“We could just go straight home,” Trixie suggested as she dipped a French fry into some ketchup. “It’s not that late. We could cancel the motel reservations and head back to Sleepyside.”
Regan inwardly cringed. It wasn’t that he had any desire to remain in this part of the state, but the thought of another five hours in Dan’s car was about as appealing as heading to the dentist’s for a tooth extraction. He thought it was possible he’d choose walking back to Sleepyside if he could. Of course, at some point, they had to drive back. Putting it off ultimately wasn’t going to change anything.
“Or…. we could check in and just chill out for the evening. Watch some bad cable movies. Order a pizza for dinner?”
“A pizza for dinner right after eating fries and chicken strips for a ‘snack’?” Dan shook his head, snorting softly. “I know you’re a college student, Trix, but your eating habits are especially bad.”
“Ha. For one, I’m not this bad at home. And two? I’ve been in your dorm room, Watchdog. I’ve seen all the Ramen noodle wrappers.”
“Those belonged to my roommate.”
“Uh, huh. And you were just letting him dump his trash on your side of the room because you’re such a nice guy and all, right?”
“Exactly.”
Trixie balled up a paper napkin and tossed it across the table at him before turning her attention back to Regan. “What do you want to do? Head home or crash at the motel for the night?”
He realized she was watching him closely as she spoke and he knew she was worried about him. He glanced at his nephew and shrugged. “You got a preference?” he asked.
“I’m good either way,” Dan assured him. “I’m not too tired to drive, so long as Trixie takes the wheel part of the time again, but I also wouldn’t mind a night off.”
Trixie held up her hand to signal to the small diner’s only waitress. “Then let’s stay put,” she decided. “A night off doesn’t sound bad to me at all.”
~~~~~~~~~~
The Motel 6 was, Trixie thought, probably pretty much the same as all Motel 6’s across the country. Nothing to write home about, but nothing to have her feeling the need to hose everything down with a heavy dose of Lysol, either. They had two rooms, side-by-side. After Dan dumped his duffel bag on his bed, he joined her and his uncle in their room. “All right, Trix,” he said flopping down on one of the room’s two chairs. “We’re alone now. Spill it. What was Maggie hissing at you about before she slammed the door in our faces?”
Trixie perched herself on the edge of the bed. She kicked off her loafers and stretched her legs out in front of her before responding. “It was… weird. She warned me that we should assume we’re being watched and that somehow people are even listening in when we talk. She said it wasn’t safe for you guys to be here. And then it got even weirder. She said, and this is a direct quote, ‘follow the photograph.’”
“Huh?”
“Yeah. Those were her words. Follow the photograph. I’m guessing she knows way more about this than she let on, but since she’s convinced someone’s spying on her, she won’t say.”
Regan frowned as he dug around in his bag, looking for the small case with his razor and toothbrush. “I think we have to accept that Mairéad Regan is not of sound mind. We should probably call social services or something.”
Trixie considered this for a long moment, absently chewing on her lower lip. “That’s always possible,” she conceded. “But… I dunno. I would’ve agreed with you up until that last moment. She looked scared, but she didn’t look crazy. And remember, she’s got some doctor who visits her regularly. The one that took her to the hospital when she fell. I’m sure if there was a real problem, he’d insist she get proper help.”
“But… follow the photograph? What the hell does that even mean? How do you ‘follow’ a photograph?”
“Probably she means we need to go find that gravesite,” Trixie explained thoughtfully.
Regan snorted and sat down next to her. “Why? And then what?”
“I have no idea. Regan, your dad left this for you for a reason. It must’ve been important somehow.”
“Let’s just say for a moment that this is all true,” he said slowly. “That Aunt Maggie isn't completely out of her mind. Why would we want to go digging around in something that apparently got her husband and my parents killed? It seems like that would be the last thing we should be doing. It’s not like we don’t have enough trouble to worry about already.”
Trixie regarded him searchingly. “Do you think you could really let it go?” she asked. “I know how much you want to know more about your family.”
“I want to know more, but not if it even possibly puts you in any danger.”
She sighed and pushed her bangs up off her forehead, glancing over at Dan. “What do you think? This involves you, too.”
“Are you asking me how I feel about possibly putting you in any danger?”
“I don’t think-“ Trixie began, before cutting herself off as her cell phone’s tinny ring caught her attention. “It just says ‘private number’,” she murmured as she read the ID. After a brief hesitation, she accepted the call. “Hello?”
“Trixie Belden?”
“Yes. Who is this?” There was a slight pause and then the line went dead. Frowning, she snapped her phone shut. “O…kay. That was weird. He hung up. Or got cut off.”
Dan exchanged a measured look with Regan. “Did he give a name?”
“No. But he said mine, so it wasn’t just a wrong number. I guess we could wait and see if he calls back.”
“If you get any more ‘private number’ calls either don’t answer them or let me,” Regan said.
For a moment, Trixie’s expression told him she wanted to protest his somewhat high-handed order, but instead she gave an abrupt nod. “So,” she said with a forced smile. “Pizza?”
~~~~~~~~~~
Di studied the photograph curiously. “This was it. This and the postcard.”
“Yep,” Trixie replied as she poured two glasses of lemonade and carried them out of the kitchen to the apartment’s small but cozy dining nook. “According to Regan’s Great-Aunt Mairéad, anyway. It’s always possible she was lying.”
“You think she went to the trouble of faking a postcard from Regan’s dad, just in case he showed up some day? Does that seem at all likely?”
“No. I’m reasonably sure Neall Regan really did send that postcard. But it’s possible that he never told Maggie to give it or the photograph to Regan or his sister.”
