growing dark stain in the pale rug. The switch was at her fingertips but she did not turn on the light.

Through the living room window came more light, muted, in all the season's best colours. Red, gold, green. It rose up from street-level shops and restaurants and washed into the apartments above.

It could be special, this time of year. Christmas was over; the ball had dropped; the champagne bottles sat empty in recycling bins. Everyone was back to their homes and lives, and soon the trees would be put out or boxed away and the lights would come down, and the streets would return to their plainer selves. When January snow fell thick and made the world so bright and silent, or even when cold rains pounded the city until it hunched into itself, there was time to think after all the revelry. There was time to reflect, to consider, to plan. She'd found last January a time of optimism, renewal.

But 3 days after the bash at Times Square her neighbours' balconies were all still lit, and the hotels hadn't yet abandoned their holiday cheer. They were still within the 12 days, so people could grasp the last of Christmas and hold it close for a bit. They were still dancing, still remembering those carols, still finishing the leftovers and fingering the tinsel and enjoying the gifts. For most people this was a time to savour; it was easy. Even back at the office the coloured lights had shone and cubicles had been decorated with tacky stick-on snowflakes.

Of course it had been easy for them—

No. No, her inner voice chastised. She felt her face flush with shame as she thought of her colleagues. Deakins' sharp eyes had been soft and sad as she'd finally ordered them home. Mike had left to finally see his boys and his parents but had been joyless, his face anguished. No, it hadn't been easy for anyone. Not there under the fluorescent lighting of the bullpen. Not there in the eccentric nooks of the Archive. Not there in his empty apartment and nowhere in the bright-lit streets and all the places they'd searched, frantic. There was no easy.

God those lights. She scowled at the delicate sheers she'd put up 2 summers back. Let more light in, she'd thought. Let the city's life in. Where were those old solid blinds that blocked out the glare? Where had she put them?

Her fingers played over the light switch. She was cold and wet. Her bones ached. She could go inside and close the door. There were bottles in the pantry. She could curl under a blanket on the sofa and drink, and be warm. She leaned more heavily on the doorframe.

Buzzing. She blinked and took a breath, and her hand fished automatically into a pocket for her phone. It was Mike. "Yeah," she said.

"Kay, I was thinking."

"About?"

"The old building on Essex."

She mentally ran through their path, ticking off locations. "There are a lot of old buildings down there," she said.

"Yeah. But there's only one next to a high-end museum that's about to display priceless jewels."

"What?"

"Something I read while I was pondering things that bugged me."

"Things that bugged you."

"Yeah."

She sighed and her body seemed to decide it was time to move. Flicking on the lights and closing the door, she dropped her umbrella into the stand and started shrugging off her coat. "I don't know what you're talking about, Mike," she admitted.

A rustle on the line. She could almost see Mike shift in his chair as he pulled up information on his laptop. Jazz played softly in the background and she felt sadness wash over her again. "You know, you're supposed to be spending time with your family."

There was silence for a moment and then the click of keys. "Yeah," Mike sighed. "But he's family too."

"Okay. What have you got?"

"Maybe nothing. But that guy bugged me."

"The…security guard?"

"Yeah, him."

"What about him?"

"First of all, he's probably the most oblivious private security I've ever run into. NYPD's gunshot detection picks up a shot on that block, within 20 feet of that very building, and he hears nothing?"

Kay shrugged though her partner couldn't see her. "He makes minimum wage to sit in a lobby all day. It probably doesn't attract the best talent."

"Okay, but why'd the building need a security guard, anyway? It's an old apartment block. He said it was empty."

She sank into the couch, searching her memory. "He said something about vandalism, rocks through the windows, right?"

"Right. But I can't see why anyone would care. The building is slated for demolition. Most of the block is."

"Redevelopment."

"AKA gentrification. And the Hyler Museum is a perfect example, right next door. Grand opening this Sunday."

"What are these jewels you're talking about?"

