Chapter Seventeen: (just barely) Tuesday, December 27, 2005, New York City

"Simon?" Matt answered on the first ring. "Is everything all right?"

"Yeah, it's fine. I expected to get your machine."

"I just got in from work. Are you sure you're okay? Mom called to say you'd arrived."

"Yeah. I've been here a little while. Caroline was waiting for me."

"Is she there now?"

"No, Matt," Simon answered, his tone flat.

"Just checking."

He flopped down in an armchair. "Are you still able to make it to breakfast tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I'll be there. Hey. You know I love you, don't you."

"I know. I love you too." Simon hung up the call. He got up and walked around the apartment. On Catherine's desk, on the other side of the living room, sat pictures of some her children—including one of a very young Jake and Caroline playing in the park. He might not even have recognized Jake if Caroline weren't so unmistakable, even as a little girl, with that mane of wild strawberry blonde curls. There was another picture on the desk of an older man—maybe Cathy's dad? He'd passed away sixteen years ago. Cathy had the smile as him, the same warmth. Simon saw the same kindness in the man's eyes.

Stranger that there were no pictures of her husband—but he didn't give it much thought.

He went into the bedroom and unpacked his bags. Cathy only kept a few things in the apartment; the closet was mostly empty, and what was there was hung in garment bags. Simon hung the bag with his rented tux up next to them. The rest of his stuff fit neatly in two empty dresser drawers.

Still not tired enough for bed, Simon bundled himself back up and headed down to the street to take a walk. He was sure Mom would have a fit, but this was Manhattan, not some burnt out neighborhood like where Jake and Caroline had taken him that night.

And yet, she'd been fearless.

The doorman got up from his post and held the door for him with a smile and a nod that Simon returned, and the cold air hit him full on in the face again. He gave himself a moment to adjust to it, to the sight of his breath coming out in little white puffs—to wonder how on earth people lived in this cold, and why some of them did it voluntarily.

The snow wasn't even pretty. It was grey and slushy on the street, dingy on the sidewalk from being tromped on by muddy feet.

Simon picked a direction and started walking. He wasn't going to be out long enough to get lost, he just needed to stretch his legs after the long flight, then maybe he'd be able to get to sleep. When he passed by a jewelry store window, he couldn't help but notice the display of diamond rings, even if it was silly to even think about things like that, even if he knew Caroline so much better than Matt had known Sarah when they got engaged.

"Awful cold night for a walk."

Simon jumped at the sound of the voice—then he recognized her reflection in the store window and turned around. "Kate."

She grinned. It was an oddly unnerving sort of smile.

"Yeah, it is," he agreed. Even though she was dressed in jeans and a leather jacket, tall leather boots, she still had to be freezing. "Cold, I mean," he clarified and she laughed.

Definitely unnerving. Her laugh was…adult.

"Can I buy you a cup of coffee or something?" Simon asked, although he had no idea if anything was open at this hour. Then again, wasn't New York supposed to be the "city that never sleeps"? There wasn't a whole lot of foot traffic, but there were plenty of cabs and even regular cars on the road.

"How about we just walk a little?" Kate offered.

"Um…sure. Why not?" Just because the offer sounded like something a serial killer might say…. He shook himself. She was a friend of Jake and Caroline's, a friend of their parents. He fell into step next to her, but made a point to keep tabs on where they were, just so he wouldn't get lost, because the first thing she did was turn the next corner. "So, ah…you've known Caroline's family a long time…?" he asked, trying to break the ice a little.

"Since a little before Jake was born."

Simon blinked. She didn't look even as old as Jake. They walked to the end of the block in silence. Kate turned the corner again and Simon followed. "Do you have family around here—?"

Her gaze iced over. Even the temperature around them seemed to drop.

"Sorry, I—"

"My brother was murdered by the same man who nearly killed Catherine," she said, her voice cold and brittle like broken glass.

"I…I'm sorry." Simon knew the story; Caroline had told him. Some madman, a mobster with connections all over the city, including the D.A.'s office, had taken Cathy. Held her. Nearly killed her. Kidnapped Jake. Gabriel had used Cathy to try and intimidate Joe Maxwell into dropping his investigation and it had almost worked. What Simon didn't know—and what he still couldn't quite piece together even with new information—was that Kate had fit into it somehow. All he could do was tell her that he was sorry about her brother.

"I'm not."

"You…?"

"He was supposed to be there. He was supposed to protect me. That's what big brothers do. Instead he…he who got himself involved in things that were too big for him and when things got to be too much, he ran away. He left me to…. They did to me what they tried to do to Catherine."

"I—" They'd done to her what they tried to do to Cathy? But…they'd tried to kill Cathy….

"It's ancient history." Kate's smile wasn't reassuring.

"Maybe…have you talked to anybody? A councilor or—"

She laughed. It was a cold, dark sound that Simon took as a definitive "no".

"Look, I don't mean to… to be my dad." He almost laughed himself, because that was what he was doing, butting in, trying to help. "But…did Caroline tell you about Paul Smith? The kid I killed?"

"She did. But she didn't have to." Kate stopped and looked up at him. Maybe it was the way the shadows hit her face, but she suddenly seemed older. Colder. Darker. Like maybe she wasn't really there at all, she was just the shadow of a girl. "I have a talent for seeing other people's pain, Simon. I don't always see the cause, but I can feel it. I can touch it when I want to." She smiled then, a real smile, the kind that cut through the darkness. "You don't have so much pain tonight. I'm glad."

Simon opened his mouth to say that was because he'd been seeing a therapist—but something deep inside told him therapy wouldn't help Kate. She didn't need that kind of help. She needed…. He reached out for her hand and felt irrational surprise when she took it. Some of the shadow seemed to slip away from her face. She closed her eyes for a long moment, her skin growing warmer, the ice melting away—then let go of his hand.

"Thank you."

"For…?"

She chuckled; it wasn't such an unnerving sound. She started walking again and rounded another corner. "You're a good person, Simon Camden. I'm glad I ran into you tonight."

"Me too. Where were you headed, anyway?"

"Nowhere in particular. Dante's is closed for the holiday. Don't tell anybody, but the boss is actually a regular person with a family."

He laughed. They'd arrived back at Cathy's building. Apparently, all those turns had been one big square

"I believe, this," Kate said, "is your stop."

"So it is. Do you want to come up? I'm still on California time, and it really is cold out here."

She touched his chest, her hand resting over his heart. "I'm good. I have plenty of places I can go and more friends than I ever dreamed it was possible for something like me to have. Maybe that's why I'm still here." She smiled and for a moment—and stepped back. "Get some sleep. I'll see you at Elliott's party."