Manhattan Mayhem Read Online Free PDF Page B

promise to give you privacy. Come on.” He stood, offering her his hand.
    Jane leaned back. “I don’t think so.”
    His face fell. “You don’t trust me?”
    “It’s not that.”
    “Then what?”
    She didn’t answer.
    “You can’t go back in time, Jane, but I promise you can find closure.”
    She remained seated.
    “I think you should do this,” he said softly. “I believe Samantha would want you to.”
    He looked down at her for a few moments before starting around the statue toward the path that lay beyond. She remained frozen for a solid count of thirty. When she finally stood, she hugged her book and whispered, “Closure.”
    The old man in the overcoat perked up as she drew near. He made a feeble attempt to beg, jangling his cup of coins. She didn’t speak, didn’t acknowledge him.
    Mark waited for her at the path’s opening. “Good girl.”
    She stopped and stared up at him. “I can do this.”
    They’d walked no more than a hundred yards when she whispered, “Is that beggar following us?”
    Mark turned. “Probably hoping I’ll cough up another couple bucks.”
    “I guess,” she said. “Doesn’t it seem like he’s moving quicker than before?”
    He laughed. “I can take him.”
    “I don’t know. He makes me nervous.”
    Mark veered left to cross East Drive, where he abandoned the walking path for the cover of the trees.
    “Where are we going?” Jane asked. “I thought we were heading toward Cedar Hill.”
    “Shortcut.”
    She followed, hurrying to keep up. “Why are you walking so fast?”
    “You want to lose that beggar, don’t you?”
    They picked their way along the uneven terrain, sidestepping tree roots that rose from the ground like giant knuckles. Twice Jane came close to losing her footing while navigating a rocky patch. “We passed the Boathouse parking lot back there.” She jerked a thumb over her left shoulder. “Are you sure we’re going the right direction?”
    “This way,” he said, leading them deeper into the trees. The ground was soft, covered in shifting layers of red and gold. Crisp-edged leaves somersaulted through patches of vivid brilliance where breaks in the canopy allowed the sun’s illumination to pass through.
    “Are you sure?” she asked, keeping pace.
    Rather than answer, he continued to shush and crunch through the quiet piles. “Watch out.” He indicated a fallen log, nearly obscured by the leaves in her path.
    Skirting it, she tried again. “I think we’re going the wrong way.”
    Mark turned. “Smell that,” he said lifting his chin high, drawing a noisy breath. “Decay and deliverance. There’s nothing sweeter.”
    Jane slowed. She glanced from side to side. “We’re still headed west. Shouldn’t we be going north?”
    Mark waited for her to catch up. Placing a hand on Jane’s back,he pointed deep into the trees. “There’s a lovely secluded spot not far ahead. I think it would be an ideal place for our ritual.”
    Resisting the pressure of his hand, Jane stutter-stepped. “I thought we were going to the grassy hill,” she said in a small voice.
    “Too many people,” Mark said. “A ritual like ours would attract attention. I know of a quiet place with a sloping rock behind a giant sycamore. A far better setting to pour out your heart.”
    She stopped. “Where are you taking me?”
    “If you truly long to be free, Jane,” he whispered into her ear, “then this is your only path.” Though his tone coaxed, it was the pressure of his hand on her back that propelled her through the trees. “Right through there.”
    “Stop.” Her body went rigid. “Why did you bring me here?” Jane looked up, down, side to side, like a little bird caught in a surprise cage. Book tight against her chest, she stared past him, shaking her head. “No.” The refusal came out hoarse and soft. She tried again. “Please. No.”
    “See?” He pointed deeper into the dense woods toward a stone outcropping just beyond a massive tree.