"A private collection including a dozen jewels by JAR. The last major JAR auction brought in over $11 million."

"That's a pretty big exhibit for a small museum."

"It is," Mike agreed. "And it's only open for a limited time."

"Huh," she said, the wheels turning. She felt suddenly recharged and ready to move. "So a condemned building is being guarded, and it happens to sit next to this new museum. It's pretty thin, Mike."

"Agreed, but something else occurred to me."

"What?"

"Remember we were asking him if he'd seen anything in the street, any strange vehicles…."

"Yeah, and we covered that. He hadn't been outside in hours."

"Because he was inside on his cell phone, making New Year's plans with his girlfriend."

"Right."

"On his cell phone, Kay."

She sat up. "The signal."

"I couldn't get more than one bar when we were parked out front. Those old brick and stone buildings are hellish on cell reception. And it would have been even worse inside."

Oh. Oh. Her brain scrabbled to rationalize it. "Maybe he was on a landline?"

"Not in that building. Phone company disconnected service last month. I checked."

Kay was on her feet and striding to the door before Mike had finished speaking. "He couldn't have been on a call," she concluded. "But why would he lie?"

"What I was thinking. It could have nothing to do with Cameron."

"It could," Kay admitted. "But Cameron's car was parked barely a block away, and the GPS puts him there at the right time." She sighed. "Plus…."

"Yeah," Mike agreed. "Trouble magnet."

Closing the door behind her, Kay stood in the corridor again, blinking. "Mike, your kids have hardly seen you this Christmas."

Mike was obviously up and heading out; she heard the jingle of keys. "I know," he said. "But my parents are with them and they're okay. Let's go shake this tree."

….

They met at the office and called Deakins with an update, then took Mike's car. Federal Plaza's contemporary towers and wide streets fell away behind them and they passed into the Lower East Side, where trendy bars, boutiques and hotels crowded against gritty tenements and small family businesses. The neighbourhood, traditionally working class, was undergoing rapid change.

Kay eyed the old brick buildings, trying to orient herself as Mike turned down a quiet, tree-lined avenue. "Cameron's car was a block from here, wasn't it?"

"Yeah…uh, east of here." Mike checked the GPS screen and shook his head, then made another left to avoid construction. "Okay. Essex is up on the right."

"And –" she fished out her phone to check as he turned down the street – "almost no cell signal." She thought of the last time they'd been there. "Hey, maybe that's it."

"What?"

"Gunther said Cameron was coming to see a supplier for a New Year's Eve 'surprise' but never made it. Maybe he got detoured by the construction too. This neighbourhood can be like a maze."

"You think he got lost?"

"Well, we did. Remember driving around the same few blocks trying to get back to the main street?"

Mike pulled over to the curb and parked. "It makes sense. His GPS wouldn't have been much help with all the construction closures. Ours was pretty much useless. And he wouldn't have been able to get service to call anyone."

"So maybe he stopped for directions." Kay pushed open the passenger door and winced as a blast of icy wind swept through the car. Hunching into her coat, she circled around to the sidewalk. The building was just ahead. Beyond it, the Hyler Museum's massive windows gleamed under gassy street lights. It had replaced a geriatric tenement; more of the block would fall next to make way for shiny new condos, clubs, boutiques. Kay wondered where all the residents of those old buildings had gone. "This place looks empty."

"Yeah," Mike agreed, heading for the stairs. "If you hadn't spotted the lights inside last time, we'd have thought it was empty too." He tried the door, found it locked, and rang the manager's bell. They waited in the cold. Perhaps Cameron had come this way, to this very spot, to ask for a map, a landline, information.

Movement inside, the door opened and both agents flashed their credentials. The man who greeted them wore an inexpensive dark suit and a wary expression. Keys hung from his belt loop, jingling when he moved.

"Good evening," Kay said, not waiting for him to speak. "Special Agent Kay Daniels, and this is Special Agent Mike Alvarez. It's Gary, right?"

