NINE

“Has she said anything yet?”

Detective Jessica Drew looked up from her stack of crime scene photos to the break room. Just visible through the slats of the lowered blinds, the only surviving victim of the shooting was staring blankly at the wall.

Jessica grimaced. “No. Poor thing. Doctors said she’s unharmed except for some self-inflicted scratches. She’s in shock.” The detective hadn’t yet been inside the scene of the homicide, but her partner had personally retrieved the girl and accompanied her to the hospital in the ambulance. He’d been unsuccessfully trying to get the girl to open up since she’d been cleared to return for questioning. As she watched, her partner – David Lewinski – straightened from his crouch in front of her, meeting her eyes with a shake of her head.

The young officer that had paused beside her desk to question her looked exhausted. Jessica looked over his face; drawn and pale, he looked as if he’d just come from a battlefield. Jessica was willing to bet he’d been one of the first responders. “Luca, is it?” she looked at his name badge.

Luca straightened under her scrutiny. “Yes, Detective. I’m…new.” He admitted quietly.

“First call?” She asked sympathetically.

Luca swallowed thickly, eyes going to the hunched form of the girl. “Are they all- are they all like that?” he whispered, gaze flickering to the photo she was holding. The bodies of three of the eight victims were splayed on the once-white carpet, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. The wounds that had killed them were barely visible. This had been an execution. Whoever had done it, they were not unfamiliar with their craft. Jessica had no idea which mob group was responsible – there hadn’t been such a targeted and involved attack in her division before – usually the criminal underground stuck to drive-by shootings or stabbings. Messy, quick, often unsuccessful.

Jessica patted him on the shoulder, trying to muster a smile. “No. And we won’t rest till we catch these bastards.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He smiled tightly. “Uh, excuse me.”

Jessica nodded him off, replacing the photo to the file, and closing it, tucking it under her arm as she headed towards the break room. David met her at the door, and she waited for him patiently as he closed the door and leant against it with a tired groan. “I haven’t gotten a thing out of her.”

Jessica frowned. “Not even at the scene?”

David shook his head, turning to look at the girl. The nine-year-old was staring at the mug of water someone had left for her as if she was looking through it. “She didn’t even see me, Jess. She was catatonic. I don’t even know her name.”

Jessica shook her file slightly. “Well, I do.”

David perked up slightly. “Oh, thank god.”

“Yeah. One of their neighbours gave names, ages. Dad immigrated from Egypt, worked his way to owning his own construction company. Mom was a social worker. Kids were all in school, the eldest two a few months away from graduating college. They were good folk. Friendly. The neighbours seemed really torn up about it.” Jessica’s lips twisted. “Kept saying they should have done something earlier, that they should have been suspicious about the noises.”

David hummed. “Well, give it your best shot. Can I have the IDs?” Jessica nodded, handing her partner the family’s details, stepping around him to let herself into the break room.

The girl didn’t react to her entrance, eyes fixed blankly on the table. With a pang, Jessica realised the girl had the same green eyes as her mother. Poor thing. A sudden anger filled her. She didn’t deserve the hand she had been dealt. Nine years old, and all alone. When she had been found, the officers on the scene had reported she’d been kneeling next to her mother, unspeaking, unseeing, and covered in pine-needles.

Jessica took a seat at the table, setting down her folder. She leant forwards slightly, trying to catch the girl’s eye.

“Alice?”

Alice Tybalt-Nefertari twitched, looking up to meet her gaze with wide eyes. She was in a set of ill-fitting hospital pyjamas: her old pyjamas had been taken into evidence. Jessica had already seen the pink and purple spotted cotton set, splattered in macabre red. Someone had given her an NYPD jacket, the standard issue garment dwarfing her frame. Jessica could see more of her mother now, in the girl’s slightly upturned button nose, and her high cheekbones. Her father was there too, in her thick curly hair, hooded eyes and deep skin.

“My name is Jessica. I’m Detective Lewinski’s partner.” Jessica said gently. Alice didn’t respond, though her eyes went to the precinct beyond. “Alice, do you remember what happened tonight?” This time, there was a flash of wild, violent emotion in the girl’s gaze, and Jessica watched her shiver. “Do you know who was in your house?” Alice stayed quiet. “Alice, how many people were in your house?” Jessica tried again.