“But why? Why would she do that? Make it all up, I mean.” Di blew out a breath as she picked up the postcard to look at it again.
“Why would Neall leave just those two items to his kids? No matter how you look at it, it all seems beyond crazy.” Trixie pulled out a chair and dropped down in it, offering her friend a crooked grin. “Have I mentioned lately how bizarre my life really is?”
“I blame it on the water,” Di said, only half-joking. She tapped the photograph with one finger. “Regan and Dan have decided to do nothing about this? That seems odd to me, too, honestly.”
“They’ve decided either Maggie was telling the truth and this is too dangerous to mess around with or she’s certifiable and it’s meaningless and a waste of time. Probably it doesn’t help that since we left her cabin, I’ve been getting these blocked-number calls. I think it must be close to a dozen now, just in the past two days. They never leave a message, and if I answer, they just hang up.”
“Maybe you should get a new number,” Di suggested.
“I’m considering it.”
“And you think these calls are related to your trip upstate?”
“Maybe? Or maybe to those photographs. I still haven’t received my ‘instructions,’ yet.” Trixie sighed as she slumped down in her seat. “This waiting is killing me.”
A sharp knock on the door startled both girls. Trixie glanced at the clock on the wall as she rose to answer it. “I wasn’t expecting anyone else besides you,” she said slowly. “Did you ask anyone over?”
“Nope. I haven’t even spoken to anyone other than my mom this morning.”
Trixie peered through the peephole before unlocking and opening the door. “Watchdog. I thought you’d gone back to the city.”
Dan stepped into the apartment with a quick smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah. I, uh… wanted to talk to you first. Where’s Uncle Bill?”
“At the Manor House. He’s meeting with some people about the construction. Then he’s going with Mr. Wheeler back to that farm they visited, to finalize purchasing three horses. He’s not going to be home until late tonight. You can always call him if you need to talk to him.”
Dan visibly winced. “Actually, I’m glad he’s not here and I'm glad he's busy."
“Because…?”
“Because I’ve thought long and hard about this, and I want your help. I want to find that grave marker.”
Trixie’s brows shot up. “Seriously?”
“Here’s what I’m thinking – and I’m willing to admit maybe I’m just rationalizing it all… but if my mom took me to see that creepy angel several times, then there’s probably no real inherent danger in me finding it again, right? We can’t tell from the photo alone, because of the angle, but I’d like to know who’s buried there and how I might be related. I want to know why it was so important to my mom."
“Okay. I can understand that,” Trixie told him quietly. “But where do we even start? I mean, you don’t remember where it is, and the city’s a pretty big place.”
“Yeah. I know. I called my dad and asked him about it. I thought maybe Mom might’ve shown it to him at some point, too, but he admitted that he was too busy getting high and sleeping around to pay any attention to what he called ‘family stuff.’”
“That’s not gonna help, then.”
“Yeah. But I had an idea. There’s a woman we could go see. My mom sometimes paid her to watch me while she was at work. I don’t remember her full name, but her first name was Angela. She lived in the apartment across the hall from ours. It’s a long shot, but maybe she still lives there. And maybe she’d remember where this angel marker is, because I know on at least one trip to visit it, she came with us. I can remember her putting some flowers down in front of it and telling me she thought it was cool.”
“So you want to go into the city and find this Angela and ask her?”
“Yeah. I was thinking we could both go and then, if we’re really lucky, find the grave. If there’s something special about it… I mean something my grandfather wanted Uncle Bill and my mom to see, I’m hoping between the two of us, maybe we could figure it out.”
Trixie looked over at Di. “What are your plans for the day? You want to come with us?”
“Sorry. I’ve got to go to the city, too, but it’s so I can take some stuff from our house to the apartment we’ve rented. The boys need more clothes and I promised Hannah I’d bring a doll she forgot.”
“Then I guess it’s just you and me, Watchdog. I have to be back by a decent time tonight, though. I’m supposed to be up and out of here early tomorrow to help Geraldine with a big wedding.”
“That won’t be a problem,” Dan assured her. “I have to have you back by a decent time tonight or Uncle Bill will have my hide.”
~~~~~~~~~
The apartment building was old and extremely rundown. The stairwell smelled of stale urine, and graffiti marred the grey, peeling walls. Trixie couldn’t identify all the spray-painted symbols, but she suspected at least some of them were gang-related. She tried not to cringe as she stepped over a discarded hypodermic needle. This was where Dan had spent at least part of his childhood. She thought of the number of times she’d complained about how “poor” her family was and felt her cheeks color in remembrance. In truth, she’d always been very comfortably sheltered and middle-class. Sure, compared to the Wheelers and Lynches, the Beldens were far from “rich,” but there’d never been any time that Trixie could have said she was in any way deprived.
They walked up three flights of steps. The door into the narrow hallway was heavily scarred and dented, and as they stepped through, Trixie suppressed another urge to shudder. The stench increased, now mixed with the smell of something thoroughly rancid. Dan reached out and took her hand in his and she knew this was his way of keeping her especially close.
Apartment 4-C was halfway down the hall. Dan glanced briefly at the door across from it and Trixie realized he was looking at a former home. “Maybe we should just go,” he said, his voice low and flat. “I’m sorry, Trix. It wasn’t this bad when I lived here. At least, I don’t think it was.”
She gave his fingers a small squeeze. “We’ve come this far. We might as well at least knock and see if Angela still lives here or if the current resident knows where we could find her.”
“I’d say Uncle Bill would kill me if he saw where I’ve brought you, but I’m ready to kick my own ass anyway.”
Shaking her head slightly, Trixie reached out and knocked on the door to 4-C. She allowed Dan to tug her backwards, putting himself slightly in front of her.