The man nodded. "Yeah. You were here a few days ago."

"We were. May we come in?"

"Um, yeah, please. Yeah, get outta the cold." They entered the lobby, noting fretwork panels, carved mouldings and the open mezzanine level with its dark wood balustrade. The building may never have been luxurious but it had probably leaned toward elegant, and decades later it still held onto some faded dignity. The heat was off but ceiling lights burned, casting an almost funereal glow over the space.

"They've kept the power on, at least," Mike commented.

"Yeah," Gary chuckled. "I think they may have forgot to cut it, but I'm not complaining." He looked from one to the other. "So, uh…you were here before about that shot someone heard. You were looking for someone, right?"

"Yes," Kay replied, pulling out the photo again. "This man was in the neighbourhood December 31st and we're just retracing his steps."

Gary's eyes lingered on the picture for a moment before cutting away. "Yeah, I didn't see that guy. I didn't see any guy, actually. Usually I'm pretty much by my lonesome here." He shrugged and grinned. "Just me and the roaches, I guess. And my heater, thank goodness."

"This is kind of a strange posting, isn't it?" Mike said, wandering over to get a closer look at the vintage wood panelling. He turned and took in the lobby. "I mean, it's an empty building. The last holdout tenants moved on a couple months ago, and now it's set for demolition."

Another shrug. "I can't say," Gary demurred. "I go where they send me, right?"

Kay raised an eyebrow at Mike. "And you never heard the gunshot."

"No, can't say I did. Are you sure there really was a gunshot?"

"Oh yes," Kay nodded. "It was actually picked up by the NYPD's software and tracked to this street, right out front."

"You don't say. That's pretty cool. But like I said last time, Agents…I didn't hear it."

Mike resumed his slow stroll around the lobby, studying the woodwork. Gary's eyes tracked him, flicked to Kay for a moment and then back to Mike.

"So how long have you worked here, Gary?" Kay asked, drawing his attention.

"Um, a couple weeks now. Pretty dull job."

"Who's your employer?"

"Paragon Development."

"They own the building?"

"Yeah."

A creak from the far side of the lobby drew both their looks. Mike had a door half open and was peering into the darkness behind it. He turned to face them. "So what's this?"

Kay felt Gary's stress levels ratchet up. "What is it, Mike?" she called.

"Stairway down. I guess to the basement, the boiler room, right? Looks like they've got lights down there, too. We saw them from outside, remember?"

"I love those street-level windows," Kay replied.

"Yeah, that's the basement," Gary said. He took a step toward Mike and then stopped. "I-uh…keep that door closed. You know, rats."

"Rats," Mike echoed.

Gary nodded and shuddered for effect. "We've had problems."

"I can imagine," Mike said gravely. "Rats."

"Exactly," Gary said.

Kay felt her instincts kick into high gear. Her hand rested near her weapon; she was ready for anything. Gary looked like he wanted nothing more than to toss them both out, but he kept that folksy grin plastered on his face like a mask.

"So can I see the basement?" Mike asked, leaning in a bit further to peer down the dark stairs. He telegraphed ease and idle curiosity but Kay could see in the way he moved that he was on alert. She waited.

For a moment Gary hesitated and the grin slipped a fraction, and then he shrugged again. "Suit yourself." He strode to the door and reached inside to flip a switch. A bare yellow bulb at the ceiling sputtered briefly but stayed lit.

"Thanks, man," Mike smiled. "You want to show us the way?"

Kay joined them, feeling the strange combination of tension and calm that came when she knew a situation could very soon go pear-shaped. She was vigilant and her muscles were ready, but her brain had gone quiet. The roiling thoughts – her unease, her sick growing dread over Cameron's fate – had stilled and left her with certainty born out of training and long experience. She had this. They had this.

Gary had gone quiet too, descending the stairs with what seemed like resignation. Mike was behind him, Kay trailing, their shadows lurching down the wall.

And then it went pear-shaped, fast.

….

To be continued