There was no response from the girl in front of her. Jessica resisted the urge to sigh, and instead nudged the mug of water closer to the girl. “I’m going to go get you something to eat, okay?”

She got up, leaving the girl sitting where she was. As she exited the break room, one of her officers waved at her, beckoning her over. She headed towards the red-headed woman, who had a phone to her ear. Rose Gilmore was a transfer from a precinct over, but had slotted into the workplace easily, and Jessica was privately glad to have the level-headed woman working the case with her. Jessica waited beside the woman’s desk for Rose to finish her call.

“Yes, I understand Mrs. Parker. Yes. Yes, but legally it is an issue. I’m sorry.” Rose frowned, obviously upset for whoever she was on the phone with. “I understand you knew the family, but you are not a legal guardian, a relative, nor are you a godparent. It’s out of my hands, I’m sorry. After she’s in the system, you can look at fostering or adoption, but right now, it’s not an option. Okay. Yes. Alright. Try and have a happy Christmas.” Jessica winced at the sign off, and Rose slapped a hand to her forehead as she returned the phone to its cradle. “Oh Jesus.” She cursed her own lack of tact. “Sorry, Detective. That was the neighbours. They want to take the girl in.”

Jessica frowned. “Yeah, uniforms were saying they were upset. Family friends?”

Rose sighed. “Most likely.” She handed Jessica a printed Children’s Services form. “I just got her sorted for the Brooklyn OHEL home. They’re sending someone to get her soon. They’re aware she may need to come back and forth for a while.”

Jessica looked over the form. “I’ll go let her know.” It wouldn’t be easy, and Jessica wasn’t even sure the girl would process the information. She headed back to the room, collecting a blueberry muffin on the way.

Alice was sitting exactly where she had left her, but the mug was empty. Jessica set the muffin in front of the girl with a small smile. “You should eat something, Alice.” It was nearing daybreak, and Jessica knew that even though the girl probably didn’t eat until the sun had risen, a little sugar and some carbs might help jolt her out of her shock. Mechanically, Alice picked up the muffin, breaking a small piece off and putting the cake in her mouth and chewing before falling still again. “Alice, someone is coming to take you to a place where you’re going to stay for a little while.”

“I want to go home.” Alice’s voice was quiet, wobbly with her youth and the tears building in her eyes. “I can stay at home.”

“Alice, honey, that isn’t possible.” Jessica said soothingly. The girl’s tears spilled over, running down her cheeks. “But maybe we can see about getting some of your things. Just not right now.” The nine-year-old looked away from her, sniffling. Jessica stood up. “Would you like me to come with you in the car? Or I can get-”

“You.” Alice said quietly.

Jessica paused at the door. “Okay. I’ll be back soon.” With a small smile, she left.

“Detective Drew?” Luca, the young officer from earlier, called her name across the precinct. He was at the front desk, and looked slightly less haunted than he had earlier. She nodded, heading towards the glass partition. On the other side of the glass, a tall man with dark hair and a hooked nose was leaning against the counter, smiling patiently. “He’s here from Brooklyn OHEL.” Luca informed her quietly.

Jessica looked the man up and down. He was dressed casually, and as their eyes met, his face morphed into something sympathetic. “I understand the girl has been here all night.” He said, voice roughed by a hint of an unfamiliar accent.

“Alice.” Jessica said slowly.

The man nodded, wincing slightly. “Forgive me. Yes, Alice. I’ve had a long day – well, night.”

Jessica sighed in commiseration. “I definitely get that, Mr…?”

He bowed his head slightly. “Mr. Lee. But please, call me Frank.” Jessica nodded to Luca, and the officer opened the door for the man to step through.

“We’ve tried to get her to sleep and eat, but she just seems to be shut down.” Jessica said over her shoulder to the social worker. At his lack of response she turned, catching him staring at the board of crime scene photographs. “Yeah… it was brutal.”

Frank snapped his attention away with an odd smile. “It is understandable about her refusal to eat. Has she spoken about anything? How much did she see?” he asked curiously.