The woman who answered the door was probably younger than she appeared. Her dirty blond hair hung in listless locks around her narrow face and dark circles stood out under her chocolate brown eyes. She frowned at them severely, rubbing her hand over her bare arm. Even in the dim light, Trixie could see the evidence of track marks.
“Angela?” Dan asked uncertainly.
“Who’s askin’?”
“Uh, I’m Dan. Daniel Mangan? I used to live-“
“Danny? Little Danny?” The woman’s smile was surprisingly warm, altering her appearance dramatically. “Well, look at you!” She stepped back and waved them in. “What the hell are you doing here?”
After a moment’s hesitation, Dan moved forward into the apartment, still tightly clutching Trixie’s hand. “It’s a bit of a strange story,” he explained. “I came looking for you because I’m hoping you can remember something from a long time ago. I’m hoping you can help me find something.”
“Well, well, well. Look what the rat dragged in.”
Dan froze. He knew that voice. He shot Angela a look of disbelief. What was he doing here, in her apartment? Slowly, he turned to face the speaker. “Luke,” he said quietly, drawing in a low breath, as his former gang leader appeared in the doorway to what he presumed was a bedroom.
“Mangan.” There was an open sneer on Luke’s face. “I never took you for this stupid. You actually think you could come here and ask for a favor? After you turned your back on the only family you had?”
Luke’s eyes tracked to Trixie. It took a moment, but then it seemed recognition kicked in. “And you brought this spoiled bitch with you?”
“Obviously, it was a mistake to come,” Dan ground out. “We’ll be leaving now.”
Luke let loose with a laugh that lacked in any friendliness and sent a chill through Dan. He desperately ran through several ideas in his head, discarding each one, as he tried to formulate a plan for a safe exit, at least for Trixie, if not for the both of them.
“Hi, Luke,” Trixie said with a calmness that startled Dan almost as much as Luke’s unexpected presence. “Long time no see. The scar’s new. Who’d you piss off to get that one?”
Luke reached up and ran a finger over the jagged line across his cheekbone. “His name was Jorge, little girl. And he… didn’t live to regret it. Does that shock you? Frighten you?” He moved closer to her, a menacing presence that loomed over her.
Dan quickly stepped forward. It had been a long time since he’d been in a physical fight, but he could feel an adrenaline rush he hoped would work to his advantage. No way he was going to let Luke lay a hand on Trixie.
“Shock me? Frighten me? Not really,” Trixie replied easily, still maintaining a tone that almost seemed to indicate boredom.
Dammit, Trix, Dan thought. Don’t push the guy!
She held up her arm and pointed to a pale mark. “Bullet. From a crazy woman who’d already tried to kill me by running me off the road and into a parked car. I… took her down.”
Which, Dan reflected as he tried not to panic completely, was entirely true. Just not in the way she was maybe hinting.
Luke’s eyes narrowed. He yanked up his stained t-shirt to reveal an ugly mark that Dan guessed was made by a blade that had not only been stabbed into his abdomen, but also twisted. “Bar fight.”
Trixie shrugged and held up her other arm. The long, thin scar she’d acquired while men from Dymar’s security chased her through the preserve was clearly visible, even in the faint sunlight that reached them from the two grimy windows on the back wall. “Running from guys with guns.”
“The 5th Streeters jumped me and left me for dead,” Luke pronounced. He turned and pointed to a reddish scar at his hairline near his ear.
“Oh, I’ve got one of those,” Trixie said dismissively. She pulled back her bangs to show him. “Got clocked with a pistol by some mercenary assassin type.”
“Yeah? Last year I got caught by a Chinese drug dealer. Barely got away after he had me beaten.”
“Eh. I was locked in a car trunk for fourteen hours by someone trying to get rid of me so I couldn’t testify in a court case. And the car was abandoned five miles east of nowhere. In the middle of winter. I nearly froze to death.”
Luke crossed his arms over his chest. “Turf wars with rival gangs. More than I can count.”
“Dangled off a three-story building. Stalked by mobsters. Abducted by a psycho killer with a penchant for sleeping with and murdering teenage girls. Kidnapped by gunner runners. Threatened at gun point so many times, I’m thinking I should contact Guinness.” Trixie cocked her head to one side. “Are we done with trading war stories yet? Because, really, I could go on all night, but I’ve got more pressing concerns right now.”
There was a long moment of absolute silence as Luke stared at Trixie and she returned his gaze with one brow arched in challenge. Dan didn’t know whether to be impressed or furious with her.
And suddenly, Luke was laughing again, this time with genuine amusement. “Damn, Mangan,” he said, shaking his head slightly. “Who’da thought your rich, pampered little girlfriend would have bigger cojones than you?”
Despite everything, Dan felt a pang of indignation at his words. He squelched it with some effort, mentally acknowledging that it was unworthy of him to get upset by such a declaration. He forced a weak smile. “She’s a keeper,” he muttered tightly.
Angela pulled a cigarette from a crumpled packet sitting on her coffee table and lit it. She sat down on the room’s only sofa, a sagging, dark green couch that Dan was pretty sure he remembered from his childhood days. “Chill, Luke. I told ya you could lay low here a coupla days, but that don’t mean yer gonna be starting no fights in my home.”
“Sorry, Ange,” Luke mumbled with an unexpected display of contriteness.
“Danny Boy. You’re looking good. I’m glad. You and yer mom, you never belonged here. I take it life’s treatin’ you better now.”
And wasn’t that the understatement of the year, Dan reflected silently as he gave a quick nod.
"Show some manners, then,” Angela continued. “Like I know yer mom taught ya. Introduce yer girlfriend properly.”
