shoot
him
?
He was just about to climb into the Dumpster to pry out the bullet when the
crack-crack-crack
of splintering wood caught his attention. He heard a shout laced with fear. Someone’s apartment or business was being invaded. He cautioned himself not to blur again. As he often reminded Catherine, he wasn’t some superhero. Tonight he would do what he could to protect lives and property, but unfortunately there would be a limit. Just as there was for every other person on the planet. That was part of being human. For people like him—and Catherine—that was a limitation that was difficult to accept.
CHAPTER FOUR
2.45 A.M.
T he streets of New York City were as tangled as a jumble of rusty necklaces in a forgotten jewelry box. The anticipated crime wave had commenced, and citizens afraid to be in their homes had taken to their cars, trying to outdrive the darkness. The gumball lights of Cat and Tess’s squad car illuminated throngs of looters hopping in and out of broken storefront windows. Gleeful men, women, and even children staggered down sidewalks and alleys carrying toaster ovens, cameras, and laptop computers. They knew that unless the police officers abandoned their vehicle, thereby worsening the gridlock, no one was going to stop them.
Tess had called in and backup was on the way in the form of a van carrying a dozen unis. But Captain Ward had warned Tess and Cat that the resources of the 125th were fully deployed. He simply had no more officers to send out. The fire department and neighboring police precincts had their hands full, too. The mayor was talking about calling out the National Guard. It all depended on how long the blackout lasted.
“It was good of Captain Ward to let us keep DeMarco,” Tess said as they crawled along impatiently. “He could have put us on looter duty.”
“Vincent’s patrolling the Village.” Cat pictured various neighbors she had befriended, some of whom were frail and elderly. They would be vulnerable, afraid. “Remember when they used to call him the Vigilante? Tonight he actually is one.” “J.T.’s probably going crazy without his electricity,” Tess said. “I hope all his batteries were charged.”
Cat suppressed a grin and avoided the obvious double entendre about J.T.’s batteries. Beside her, Tess huffed and muttered, “Oh, my God, how old are you?”
“I didn’t say a word,” Cat protested. “Hey, innocent until proven guilty.” She waited a beat and then she added impishly. “Anyway, I knew you were talking about his lap. Top.”
“You
are
twelve.”
“I have the patience of a twelve-year-old right now,” Cat said. “Let’s hope Angelo DeMarco’s kidnappers are as hampered by the blackout as we are.”
“If they caused it, they’ve made plans for dealing with it,” Tess countered. “Don’t you think it’s weird that two people have gone missing during this blackout? Both their cases coming under FBI jurisdiction? I have to think they’re connected.” Tess toyed with her phone. “In the old days we could ask Gabe to check it out.”
“Don’t even say his name,” Cat grumped.
She looked out the window at the dead skyscrapers, then up at the obsidian sky, wondering where her father was. She remembered the three months of hell he had put her through when he had captured Vincent. Three months of searching. And heartbreak. And nightmares. It was ironic to her that a search for her father was underway. She would have nightmares until he was found, but her heart would never break for him.
“We’ll find him,” Tess said. “Hey, you know, maybe we
should
have asked for looter duty. We’d have more freedom to start searching.”
Tess was right. There were other detectives who could work the DeMarco kidnapping, but no one would be more invested in finding her father… except for Vincent. Any searching she did would have to be off the books, as always. Although she had been the arresting officer who brought her own father
him
?
He was just about to climb into the Dumpster to pry out the bullet when the
crack-crack-crack
of splintering wood caught his attention. He heard a shout laced with fear. Someone’s apartment or business was being invaded. He cautioned himself not to blur again. As he often reminded Catherine, he wasn’t some superhero. Tonight he would do what he could to protect lives and property, but unfortunately there would be a limit. Just as there was for every other person on the planet. That was part of being human. For people like him—and Catherine—that was a limitation that was difficult to accept.
CHAPTER FOUR
2.45 A.M.
T he streets of New York City were as tangled as a jumble of rusty necklaces in a forgotten jewelry box. The anticipated crime wave had commenced, and citizens afraid to be in their homes had taken to their cars, trying to outdrive the darkness. The gumball lights of Cat and Tess’s squad car illuminated throngs of looters hopping in and out of broken storefront windows. Gleeful men, women, and even children staggered down sidewalks and alleys carrying toaster ovens, cameras, and laptop computers. They knew that unless the police officers abandoned their vehicle, thereby worsening the gridlock, no one was going to stop them.
Tess had called in and backup was on the way in the form of a van carrying a dozen unis. But Captain Ward had warned Tess and Cat that the resources of the 125th were fully deployed. He simply had no more officers to send out. The fire department and neighboring police precincts had their hands full, too. The mayor was talking about calling out the National Guard. It all depended on how long the blackout lasted.
“It was good of Captain Ward to let us keep DeMarco,” Tess said as they crawled along impatiently. “He could have put us on looter duty.”
“Vincent’s patrolling the Village.” Cat pictured various neighbors she had befriended, some of whom were frail and elderly. They would be vulnerable, afraid. “Remember when they used to call him the Vigilante? Tonight he actually is one.” “J.T.’s probably going crazy without his electricity,” Tess said. “I hope all his batteries were charged.”
Cat suppressed a grin and avoided the obvious double entendre about J.T.’s batteries. Beside her, Tess huffed and muttered, “Oh, my God, how old are you?”
“I didn’t say a word,” Cat protested. “Hey, innocent until proven guilty.” She waited a beat and then she added impishly. “Anyway, I knew you were talking about his lap. Top.”
“You
are
twelve.”
“I have the patience of a twelve-year-old right now,” Cat said. “Let’s hope Angelo DeMarco’s kidnappers are as hampered by the blackout as we are.”
“If they caused it, they’ve made plans for dealing with it,” Tess countered. “Don’t you think it’s weird that two people have gone missing during this blackout? Both their cases coming under FBI jurisdiction? I have to think they’re connected.” Tess toyed with her phone. “In the old days we could ask Gabe to check it out.”
“Don’t even say his name,” Cat grumped.
She looked out the window at the dead skyscrapers, then up at the obsidian sky, wondering where her father was. She remembered the three months of hell he had put her through when he had captured Vincent. Three months of searching. And heartbreak. And nightmares. It was ironic to her that a search for her father was underway. She would have nightmares until he was found, but her heart would never break for him.
“We’ll find him,” Tess said. “Hey, you know, maybe we
should
have asked for looter duty. We’d have more freedom to start searching.”
Tess was right. There were other detectives who could work the DeMarco kidnapping, but no one would be more invested in finding her father… except for Vincent. Any searching she did would have to be off the books, as always. Although she had been the arresting officer who brought her own father