Jessica shook her head. “We’re unsure. She hasn’t said much of anything. Still in shock – according to the doctor.” She gave him a tight smile. “I’ll go get her. We can leave out the back, just so she doesn’t have to see any of it.” Frank nodded easily, turning back to observe the busy workings of the precinct as she ducked back into the break room. “Alice?” The girl turned to her, muffin still clutched loosely in her grip. “It’s time to go. A nice man’s come to drive us to the place you’ll be staying, okay?”

Alice looked at the woman who had been her most constant companion since she’d arrived at the station. Detective Drew, the others called her, but she’d told Alice to call her Jessica. She did as the woman asked; she had been taught to listen to the adults in charge. Her mom always said-

The thought of her mom sent another paralysing wave of horror and sorrow through her. Her eyes stung, throat tightening reflexively. She wanted to cry, but for the first time in her life, Alice thought she might have no tears left. She felt dry inside. Dry and cold; like the small skull of a squirrel her and Peter had once found in the park. The bone had been clean and white, the earth around it undisturbed. It was almost as if the squirrel had just laid down and melted away. Alice wished she could do the same.

Jessica led her by the hand from the break room. The sudden flux of noise and activity made her head hurt, and she dropped her gaze to the floor, to the blue and green flooring, and tried to count the steps she was taking in her head. She couldn’t get past eight.

The car was waiting at the curb, and the frigid night air made her start to shiver, in the short walk towards the black Subaru. The still snow-covered landscape and the Christmas lights and decorations looked cartoonish in their garishness. Alice felt like the world should be in black and white, like the sad movies her sister used to-

“Alice?” Jessica was looking at her, and Alice realised she’d stopped on the sidewalk, staring at the open car door. “Come on, sweetie.”

“We need to get a move on.” The man who had come to get her sounded impatient, and Alice looked at him. He met her gaze with a blank look, face unreadable. Something prickled up and down her spine, and she took an involuntary step back. “Come on.” He snapped.

Jessica turned to glare at him. “Mr. Lee-!” He was already slamming the driver’s seat shut. “What’s his fucking problem.” The detective muttered under her breath, but Alice heard her. She didn’t want to cause any other problems, so she got in the car, Jessica getting into the passenger seat diagonally in front of her.

Mr. Lee pulled away from the curb with a squeal of tires that made Jessica scowl again. Alice turned to look out of the window. After a few minutes of the city passing by in a series of neon blurs, she realised that Mr. Lee hadn’t put the child lock on her door. Another weird tingle went down her back, like a physical sensation. Her mom always put the child lock down. Always-

“Frank, I thought OHEL was on 14^th.” Jessica said, squinting out of one of the windows.

“I’m taking a shortcut.” Mr. Lee’s voice was placid, but when Alice looked at him through the rear-view mirror, there was a gleam in his eyes that made her shiver.

“We just passed 14^th.” Jessica turned slowly to look at Frank, and Alice watched as the brunette woman’s hands went slowly to her holster. “Where are-”

Mr. Lee reached into the centre console and drew out a handgun. Alice screamed, Jessica opened her mouth to yell, and Mr. Lee fired a single shot. Alice was still screaming when Jessica slumped back against the window, a fine spray of red obscuring the glass around her.

Mr. Lee met her eyes in the rear-view mirror again, and Alice felt her world slow down to a crawl.

As the man – who was not a social worker – began to turn in his seat, mouth twisting into a terrifying snarl, Alice undid her seatbelt and threw open the car door. The car was still moving, and she hit the cement of the road on her hands and knees with excruciating force. The squealing of breaks made her get up as the car began to reverse back down the quiet street towards her.

Alice ran.

She stumbled across the road, narrowly missing a taxicab which honked at her, forcing her aching legs to go as fast as they could, heading towards the dark alley. She had been told never to go out by herself at night. She had been told to avoid strangers. She had been told not to go down streets with no lighting. But right then, whatever nightmares she had held in her little head, the skulking shadows in the corners of alleyways, the bad people with reaching fingers, the cautionary tales fizzled into nothing in light of the very real monster behind her.