“Uh, Angela, this is Trixie. She’s not m- She’s not from the city.”
“She’s from that rich town where Dan’s uncle lives,” Luke put in.
“Oh, shut it, Lucas,” Angela said mildly. “I might start thinkin’ you was actually jealous of our little Danny.”
“Angela, I know this is going to seem like a strange thing to ask,” Dan said quickly, before Luke lost his temper again, “but do you remember a long time ago when my mother took you and me to visit a grave site? It had this stone angel marker-“
“Yeah, sure. I remember it. Crazy thing. I figure you must’ve had some rich old granddaddy, to afford that.”
Dan blinked, startled. “It was my grandfather’s grave?”
“That’s what yer mom told me. Can’t remember his name anymore.”
“Neall Regan?”
“Mighta been. I dunno. Why?”
“Do you actually remember where it was? I can remember taking the subway to get there, but I don’t know how long it took or even what direction we went in.”
Angela’s eyes narrowed as she sat puffing on her cigarette and thinking. “I don’t remember the exact place,” she said finally, shaking her head. “But it shouldn’t be too hard for ya t’find. You gotta go to Brooklyn. Cypress Hills. The cemetery’s huge. Like a small city itself.”
“That must be Cypress Hills Cemetery,” Trixie said, looking over at Dan. “It’s pretty big. Two-hundred twenty-five acres.”
“And this Mart moment was brought to us by…?”
“Part of a report I did on the Civil War. Ha! Take that, Mr. Billington! I did learn something in American History class.”
“I’m sure he’d be proud,” Dan said dryly. “Angela, thanks. I appreciate you taking the time to see us even though we barged in here unannounced.”
“Sure, Danny. I’d say yer always welcome to drop in, but you’ve done good fer yerself. You should take yer girl and get outta here and don’t ever look back.”
“Do you have something I could write on? I’d like to leave you my phone number. Just… just in case you ever need something.”
Less than ten minutes later, Trixie and Dan were back out on the sidewalk in front of the apartment building. Dan took Trixie’s hand again and pulled her in the direction of the nearest street corner. “For the record? You nearly gave me a heart attack when you got into that pissing contest with Luke. That was brave. Phenomenally stupid… but it was brave of you. Were you even scared at all? You do understand you were confronting a dangerous gang member, right?”
“Are you kidding?” she demanded. “Of course I knew that and of course I was scared. You don’t recognize sheer bravado when you see it? You know that whole fight or flight thing? I don’t know why, but I’m definitely a fight kinda girl. When I get in a bad spot and the best thing to do would be to run away if possible or, at the very least, not tick off someone who’s clearly a threat? That seems to be when I am the least capable of just keeping my head down and keeping my mouth shut.”
Her cell phone rang, cutting off his reply. She bit down on her lip as she read the name on the small screen. “It’s Regan,” she muttered before answering. She grimaced as a nearby driver honked his horn and several others returned the gesture.
“Wildcat? Where are you?”
“Uh… in the city. With Dan.”
There was an extended moment of silence before he spoke again. “I’m going to ask you a question, baby, and I want you to remember that you promised me you wouldn’t ever lie to me.”
“Uh, huh?”
“Does this have anything to do with that photograph my dad left me?”
There were times, Trixie thought, that it was rather inconvenient that he knew her so well. “Yes,” she replied reluctantly.
“Put Dan on the phone.”
“Regan, I-“
“Just put him on the phone, Wildcat.”
She held her cell out to Dan. “Sorry,” she whispered as he took it and put it up to his ear.
“Hey, Uncle Bill.”
“Where are you? Exactly.”
“In my old neighborhood.”
“You took Trixie there?”
“Yeah. I – uh, look. I didn’t think it was this bad. I don’t remember it being quite this bad, anyway. But we’re okay. And we’re leaving now.” He paused and listened. “Uncle Bill?” he asked finally, as the quiet stretched on to an uncomfortable length.
“I can’t decide if your death should be quick and bloody or slow and painful,” Regan said in a calm, conversational tone that did nothing to fool his nephew. Dan knew he was furious. “How far are you from your campus?”
“From school? Uh… about 45 minutes?”
“Driving?”
“No. We left my car there. I didn’t know what parking would be like.”
“So you took the subway?”
“Yeah.”
“Take a cab back. I’ll meet you there.”
“Uncle Bill, there’s no reason for you to come all the way to the city. We can go back and get my car and – “
“And what? Did you find the grave site?”
“Well, no. But we know where it is now. At least, we know the cemetery.”
“And were you planning to go there first, before returning to Sleepyside?”
“We hadn’t actually discussed that yet.”
“Meet me at your dorm. We’ll decide the next step then. Put Trixie back on.”
Trixie took the phone, not entirely sure what to expect. “Regan?”
“Have you got any more unknown calls?”
“Not since last night.”
“Good. I’m going to meet you and Dan at his dorm, all right? Don’t do anything else until I get there, Wildcat. I mean it.”
“I really don’t like being ordered around,” she ground out. “And lately, there’s been an awful lot of that going on from an awful lot of people.”
“People who love you and want you safe. We still don’t know who sent those photographs or what they want.”
“That doesn’t mean I’m okay with being treated like a small child.”
“Wildcat… please. Go back to the dorm and wait for me there and if you insist, we’ll go find this damn grave together, all right?”
“We talked to a woman Dan used to know. She was his babysitter. She’s the one who told us the cemetery and she says your sister said your dad’s the one buried there.”
“I guess that’s possible. Maybe Kalin did find where our dad’s buried, though I can’t see how our mother wouldn’t be there, if that was the case. I can be in the city in about an hour and a half. Have you had lunch yet?”
“No.”
