Chapter Forty-Four
Oysters
Nora ran her fingers gently over the photo of Kyle, wishing desperately that she had any inkling of where he was. The California lead was long since dead. Mozzie hadn't been able to find anything in the entire west coast – or anywhere else, for that matter – that suggested where the man with the ring might have taken Kyle next.
In the photo, his bright blue eyes shone with concern – not quite fear, but silent contempt. His soft brown hair was cropped short along the sides, the top styled in a short wave. His face was round, boyish, and clean-shaven.
With a sigh, Nora held the photo to her chest for a moment, feeling her heart beat under it. Despite Kyle's messages, his clues, it was hard for her to hold back the crushing wave of hopelessness that ebbed inside of her. It might have been different if they were working a high profile case at the office; those were engaging, distracting. She didn't have so much time to sit and think. But one had yet to pop up in the weeks following the Aimes arrest.
There was a soft rapping on the door, a quick pattern. Mozzie. She stuffed the photo under her pillow – she hated him seeing her wallow – and stood, grabbing her glass of wine off the night stand. "It's open," she called.
He rushed in, holding a book in his hand. "I found it," he said simply, setting the book down on the table and opening it to a page in the middle. Nora joined him, taking a sip. "Right there." The page was a map, with a picture of the bottle's map paper-clipped to the page next to it. A circle was drawn around a point on the page in red marker.
"Grand Central," she realized. She nodded firmly. "So, something's there that he wants me to find."
Mozzie shifted. "But, thousands of people have been through there since Kyle left the message in the security tape. The odds that someone hasn't already found it by-"
"Clearly, he thought that wouldn't be an issue," Nora insisted, cutting him off. "Otherwise, he would have left whatever clue or message somewhere else."
"I suppose."
Nora drained her glass and grabbed the bottle off the shelf. "Let's go."
"Right now?" She raised an eyebrow, and he sighed, gesturing toward the door. "After you."
It was early afternoon, and Grand Central Station was bustling with people. Nora and Mozzie stopped under an arch outside of the station, glancing around, subtly casing the area. Nothing immediately stood out. "Kyle leaves you a bottle with a map on it, and this is where it leads us," Mozzie huffed. "Grand Central Station?"
Nora brushed him off. "It's something I'd recognize, Moz. Something significant."
"Significant?" Mozzie repeated, incredulous. "Grand Central Station.
"Something familiar," Nora breathed. She bit her lip, eyes meticulously scanning over every detail. It was practically second-nature, thief's eyes.
"He could have sent us anywhere," Mozzie added, "so he sends us to a place that leads everywhere?"
Nora's eyes caught on a spot in the metal structure of the arch. "Moz." A panel with an X design across it, like a big, shining beacon. Hidden in plain sight.
Mozzie ignored her, not seeing the X. "You know, there's a great oyster bar in there-" She cut him off, pressing the bottle into his chest as she passed. He glanced around, now seeing the X. Nora climbed up on the foundation under it.
"I think there's something in here." She reached toward a small gap under where the X panel was. She was too short. Glancing around, she noticed a plant in a big, concrete planter and carefully stepped up on it to give herself a boost up. She balanced precariously on the edge with one foot, stretched out with one hand on the wall for support while she reached for the gap with the other. If any of the passers-by thought the sight unusual, they didn't show it – New Yorkers were used to seeing people doing strange things in the streets.
"X marks the spot?" Mozzie asked in disbelief. "Again?" Nora ignored him. She felt something in the space in the metal and pulled it out carefully, hoping it wasn't something gross someone had stuffed up there ages ago. It was a sheet of paper.
Nora hopped down. "Kyle loves the classics." Nora sat down on the foundation and Moz joined her. She barely had time to glance over the note before he grabbed it away and started reading aloud.
"'Dear Nora, heard you're looking for me. Wish I could explain more, but time is not on our side. But you need to stop looking. No one can deny what we have, but it's over. Please move on. Kyle.'" He handed the note back.
Nora's heart sunk as he read. He wouldn't have gone through so much trouble just to say so long. It didn't make sense. "All this for move on," she sighed.
"Oddly bipolar." Mozzie shook his head. "I'd rather have some oysters." Nora unfolded the note, reading it again. There's more to this, she told herself, not sure if she really believed it or not. There has to be.
Mozzie clapped her on the shoulder, squeezing lightly to comfort her. It didn't but, she offered a weak smile anyway. "Come on," she sighed. "Let's go get you those oysters."
He was right; the oysters were great. Nora ate them numbly. She'd tucked the note away in her purse so Mozzie wouldn't think she was dwelling on it, but she tumbled the words around in her mind as they ate. Perhaps it was just her desperation talking, but she couldn't shake the feeling that there was something off about it, something that just wasn't quite kosher. She decided not to voice this thought lest Mozzie start worrying she was in denial. Maybe I am.
Once back in her apartment, alone with her wine and her thoughts, Nora pulled out all the leads she had on Kyle and sat them before her on the table. And stared at them. It felt like she spent hours just looking, running over all the little threads and clues in her mind ad nauseam. It was late by the time she pulled herself away and got ready for bed.
The next morning, as she ate breakfast on the balcony, she attempted to read the paper, but found herself unable to focus. The day was beautiful, bright and blue. A knocking on the glass doors snapped her out of her thoughts. She could see Peter on the other side.
"Hey," he said, stepping out into the sunlight.
"Hey," she returned. He was carrying a file. She knew what that meant; a case. Hopefully a good one. Nora felt like she needed it, a distraction, an win.
"Have a good weekend?"
"Ah, nothing too exciting," she said smoothly, slipping easily into a relaxed, unconcerned facade. "I went to the park." She had; he could check, if he wanted.
"Oh, great." He walked behind her, taking in the view. "Glad you're getting out." Nora cast a glance over her shoulder, suspicious. Since when did Peter care if she was 'getting out' or not?
"Coffee?" she offered lightly.
"Love to, no time," he said quickly. "Got a stolen painting."
"It's June's Italian roast," Nora said in mock disbelief. Peter loved the coffee.
"It's..." Peter paused, considering the coffee for a moment. "Haustenburg." He handed her a folder.
"Haustenburg," Nora said wistfully. She loved Haustenburg. "Wow." She opened the file and started skimming it. "Was it a museum heist?" Peter poured himself a cup of coffee, unable to resist the temptation. If Nora hadn't been invested in the case file, she would have teased him.
"Nope," he admitted. "Residential robbery." That was a shock. Nora felt a wave of excitement growing in her stomach. She had a good feeling about the case. It was promising.
"I'd like to meet the person who keeps a Haustenburg above their mantle."