She ran, leaping over garbage and debris, almost slipping on filthy ice and snow being melted by the steaming pipes spewing smoke and pollution into the narrow passageways. She ran and ran, turning down the twisting and interlocked backstreets of New York until she couldn’t run anymore. She skidded to a stop at a dead-end alley, bricked in by the towering apartment blocks on three sides of her. She panted, panic making her breath even shorter.

“Psst. Hey, girl!”

She jumped, heart leaping into her throat. In the shadowy corner in between two dumpsters, something glittered. She swallowed thickly, taking a hesitant step back.

“If you want to hide, you’d better make it quick…” the rough voice croaked from the shadows, and – quick as lighting – a wrinkled hand shot out, fingertips pale with cold, skin liver spotted and scarred across the knuckles. “Come here, girl.” There was a sudden authority to the voice, not imperious, just surety, and Alice swayed in place. In the distance, a low growl of a car engine got closer and then stopped. Alice thought she heard a car door close, and footsteps in the distance. “Quick!”

Alice darted for the hand and the voice. The glitter turned out to be a jingling chain of dog-tags, and a single silver incisor in the mouth of one of the oldest and filthiest men Alice had ever seen. He smelt of old mildew and cigarette smoke, but he was barely looking at her; beady blue eyes scanning the alley over her head. He was bald, but for the last vestiges of thin grey hair clinging to the top of his scalp like smoke. He was wearing an old army jacket, torn and faded, filthy and crumpled – but the lines of colourful patches were unmistakable, as was the crest over his heart.

He lifted the bit of blanket dangling over the dumpster and his legs, and Alice dove under, squirreling her way into the pile of the man’s belongings, mercifully free from snow, though the cardboard beneath her knees was damp. She huddled behind a pair of what felt like garbage bags in the pitch black, the rough brick against her back reminding her of her scraped up palms and knees. They stung.

Then, footsteps in the alley.

Alice froze.

The old man shifted slightly, the gap of the old blanket lifting slightly, so that in the dim light reflecting off the wet cement, Alice could see the shine of the man’s boots.

“Have you seen a girl come through here?” Mr. Lee asked politely.

Alice stared at the boots.

She knew those boots.

She had seen eight pairs of those same boots in her house. She had watched those boots track blood into her carpet. She had watched those boots crush the faces of those she loved. She had watched those boots leave as if nothing had happened.

“Got any change?” the voice of the old man had changed again. It had become wheezy and crackling, and Alice could feel his body shift forwards imploringly. “Please, I just need a dollar…please… I need-”

“Have you seen a child come through here?” Mr. Lee – though Alice suspected that was not his real name – asked again, impatience thickening his accent. “She is small. Dark haired, brown skinned. You will be rewarded if-”

“How about a smoke? Do you have a smoke? A cigarette? If you’d spare one, I’d be so grateful, sir.” The old man began to sound wheedling, pathetic, and then bent double with the force of a great cough, hacking and spitting. Mr. Lee made a disgusted sound. Then his boots turned and left. Alice listened to the heavy steps fade away, turned to stone. The sudden influx of cold air as the blanket was ripped away made her squeak in fright, hand clamping over her own mouth to stifle her noise. The man was staring down at her, and Alice felt a trill of fear at the piercing, unreadable emotion in his watery eyes. “You a runaway?” he asked gruffly, the sudden question making Alice start again.

Slowly, she shook her head. “No.” She said quietly.

“Speak up, girl!” he barked, and she swallowed thickly.

“No. I got no one to runaway from.” She admitted.

“Except that man with a gun in his back pocket.” He said sharply. “You lyin’ to me, girl?”

Alice blinked. “W-what? No! He was- he tried- they-” panic made her thoughts scrambled, the late hour made her stutter, the cold was making her shake, and though she thought she had cried all the tears she ever would, her eyes began to well up again. “He’s one of the ones that killed my family!” she cried out.

The man sat and watched her as she wept, and Alice couldn’t help but resent his silence a little. Couldn’t he see she was upset? Would it hurt him to comfort her? She felt stupid in the next moment. He was a strange old homeless man. Maybe he was just waiting for her to be quiet so he could-

And then she would be with her-

No.