“Then get something to eat and meet me there. And be careful, baby. Just… be careful. Please.”
Regan inwardly cringed. It wasn’t that he had any desire to remain in this part of the state, but the thought of another five hours in Dan’s car was about as appealing as heading to the dentist’s for a tooth extraction. He thought it was possible he’d choose walking back to Sleepyside if he could. Of course, at some point, they had to drive back. Putting it off ultimately wasn’t going to change anything.
“Or…. we could check in and just chill out for the evening. Watch some bad cable movies. Order a pizza for dinner?”
“A pizza for dinner right after eating fries and chicken strips for a ‘snack’?” Dan shook his head, snorting softly. “I know you’re a college student, Trix, but your eating habits are especially bad.”
“Ha. For one, I’m not this bad at home. And two? I’ve been in your dorm room, Watchdog. I’ve seen all the Ramen noodle wrappers.”
“Those belonged to my roommate.”
“Uh, huh. And you were just letting him dump his trash on your side of the room because you’re such a nice guy and all, right?”
“Exactly.”
Trixie balled up a paper napkin and tossed it across the table at him before turning her attention back to Regan. “What do you want to do? Head home or crash at the motel for the night?”
He realized she was watching him closely as she spoke and he knew she was worried about him. He glanced at his nephew and shrugged. “You got a preference?” he asked.
“I’m good either way,” Dan assured him. “I’m not too tired to drive, so long as Trixie takes the wheel part of the time again, but I also wouldn’t mind a night off.”
Trixie held up her hand to signal to the small diner’s only waitress. “Then let’s stay put,” she decided. “A night off doesn’t sound bad to me at all.”
~~~~~~~~~~
The Motel 6 was, Trixie thought, probably pretty much the same as all Motel 6’s across the country. Nothing to write home about, but nothing to have her feeling the need to hose everything down with a heavy dose of Lysol, either. They had two rooms, side-by-side. After Dan dumped his duffel bag on his bed, he joined her and his uncle in their room. “All right, Trix,” he said flopping down on one of the room’s two chairs. “We’re alone now. Spill it. What was Maggie hissing at you about before she slammed the door in our faces?”
Trixie perched herself on the edge of the bed. She kicked off her loafers and stretched her legs out in front of her before responding. “It was… weird. She warned me that we should assume we’re being watched and that somehow people are even listening in when we talk. She said it wasn’t safe for you guys to be here. And then it got even weirder. She said, and this is a direct quote, ‘follow the photograph.’”
“Huh?”
“Yeah. Those were her words. Follow the photograph. I’m guessing she knows way more about this than she let on, but since she’s convinced someone’s spying on her, she won’t say.”
Regan frowned as he dug around in his bag, looking for the small case with his razor and toothbrush. “I think we have to accept that Mairéad Regan is not of sound mind. We should probably call social services or something.”
Trixie considered this for a long moment, absently chewing on her lower lip. “That’s always possible,” she conceded. “But… I dunno. I would’ve agreed with you up until that last moment. She looked scared, but she didn’t look crazy. And remember, she’s got some doctor who visits her regularly. The one that took her to the hospital when she fell. I’m sure if there was a real problem, he’d insist she get proper help.”
“But… follow the photograph? What the hell does that even mean? How do you ‘follow’ a photograph?”
“Probably she means we need to go find that gravesite,” Trixie explained thoughtfully.
Regan snorted and sat down next to her. “Why? And then what?”
“I have no idea. Regan, your dad left this for you for a reason. It must’ve been important somehow.”
“Let’s just say for a moment that this is all true,” he said slowly. “That Aunt Maggie isn't completely out of her mind. Why would we want to go digging around in something that apparently got her husband and my parents killed? It seems like that would be the last thing we should be doing. It’s not like we don’t have enough trouble to worry about already.”
Trixie regarded him searchingly. “Do you think you could really let it go?” she asked. “I know how much you want to know more about your family.”
“I want to know more, but not if it even possibly puts you in any danger.”
She sighed and pushed her bangs up off her forehead, glancing over at Dan. “What do you think? This involves you, too.”
“Are you asking me how I feel about possibly putting you in any danger?”
“I don’t think-“ Trixie began, before cutting herself off as her cell phone’s tinny ring caught her attention. “It just says ‘private number’,” she murmured as she read the ID. After a brief hesitation, she accepted the call. “Hello?”
“Trixie Belden?”
“Yes. Who is this?” There was a slight pause and then the line went dead. Frowning, she snapped her phone shut. “O…kay. That was weird. He hung up. Or got cut off.”
Dan exchanged a measured look with Regan. “Did he give a name?”
“No. But he said mine, so it wasn’t just a wrong number. I guess we could wait and see if he calls back.”
“If you get any more ‘private number’ calls either don’t answer them or let me,” Regan said.
For a moment, Trixie’s expression told him she wanted to protest his somewhat high-handed order, but instead she gave an abrupt nod. “So,” she said with a forced smile. “Pizza?”
~~~~~~~~~~
Di studied the photograph curiously. “This was it. This and the postcard.”
“Yep,” Trixie replied as she poured two glasses of lemonade and carried them out of the kitchen to the apartment’s small but cozy dining nook. “According to Regan’s Great-Aunt Mairéad, anyway. It’s always possible she was lying.”
“You think she went to the trouble of faking a postcard from Regan’s dad, just in case he showed up some day? Does that seem at all likely?”
“No. I’m reasonably sure Neall Regan really did send that postcard. But it’s possible that he never told Maggie to give it or the photograph to Regan or his sister.”
“But why? Why would she do that? Make it all up, I mean.” Di blew out a breath as she picked up the postcard to look at it again.
