Page 195 of Callan

On the other hand, considering what happened last night, things are not that good.

I finally let the door close, trying to ignore the sharp pain in my chest.

The elevator moves, and I can’t not think that I might not see Mackenzie again, and for a host of reasons.

“She’s not exactly out of the loop,” I say. “They almost got her last night. And I still don’t know who’s behind all this.”

A pause ensues.

“Speaking about that…” she says. “I’m waiting on some important information that might solve this riddle. My source has to confirm it first. It’s about the piece you lost.”

The necklace.

“Tell me more,” I say, walking out of the elevator and across the foyer.

The doorman opens the door for me, and arctic air dripping with icicles sweeps my face.

A car is waiting for me, the driver holding the door.

Manhattan looks abandoned after last night’s celebration. The streets are deserted, and the city is quiet.

A few lights shine along the road.

“Good morning, sir,” the driver says before signaling to the car behind us.

Soon, the man sits behind the wheel while I claim my seat in the back.

My ride glides away as we’re heading to the airport.

“I have some information about a house in Brooklyn, where some Irish people established residence a few months back,” Beverly says. “They had a bunch of guests, and some of those people had strong connections to Alvarez and Thomas.”

“Where are those people?”

“They’re all dead.”

“What finished them?” I ask, seeing where this is going.

“They all died of natural causes,” she says seriously, and I almost crack a smile.

“You’ve got a name?”

“Not yet. But, what I’m saying here is they have their hands full with other things, and I doubt they have time to chase your girl around.”

A few moments pass.

“I appreciate your concern, but do you think that makes me feel any better?”

“I hope so. Frankly, there’s not much you can do besides staying away from her until things clear up. Lose contact with her for a few days. It’s better to have her all riled up and mad than caught in the crossfire of a madman.”

“How soon can you get me a name?” I ask, impatient.

“I’ll probably have it later today.”

We end the call, and I sag in my seat, running a tense hand through my hair before closing my eyes and trying not to thinkabout anything other than how Mackenzie felt when I was inside her.

31

MACKENZIE

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