CHAPTER ONE
Bobby Wayne was really worried that within two months’ time, his family would be starving. Even though he had a job, it gave him no security. He’d been working for a cab company in Midtown Manhattan for about a year now and, for a while, things had been going great. Automobiles seemed to be an accepted part of life now, so the hesitancy to rely on them was quickly fading away. People had been generous in their tips and his stellar performance behind the wheel had even nudged his supervisors into increasing his wages a bit.
But then the market crashed. There had been rumors of it for a while but when it had actually hit, it was almost as if things had changed overnight. Many people no longer had the finances to be able to afford the services of a cab. And those that did were certainly not as generous with their tips anymore. In fact, the company he worked for had already released three drivers because of cutbacks and he was all but certain he would be next. He’d only had nine fares in the past two days, a time period in which he’d averaged about twenty-five previously.
Bobby knew if he lost his job, the savings he’d accumulated would get them through a few weeks. But if things didn’t turn around soon, he was going to have to start planning for his family in a totally different way. He already knew that there were people starving on the streets—most of them immigrants, but people were people as far as he was concerned—and the thought of his family soon being among them broke his heart. He had three kids and a saint of a wife; the idea of not being able to provide for them and keep them comfortable gnawed at his heart.
Bobby was taking his cab around his assigned area for the sixth time, winding his shift down as he passed along the night-shrouded streets. There were people coming and going, a small hustle-and-bustle that New York City was coming to adapt as part of its charm, but there was a bit less joy and enthusiasm to it these days. Bobby thought even the rich and supposedly unbreakable were starting to feel the pinch of the market crash but were unable to admit it to themselves just yet.
But when they had to face it head on in several weeks or months, this city might look very different indeed.
The sad truth of the matter was that desperation was starting to sink in for a lot of people. Bobby could see that on the streets. The night crowds were getting thinner and, during the day, there seemed to be an invisible sort of weight pressing down on everyone. Here they were, in a city that kept creating buildings that seemed to want to burst the sky open, but now that very same sky was pretty much collapsing on their heads.
Bobby came to a stop at an intersection. He looked ahead and saw a street with just a few milling people, most of the lights already out at just ten o’clock at night. A month ago, it would have been a very different picture indeed. He just couldn’t get over how quickly things had changed, how fast the city had brought so many people to a sudden halt.
He was so saddened by the sight of the streets ahead that he had no warning at all when the terrible, deafening sound erupted beside his cab.
He heard a slamming noise, something like metal being torn apart, and then glass breaking. It was so loud and sudden that Bobby let out a little shriek, jumping in his seat. He looked to his right and though he clearly knew what he was looking at, it took his mind a moment to process it.
There was a body stretched out on the hood of a car. Judging from the sound that had startled him, the wrecked condition of the hood and the shattered windshield, Bobby knew exactly what had happened.
This poor man had just jumped to his death. It was nothing new, not really. Bobby had read plenty of stories in the papers about people—particularly banker and investment types that had lost tons of money as a result of the crash-- jumping to their deaths or putting bullets in their own heads.
Bobby got out of his cab on shaky feet and started walking toward the tragic sight. But he made it no farther than the hood of his own car. It was just too awful. The man’s neck had snapped, his left leg was bent at an impossible angle, and his entire body was twisted in a way that defied explanation. Bobby was grateful that the dead man’s head wasn’t turned in his direction.
And then there was all the blood. It was everywhere, visible even in the darkness and somehow sparkling in the shattered glass.
It was too much for Bobby. It wasn’t just the brutal death of this man but, as he stood there on the darkened street, Bobby saw this man as the state of the city. And if things didn’t change soon, he feared there would be no hope for his family—or the millions of others that called New York home.
CHAPTER TWO
When Ava had first started working under Captain Minard’s watchful eye, she’d found herself nervous and on edge whenever she spoke with him. It had been even worse whenever she’d had to enter his office. The uneasy feeling had lightened up a bit when she’d become a detective, but she still felt a little out of place.
She felt that again as she looked at his office door. It was 12:56, and she had a meeting scheduled for 1:00. When she’d discovered Frank had also been called to join the meeting, she felt a bit better, but not much.
They sat together at Frank’s desk, looking in that direction and waiting for the next four minutes to pass. Sitting in her anxiousness, Ava thought back over their last few months together—particularly how they’d quickly evolved from head-butting partners to something much more romantic. They were not lovers, because they’d not yet slept together, but the physical act was the only thing missing from the label. As such, she could usually read Frank fairly well but, right now, she couldn’t tell if he was nervous or not; the man wore his expressions like a cheap, gray suit. It was impossible to read him most of the time.
“Do you haveanyidea what this might be about?” Ava asked.
“No. No more than you do. It could be about maybe dividing a few detectives up to create some sort of task force regarding the crimes and deaths related to this market crash. It’s getting out of hand. There were two more last night. Did you hear about them?”
“Yeah.” Shehadheard about them, but she tried not to obsess over them. She hated the idea that power and money had so much sway over how people viewed their lives. Money could be earned back, after all. A wasted life ended too early could not.
She also didn’t think this would be the reason behind the meeting. She knew that Minard valued Frank’s position as detective on his force. She highly doubted Minard would use Frank on some sort of side project to look into crashed market-based crimes.
Frank looked at his watch and lightly nudged her. He was trying to be playful, but she could tell he was also uneasy. In a strange way, it actually helped to calm her nerves a bit. “Might as well get to it, then,” he said.
She let him get a few steps ahead of her, always aware of what they might look like to the other officers and detectives. When he was nearly at Minard’s office door, Ava got up and followed after him. She watched as Frank knocked, waited for an answer, and then opened it. He held the door for her, and she also stepped inside. When she did, she noticed right away that Captain Minard was not alone.
The other man in the office was sitting in one of the chairs on the other side of Minard’s desk—the side she and Frank typically sat on. He stood up when she entered and offered his hand to both of them. This was a huge show of respect as far as Ava was concerned, as most men would never think of extending such a gesture to a woman. She shook his hand as he smiled at her and though she had no idea who he was, Captain Minard filled her in.
“Detectives Wimbly and Gold, this is Chief Adam Freemantle,” he said. “He’s one of four chiefs that oversee all the precincts in the city.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you both,” Freemantle said. He looked to be a bit older than Minard and carried himself well. The shape of his shoulders made her think of her own father, who had been involved in boxing since the age of sixteen. Freemantle was completely bald, but wore a moustache that was perfectly trimmed.
“Same to you, sir,” Ava said. Still, the presence of one of the primary chiefs at this meeting tripled her anxiety.
“It’s an honor, sir,” Frank said.