“Why would Neall leave just those two items to his kids? No matter how you look at it, it all seems beyond crazy.” Trixie pulled out a chair and dropped down in it, offering her friend a crooked grin. “Have I mentioned lately how bizarre my life really is?”
“I blame it on the water,” Di said, only half-joking. She tapped the photograph with one finger. “Regan and Dan have decided to do nothing about this? That seems odd to me, too, honestly.”
“They’ve decided either Maggie was telling the truth and this is too dangerous to mess around with or she’s certifiable and it’s meaningless and a waste of time. Probably it doesn’t help that since we left her cabin, I’ve been getting these blocked-number calls. I think it must be close to a dozen now, just in the past two days. They never leave a message, and if I answer, they just hang up.”
“Maybe you should get a new number,” Di suggested.
“I’m considering it.”
“And you think these calls are related to your trip upstate?”
“Maybe? Or maybe to those photographs. I still haven’t received my ‘instructions,’ yet.” Trixie sighed as she slumped down in her seat. “This waiting is killing me.”
A sharp knock on the door startled both girls. Trixie glanced at the clock on the wall as she rose to answer it. “I wasn’t expecting anyone else besides you,” she said slowly. “Did you ask anyone over?”
“Nope. I haven’t even spoken to anyone other than my mom this morning.”
Trixie peered through the peephole before unlocking and opening the door. “Watchdog. I thought you’d gone back to the city.”
Dan stepped into the apartment with a quick smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah. I, uh… wanted to talk to you first. Where’s Uncle Bill?”
“At the Manor House. He’s meeting with some people about the construction. Then he’s going with Mr. Wheeler back to that farm they visited, to finalize purchasing three horses. He’s not going to be home until late tonight. You can always call him if you need to talk to him.”
Dan visibly winced. “Actually, I’m glad he’s not here and I'm glad he's busy."
“Because…?”
“Because I’ve thought long and hard about this, and I want your help. I want to find that grave marker.”
Trixie’s brows shot up. “Seriously?”
“Here’s what I’m thinking – and I’m willing to admit maybe I’m just rationalizing it all… but if my mom took me to see that creepy angel several times, then there’s probably no real inherent danger in me finding it again, right? We can’t tell from the photo alone, because of the angle, but I’d like to know who’s buried there and how I might be related. I want to know why it was so important to my mom."
“Okay. I can understand that,” Trixie told him quietly. “But where do we even start? I mean, you don’t remember where it is, and the city’s a pretty big place.”
“Yeah. I know. I called my dad and asked him about it. I thought maybe Mom might’ve shown it to him at some point, too, but he admitted that he was too busy getting high and sleeping around to pay any attention to what he called ‘family stuff.’”
“That’s not gonna help, then.”
“Yeah. But I had an idea. There’s a woman we could go see. My mom sometimes paid her to watch me while she was at work. I don’t remember her full name, but her first name was Angela. She lived in the apartment across the hall from ours. It’s a long shot, but maybe she still lives there. And maybe she’d remember where this angel marker is, because I know on at least one trip to visit it, she came with us. I can remember her putting some flowers down in front of it and telling me she thought it was cool.”
“So you want to go into the city and find this Angela and ask her?”
“Yeah. I was thinking we could both go and then, if we’re really lucky, find the grave. If there’s something special about it… I mean something my grandfather wanted Uncle Bill and my mom to see, I’m hoping between the two of us, maybe we could figure it out.”
Trixie looked over at Di. “What are your plans for the day? You want to come with us?”
“Sorry. I’ve got to go to the city, too, but it’s so I can take some stuff from our house to the apartment we’ve rented. The boys need more clothes and I promised Hannah I’d bring a doll she forgot.”
“Then I guess it’s just you and me, Watchdog. I have to be back by a decent time tonight, though. I’m supposed to be up and out of here early tomorrow to help Geraldine with a big wedding.”
“That won’t be a problem,” Dan assured her. “I have to have you back by a decent time tonight or Uncle Bill will have my hide.”
~~~~~~~~~
The apartment building was old and extremely rundown. The stairwell smelled of stale urine, and graffiti marred the grey, peeling walls. Trixie couldn’t identify all the spray-painted symbols, but she suspected at least some of them were gang-related. She tried not to cringe as she stepped over a discarded hypodermic needle. This was where Dan had spent at least part of his childhood. She thought of the number of times she’d complained about how “poor” her family was and felt her cheeks color in remembrance. In truth, she’d always been very comfortably sheltered and middle-class. Sure, compared to the Wheelers and Lynches, the Beldens were far from “rich,” but there’d never been any time that Trixie could have said she was in any way deprived.
They walked up three flights of steps. The door into the narrow hallway was heavily scarred and dented, and as they stepped through, Trixie suppressed another urge to shudder. The stench increased, now mixed with the smell of something thoroughly rancid. Dan reached out and took her hand in his and she knew this was his way of keeping her especially close.
Apartment 4-C was halfway down the hall. Dan glanced briefly at the door across from it and Trixie realized he was looking at a former home. “Maybe we should just go,” he said, his voice low and flat. “I’m sorry, Trix. It wasn’t this bad when I lived here. At least, I don’t think it was.”
She gave his fingers a small squeeze. “We’ve come this far. We might as well at least knock and see if Angela still lives here or if the current resident knows where we could find her.”
“I’d say Uncle Bill would kill me if he saw where I’ve brought you, but I’m ready to kick my own ass anyway.”
Shaking her head slightly, Trixie reached out and knocked on the door to 4-C. She allowed Dan to tug her backwards, putting himself slightly in front of her.