Her chest stung with pain again, and she pressed a hand to it. The man watched her movement. Finally, he coughed again, the sound far less theatrical than his performance earlier. “Well. That is very dramatic and very unfortunate.” Alice stared at him through her tears, mouth dropping open in surprise. “What’s your name, girl?” at her struck-dumb silence, he scowled. “Shall I address you as Orphan Annie, then? Speak up, girl.”

Alice blinked. “A-Alice. Alice Tybalt-Nefertari. But my dad,” her voice broke, and she snapped her mouth shut, willing herself to stop trembling, willing her tears to stop falling. Finally, when she could take a breath without sobbing, she tried again. “My dad always calls me Akilah.”

“Called.” The man said abruptly, lined face creasing deeper with his frown.

“What?”

“When someone is dead, you use past tense. He called you Akilah.” The old man said. Alice didn’t know what to say, and they sat there for another long silent moment, his stare going a little through her, as if he couldn’t see her anymore. The alley was silent, though the sounds of a city waking were beginning to rumble around the high walls of the street. The night sky was beginning to lighten. It was Christmas morning. Alice’s stomach rumbled audibly, and she chanced a look over the man’s shoulder. If she made a run for it now, then maybe she could find a policeman before Mr. Lee, or one of the other booted men, or the Couch-Man found her. If she could just get up and past the old man-

“Fine.” he grunted abruptly, eyes refocussing on her with laser-like precision. She straightened under his eyes, and he narrowed his eyes at her. “You’ve been marked, girl. Cursed, maybe, with some misfortune. I guess it’s up to me to break your bad luck. Now come on.” With surprising ease, he rose to his feet, and wound the blanket around his beaten-up jacket, covering his dog-tags and US Military seal. He pushed at the dumpster next to her, revealing a small door marked with an old sign saying ‘FIRE EXIT’, and then a more recent sign reading ‘OUT OF USE’. He pulled open the door, and disappeared. Alice sat and stared, shakily rising to her feet. This was her chance.

The old man stuck his head back out of the dark doorway. “Hurry up. We have to be off the street before daybreak.” He squinted at her again, a slow, humourless smile growing on his old face, his silver tooth winking at her in the low light. “I’d suggest you come with me. Whatever misplaced faith you have in the police has already been proven a bad idea. Whoever that man works for wants you dead. I know bad men like him. And they don’t stop hunting. Ever.”

He disappeared, and Alice heard the faint patter of his footsteps disappearing into the unknown beyond the door.

They don’t stop hunting. Ever.

Alice followed the man through the door.

He was already a few flights of stairs above her, invisible in the lightless and airless winding staircase spiralling up into nothingness. Alice listened to his laboured breathing, imagining she could hear the creak and groan of his old bones.

“I’d be careful about your name, girl.” He called abruptly, voice echoing slightly. “It’s not wise to have a name people know.” He grunted to himself, and there was the sound of something scraping on metal. “I gave up my name when I gave up my life. You should do the same.”

“What’s your name now?” Alice asked, still in the doorway. If she stepped inside, if the door closed, there’d be no light left – and no turning back.

“You can call me Tom.” He said, voice distant. Alice took a step forwards, and the door closed behind her with a definite thud.

It took her a moment to find the staircase, and she started the climb haltingly, afraid to miss a step, afraid to fall, toes catching on the steps, fingers grasping the metal bannister like a lifeline. Finally, when she made to take another step up, almost falling flat as her extended foot found nothing but air, a hand gripped at her with the same surprising strength. “I’ll ask you again, girl,” There was an almighty creak as Tom shoved another door open, and the cold morning air came rushing in through the bright doorway. Alice squinted, throwing a hand over her eyes as she tiptoed out of the stairs and into the morning sun. “What’s your name?”

From the high rooftop, the city looked small. The buildings were glittering in the sunlight, snow like crystals refracting a brilliance to the skyline. Alice felt a horrible, overwhelming elation at the removal. For a moment, high above the world, with the sun gold and blue on her skin, she could pretend to be living in a dream.

What’s your name?

“You can call me…” She echoed Tom’s words from earlier, mind feeling fuzzy and wispy, oddly faraway, all her thoughts the same shape as the thin clouds in the blue-grey sky. Alice was no longer Alice. She couldn’t be Alice.But she badly wanted to be.

“Alley Cat.”