“Between Calvin leaving the hotel and you speaking to the Collector on his phone, that gives us under an hour and twenty minutes to account for.”
I perked up and turned to Quinn. “Take the traffic into consideration….”
“And we have a working search radius,” she concluded.
“How’s it smell down there, Crime Scene Guy?” One of the city workers laughed as he leaned over the basin and called down to Neil.
I didn’t hear a response from the Third Circle of Hell, but based on the chuckles from the DEP gentlemen, I suspected Neil had flipped them off while standing up to his hips in refuse.
I took my phone from my pocket and turned the screen on. Half a dozen missed calls from Max. I ignored them and opened the maps application. This close to the East River, the streets were turned into wind tunnels and the temperature was noticeably lower than neighborhoods north of here. My fingertips were frozen, making for a few frustrating attempts as I zoomed in on streets. Pop-ups began appearing on the screen to warn of heavy traffic areas.
“If we allow the Collector… say, ten minutes for making a drop-off… that’s still just over an hour to get as far as they can, then turn around and reach the Financial District.Quinn.” I looked up. “That doesn’t narrow the scope enough. Calvin could be in DumboorBrooklyn Heights. The Collector could have made it seem as if they wanted to leave the borough to give us a false trail. In which case, Calvin might actually be inTribeca.”
“Seb.”
I calculated how much time had passed since I opened the package of human teeth, and typed it into a timer app. “We can’t search that much ground in… forty-six hours and forty-two minutes.”
Quinn looked at me. She grabbed the front of my coat, dragged me away from the commotion of the basin, and said in a hushed tone, “I need youhereandnow, Sebastian.”
“Iamhere. But I—”
Her mouth formed a thin, grim line. “Calvin’s my best friend.” She put her hands on her hips and avoided my eyes, instead scanning the scene over my shoulder. “September twenty-eight—twenty-two days after I was promoted and we were assigned to work together—he saved my life. Drug dealers don’t like being hauled in for questioning by cops. Imagine that.” Quinn reluctantly returned her gaze to me. “I made a stupid mistake. Didn’t clear behind the door. Next thing I knew, the barrel of a semiautomatic is resting on the back of my fucking head. Anyway… Calvin’s a hero. To a lot of people. Including me.”
I barely nodded.
“But this isn’t the same situation. I can’t save him with brute strength alone. The Collector contactedyou. Let’s not forget that.” She reached up and flicked my forehead with her thumb and forefinger.
“Ouch.”
“Keep your head on. We need it.” She walked back to the side of the road.
I turned around. Neil was climbing out of the hole, the lower half of his jumpsuit covered and dripping in a foul-smelling, dark-colored slop. I walked to the edge of the sidewalk.
Neil lifted his mask up and over his head. He handed it off to a nearby officer and squelched toward us. He held what was once a working iPhone. “What color was Calvin’s phone?”
“Really?” I asked.
Neil corrected himself and directed the question at Quinn.
“Red,” she answered. “The limited-edition one that came out a few months ago.”
Neil turned the phone, showing what I had to assume was a red backing. “The serial will confirm—but I’m happy to make an intuitive leap and say this is Calvin’s.”
“You really stink,” I muttered.
“Yeah,” Neil answered in a very matter-of-fact tone.
Tires squealed at the end of the block, and the three of us turned. An unmarked car with lights flashing had parked diagonally along the street. Two figures got out of the front, but I couldn’t make out any details at this distance.
“Shit,” Quinn swore. “My sergeant.”
“Who’s the other guy?” I asked.
“Rossi,” she answered with a growl. Quinn moved around me to take a line of defense. “Sir—”
“I want him out of here, Lancaster,” Sarge ordered, pointing at me as he joined the hubbub.
“But Mr. Snow is—” she started.