The woman who answered the door was probably younger than she appeared. Her dirty blond hair hung in listless locks around her narrow face and dark circles stood out under her chocolate brown eyes. She frowned at them severely, rubbing her hand over her bare arm. Even in the dim light, Trixie could see the evidence of track marks.
“Angela?” Dan asked uncertainly.
“Who’s askin’?”
“Uh, I’m Dan. Daniel Mangan? I used to live-“
“Danny? Little Danny?” The woman’s smile was surprisingly warm, altering her appearance dramatically. “Well, look at you!” She stepped back and waved them in. “What the hell are you doing here?”
After a moment’s hesitation, Dan moved forward into the apartment, still tightly clutching Trixie’s hand. “It’s a bit of a strange story,” he explained. “I came looking for you because I’m hoping you can remember something from a long time ago. I’m hoping you can help me find something.”
“Well, well, well. Look what the rat dragged in.”
Dan froze. He knew that voice. He shot Angela a look of disbelief. What was he doing here, in her apartment? Slowly, he turned to face the speaker. “Luke,” he said quietly, drawing in a low breath, as his former gang leader appeared in the doorway to what he presumed was a bedroom.
“Mangan.” There was an open sneer on Luke’s face. “I never took you for this stupid. You actually think you could come here and ask for a favor? After you turned your back on the only family you had?”
Luke’s eyes tracked to Trixie. It took a moment, but then it seemed recognition kicked in. “And you brought this spoiled bitch with you?”
“Obviously, it was a mistake to come,” Dan ground out. “We’ll be leaving now.”
Luke let loose with a laugh that lacked in any friendliness and sent a chill through Dan. He desperately ran through several ideas in his head, discarding each one, as he tried to formulate a plan for a safe exit, at least for Trixie, if not for the both of them.
“Hi, Luke,” Trixie said with a calmness that startled Dan almost as much as Luke’s unexpected presence. “Long time no see. The scar’s new. Who’d you piss off to get that one?”
Luke reached up and ran a finger over the jagged line across his cheekbone. “His name was Jorge, little girl. And he… didn’t live to regret it. Does that shock you? Frighten you?” He moved closer to her, a menacing presence that loomed over her.
Dan quickly stepped forward. It had been a long time since he’d been in a physical fight, but he could feel an adrenaline rush he hoped would work to his advantage. No way he was going to let Luke lay a hand on Trixie.
“Shock me? Frighten me? Not really,” Trixie replied easily, still maintaining a tone that almost seemed to indicate boredom.
Dammit, Trix, Dan thought. Don’t push the guy!
She held up her arm and pointed to a pale mark. “Bullet. From a crazy woman who’d already tried to kill me by running me off the road and into a parked car. I… took her down.”
Which, Dan reflected as he tried not to panic completely, was entirely true. Just not in the way she was maybe hinting.
Luke’s eyes narrowed. He yanked up his stained t-shirt to reveal an ugly mark that Dan guessed was made by a blade that had not only been stabbed into his abdomen, but also twisted. “Bar fight.”
Trixie shrugged and held up her other arm. The long, thin scar she’d acquired while men from Dymar’s security chased her through the preserve was clearly visible, even in the faint sunlight that reached them from the two grimy windows on the back wall. “Running from guys with guns.”
“The 5th Streeters jumped me and left me for dead,” Luke pronounced. He turned and pointed to a reddish scar at his hairline near his ear.
“Oh, I’ve got one of those,” Trixie said dismissively. She pulled back her bangs to show him. “Got clocked with a pistol by some mercenary assassin type.”
“Yeah? Last year I got caught by a Chinese drug dealer. Barely got away after he had me beaten.”
“Eh. I was locked in a car trunk for fourteen hours by someone trying to get rid of me so I couldn’t testify in a court case. And the car was abandoned five miles east of nowhere. In the middle of winter. I nearly froze to death.”
Luke crossed his arms over his chest. “Turf wars with rival gangs. More than I can count.”
“Dangled off a three-story building. Stalked by mobsters. Abducted by a psycho killer with a penchant for sleeping with and murdering teenage girls. Kidnapped by gunner runners. Threatened at gun point so many times, I’m thinking I should contact Guinness.” Trixie cocked her head to one side. “Are we done with trading war stories yet? Because, really, I could go on all night, but I’ve got more pressing concerns right now.”
There was a long moment of absolute silence as Luke stared at Trixie and she returned his gaze with one brow arched in challenge. Dan didn’t know whether to be impressed or furious with her.
And suddenly, Luke was laughing again, this time with genuine amusement. “Damn, Mangan,” he said, shaking his head slightly. “Who’da thought your rich, pampered little girlfriend would have bigger cojones than you?”
Despite everything, Dan felt a pang of indignation at his words. He squelched it with some effort, mentally acknowledging that it was unworthy of him to get upset by such a declaration. He forced a weak smile. “She’s a keeper,” he muttered tightly.
Angela pulled a cigarette from a crumpled packet sitting on her coffee table and lit it. She sat down on the room’s only sofa, a sagging, dark green couch that Dan was pretty sure he remembered from his childhood days. “Chill, Luke. I told ya you could lay low here a coupla days, but that don’t mean yer gonna be starting no fights in my home.”
“Sorry, Ange,” Luke mumbled with an unexpected display of contriteness.
“Danny Boy. You’re looking good. I’m glad. You and yer mom, you never belonged here. I take it life’s treatin’ you better now.”
And wasn’t that the understatement of the year, Dan reflected silently as he gave a quick nod.
"Show some manners, then,” Angela continued. “Like I know yer mom taught ya. Introduce yer girlfriend properly.”
“Uh, Angela, this is Trixie. She’s not m- She’s not from the city.”
