Twenty-four hours passed. No change.
No change in Tina’s condition the next day either.
The surgeons still couldn’t get anywhere near the bullet. Her brain scans were steady, but the swelling around the wound was massive, the intracranial pressure high, the tissue damage unknown. All they could do was wait for it to recede. They just didn’t know if she’d pull through.
Kate spent most of those next days at the hospital with Ellen and Tom. She told the police how Tina had closed up for her that night. How she wasn’t into drugs or anything illegal. That she was the last person on earth to have a connection to any kind of gang.
The cops claimed they had leads. A man in a red bandanna was seen jumping into a white van down the street from the building and heading up Morris Avenue. Red bandannas were the trademark of the Bloods. It was how they cut their bones, the detective said. Shooting an innocent victim, right on the street. An informer in a rival gang had put the word out that that’s what was going down.
A gang initiation rite. Her friend was lying in a coma. How Kate would have liked to believe that, too.
That second night she and Greg got back to their apartment after 2:00 A.M. Neither of them could sleep. Or even think about sleep. All they could think about was Tina. They just sat on the couch, shell-shocked and stunned.
One day it had to come out, Kate knew. What would she say? Tom and Ellen had the right to know.
“I’ve got to contact Phil Cavetti, Greg,” Kate said. “The WITSEC people have to know.”
Kate understood that once she made that call, everything in their lives would change. They’d have to move. That was for sure. Maybe change their names. Greg was almost finished with his residency. He couldn’t simply leave. They were just starting out their lives.
Was this going to be hanging over their heads forever?
“The police say they have leads,” Greg said, trying his best to be calm and logical. “What if they’re right—and this is just some tragic coincidence?”
“This wasn’t about some gang.” Kate shook her head. “We both know that!”
This was killing her. Her best friend was fighting for her life, not some faceless person on the news.
“We both know that Tina was shot, Greg, because they thought it was me!”
He held her, and Kate tried her hardest to feel secure in his arms. But she knew. Cavetti and Margaret Seymour had warned her. Mercado wasn’t going to let this go away. What was it they had said? That it wasn’t just about revenge? It was deeper than that. They called it “insurance.” Insurance that the next time someone like her father turned against fraternidad, this wouldn’t happen again.
They finally managed to fall asleep there, in each other’s arms, mostly out of sheer exhaustion.
And in the morning they agreed to wait. Only one day longer—maybe two. Just to let the police play out their leads.
But during the night, Kate woke up. She lay there, pressed against Greg, heart beating, her T-shirt drenched in clammy sweat.
They knew.
The premonitions of the past few days had been right. The police could play out all the leads they wanted, but Kate would be able to conceal it only so long.
They had found her. There would be a next time. Of that she was sure. And what would happen then? When they found her for real.
What would happen when they realized that the wrong person had been shot?
Kate stirred, freeing herself from Greg’s embrace. She sat there in the dark for a moment, knees tucked tightly to her chest. She prayed her family was safe, wherever they were. From under her shirt, she pulled out the pendant her mother had given her the day she’d left. The halved golden sun. “It holds secrets, Kate. One day I’ll tell them to you.” Would they ever fit the two halves back together?
Mom, I wish I could hear those secrets from you now.
Kate got up and, in the shadows of the darkened apartment, stepped over to the front door. She reached for the heavy bolt. And drew it shut.
“Kate.” Tom O’Hearn reached over to her. “Go home.”
He put his arm around her on the ICU bench. “You look exhausted. Nothing’s going to happen tonight. I know you want to be here. But go home and get some sleep.”
Kate nodded. She knew he was right. She hadn’t slept six hours in the past two days. Her blood sugar was low. She hadn’t been to work. She basically hadn’t been anywhere except the hospital in the days since Tina had been shot.
“I promise.” He took her over to the elevator and gave her a hug. “We’ll call you with any news.”
“I know.”
Tina had been transferred to the head trauma ward at Bellevue Hospital on Twenty-seventh Street, the best in the city. Kate went down to the lobby and stepped out onto First Avenue. It was dark, going on 6:00 P.M. She’d been there all day. Not seeing any cabs, she walked over to Second and got on the downtown bus.
Okay … Kate found a seat in the back and, just for a moment, closed her eyes. Tom was right, she was exhausted. She needed to sleep. She had left the apartment that morning without giving herself her insulin shot. Greg was back at work doing sixteen-hour shifts. It was unsettling. This would be the first time since Tina’s shooting that she’d be back in the apartment alone.
Kate dozed a little. The bus ride went by in a flash. She woke up just in time to hop off at Ninth Street, a couple of blocks from where she lived. She’d almost slept through it.
As she stepped off the bus and started to walk along darkened Second Avenue, Kate had a sense that something was wrong.
Maybe it was the man stepping away from a building across from the bus stop, tossing a cigarette onto the sidewalk and following a short way behind. His footsteps against the pavement, keeping pace with hers. She told herself not to look back.
Kate, you’re just being paranoid. This is New York. The East Village. It’s crowded. This happens all the time.
She caught a glimpse of him in a storefront window. Still behind her. Hands in the pockets of his black leather jacket. He had a cap drawn over his eyes.
But she wasn’t being paranoid! Not this time. Not like back in the apartment. Kate’s heart started pounding. A shiver of fear ran down her spine.
Pick up your pace, she told herself. You only live a few blocks away.
Kate crossed the avenue heading down to Seventh. Her heart was slamming off her ribs now.
She turned onto her street. She felt the presence of the person following her a few yards behind. Up ahead there was a market she sometimes shopped in. Kate headed for it, forcing herself not to look around. She virtually ran inside.
For a second she felt safe. Kate grabbed a basket and ducked down one of the aisles, praying he wouldn’t come inside. She threw a few things in she pretended she needed—milk, yogurt, whole wheat bread. But all the while she was just waiting, focused on the window. There were people here. Her heart started to calm.
She took out her purse and went to the counter. She smiled a little nervously at Ingrid, the checkout girl, pushing back a harrowing thought: What if she’s the last person to see me alive?
Kate stepped back outside. For a moment