Dead Harvest

  "It's braciola" she replied. It was my favorite, and she knew it. I felt like an ass for snapping at her – God knows it was the last thing she needed right now.

  "How're you feeling today?" I asked.

  She flashed me a smile over her shoulder. "Well," she said. "I think the tincture Annie got for me is working."

  "Liz, that's great! You'll beat this yet, you wait and see."

  She dropped her gaze and said nothing for a moment, then: "Oh, I forgot to tell you – Johnnie Morhaim stopped by to see you. Third time this week, I think."

  "Yeah, I'll bet he did. He comes around again, you just let him knock, OK? I don't like the thought of the two of you here alone together."

  "Honestly, Sam, he's always been perfectly polite to me. Don't you think you're overreacting a little?" I shot her a look that made it clear that I thought no such thing.

  The timer on the stovetop buzzed. Elizabeth took the pan off of the heat and transferred its contents to a serving plate. "Go wash up," she said. "Dinner's ready."

  I kissed her neck and headed down the hall to the bathroom. The water ran rusty from the tap, and I waited for it to run clear before splashing my face and washing my hands. I heard the familiar patter of water against tile, and cursed softly to myself – the fittings must be loose again, I thought. And as I ducked my head beneath the vanity to reach the pipes beneath, something in the trash can caught my eye.

  It was one of Elizabeth's handkerchiefs, crumpled and discarded; I could just make out the delicate stitching of her initials peeking out over the rim of the can. Despite the heat, my skin went cold, and my heart thudded in my chest. I fished it from the trash, certain of what I'd find.

  The ivory surface of the kerchief was flecked with blood. Elizabeth's blood.

  Whatever lies she told me, we were running out of time.

The wind ripped across the harbor as I leaned against the deck rail of the ferry, savoring the bite of the chill salt air against my face. Behind me, an unfamiliar Manhattan skyline receded in the distance. So much had changed since I'd last been back, but as the lowslung buildings of the Staten Island waterfront swung into view, a shiver of remembrance traced its way along my spine. I guess the past is never quite as far behind us as it seems.

  The sun dipped below the horizon as I wandered away from the terminal, blanketing the streets of the island in shadow. I pulled Friedlander's pea coat tight around me, my hands thrust deep into its pockets.

  The old tenement was just as I remembered it. The first floor now housed an adult bookstore, its storefront windows papered over from within and its sign declaring XXX VIDEOS BOUGHT AND SOLD, but otherwise the years had failed to leave their mark. The same couldn't be said of the rest of the street. Most of the storefronts sat vacant. The old munitions factory was bricked up and abandoned. On a stoop two doors down, a bedraggled old man slouched unconscious and mouth agape, a bottle of Mad Dog dangling precariously from his hand.

  "Hey, sweet thing, you lookin' for a little company?"