“She’s from that rich town where Dan’s uncle lives,” Luke put in.
“Oh, shut it, Lucas,” Angela said mildly. “I might start thinkin’ you was actually jealous of our little Danny.”
“Angela, I know this is going to seem like a strange thing to ask,” Dan said quickly, before Luke lost his temper again, “but do you remember a long time ago when my mother took you and me to visit a grave site? It had this stone angel marker-“
“Yeah, sure. I remember it. Crazy thing. I figure you must’ve had some rich old granddaddy, to afford that.”
Dan blinked, startled. “It was my grandfather’s grave?”
“That’s what yer mom told me. Can’t remember his name anymore.”
“Neall Regan?”
“Mighta been. I dunno. Why?”
“Do you actually remember where it was? I can remember taking the subway to get there, but I don’t know how long it took or even what direction we went in.”
Angela’s eyes narrowed as she sat puffing on her cigarette and thinking. “I don’t remember the exact place,” she said finally, shaking her head. “But it shouldn’t be too hard for ya t’find. You gotta go to Brooklyn. Cypress Hills. The cemetery’s huge. Like a small city itself.”
“That must be Cypress Hills Cemetery,” Trixie said, looking over at Dan. “It’s pretty big. Two-hundred twenty-five acres.”
“And this Mart moment was brought to us by…?”
“Part of a report I did on the Civil War. Ha! Take that, Mr. Billington! I did learn something in American History class.”
“I’m sure he’d be proud,” Dan said dryly. “Angela, thanks. I appreciate you taking the time to see us even though we barged in here unannounced.”
“Sure, Danny. I’d say yer always welcome to drop in, but you’ve done good fer yerself. You should take yer girl and get outta here and don’t ever look back.”
“Do you have something I could write on? I’d like to leave you my phone number. Just… just in case you ever need something.”
Less than ten minutes later, Trixie and Dan were back out on the sidewalk in front of the apartment building. Dan took Trixie’s hand again and pulled her in the direction of the nearest street corner. “For the record? You nearly gave me a heart attack when you got into that pissing contest with Luke. That was brave. Phenomenally stupid… but it was brave of you. Were you even scared at all? You do understand you were confronting a dangerous gang member, right?”
“Are you kidding?” she demanded. “Of course I knew that and of course I was scared. You don’t recognize sheer bravado when you see it? You know that whole fight or flight thing? I don’t know why, but I’m definitely a fight kinda girl. When I get in a bad spot and the best thing to do would be to run away if possible or, at the very least, not tick off someone who’s clearly a threat? That seems to be when I am the least capable of just keeping my head down and keeping my mouth shut.”
Her cell phone rang, cutting off his reply. She bit down on her lip as she read the name on the small screen. “It’s Regan,” she muttered before answering. She grimaced as a nearby driver honked his horn and several others returned the gesture.
“Wildcat? Where are you?”
“Uh… in the city. With Dan.”
There was an extended moment of silence before he spoke again. “I’m going to ask you a question, baby, and I want you to remember that you promised me you wouldn’t ever lie to me.”
“Uh, huh?”
“Does this have anything to do with that photograph my dad left me?”
There were times, Trixie thought, that it was rather inconvenient that he knew her so well. “Yes,” she replied reluctantly.
“Put Dan on the phone.”
“Regan, I-“
“Just put him on the phone, Wildcat.”
She held her cell out to Dan. “Sorry,” she whispered as he took it and put it up to his ear.
“Hey, Uncle Bill.”
“Where are you? Exactly.”
“In my old neighborhood.”
“You took Trixie there?”
“Yeah. I – uh, look. I didn’t think it was this bad. I don’t remember it being quite this bad, anyway. But we’re okay. And we’re leaving now.” He paused and listened. “Uncle Bill?” he asked finally, as the quiet stretched on to an uncomfortable length.
“I can’t decide if your death should be quick and bloody or slow and painful,” Regan said in a calm, conversational tone that did nothing to fool his nephew. Dan knew he was furious. “How far are you from your campus?”
“From school? Uh… about 45 minutes?”
“Driving?”
“No. We left my car there. I didn’t know what parking would be like.”
“So you took the subway?”
“Yeah.”
“Take a cab back. I’ll meet you there.”
“Uncle Bill, there’s no reason for you to come all the way to the city. We can go back and get my car and – “
“And what? Did you find the grave site?”
“Well, no. But we know where it is now. At least, we know the cemetery.”
“And were you planning to go there first, before returning to Sleepyside?”
“We hadn’t actually discussed that yet.”
“Meet me at your dorm. We’ll decide the next step then. Put Trixie back on.”
Trixie took the phone, not entirely sure what to expect. “Regan?”
“Have you got any more unknown calls?”
“Not since last night.”
“Good. I’m going to meet you and Dan at his dorm, all right? Don’t do anything else until I get there, Wildcat. I mean it.”
“I really don’t like being ordered around,” she ground out. “And lately, there’s been an awful lot of that going on from an awful lot of people.”
“People who love you and want you safe. We still don’t know who sent those photographs or what they want.”
“That doesn’t mean I’m okay with being treated like a small child.”
“Wildcat… please. Go back to the dorm and wait for me there and if you insist, we’ll go find this damn grave together, all right?”
“We talked to a woman Dan used to know. She was his babysitter. She’s the one who told us the cemetery and she says your sister said your dad’s the one buried there.”
“I guess that’s possible. Maybe Kalin did find where our dad’s buried, though I can’t see how our mother wouldn’t be there, if that was the case. I can be in the city in about an hour and a half. Have you had lunch yet?”
“No.”
“Then get something to eat and meet me there. And be careful, baby. Just… be careful. Please.”