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Chapter 5

The detective lived in a small, one-bedroom studio by the East River. It was right off of the FDR Drive in East Harlem. There was a dusty, smashed toilet at the foot of the staircase. He mumbled something about his apartment being on the third floor. I wondered if I could make it up three floors in these shoes, but Brisden shooed me up before I could run for it.

The usual assortment of New York City garbage littered each stairwell landing. My eyes barely even registered the mountains of take-out boxes and discarded paper coffee cups anymore.

I didn't know why it suddenly bothered me. Perhaps it reminded me too much of the apartment I lived in during college, where I first met Ashlen. It was as though my life were on rewind, and I was back on my first date again, just like I had been over a decade ago.

Yet, my feet felt like they were slowly turning to lead with each step I took toward Brisden's apartment. I didn't want to begin again. I didn't want to pretend as though the past had never happened. I wanted to shake Ashlen and demand to know why.

Why had he stolen my mild-mannered, goody-two-shoe husband from me? Wasn't it enough he ended our marriage? Did he have to take my memories, too?

Was everything a lie?

Was it all some sort of a sick double life Ashlen was living to maintain a low profile? Did he court me, propose to me, and marry me to blend in with the normal people?

Why did he pick me?

"You'll have to excuse the mess. I wasn't expecting any guests today," Brisden joked as he wiggled his keys into the lock and used his hip to push open the old, paint-chipped door. "I don't usually get lucky with first dates."

I chuckled politely and stepped into the modestly decorated apartment. It wasn't bad for a single father trapped working overtime on a nationally recognized holiday. I brushed away his feeble attempt at a joke. Our meeting at the speed-dating event clearly hadn't by chance. Had Brisden been following me up until now? Was the dating event just an opening for him to barge into my life?

"Why am I here?" I finally asked as I struggled to find a place to stand without stepping on old newspapers, candy wrappers, or kids' shoes. "Have you been following me all this time to question me?"

"No, no. You're not being detained here," Brisden quickly explained as he jumped over the mess and into the kitchen. He placed two cloudy glasses on the counter and opened the refrigerator for filtered water and ice. "You just looked like you could use a friend after what happened tonight. Maybe we can have a chat until the jitters pass."

Brisden nudged a half-full glass of water toward me. Even though my throat was parched, I had no desire to sit down and chit-chat with him over drinks. I kept my distance. He chuckled and poured me a glass of Macallan 18. I appreciated the gesture, but I didn't move.

"Please, you're not the one I'm after. I know you had nothing to do with your ex-husband's cri —I mean, business. Your hands are clean."

I bit my lower lip and didn't say a word. Who was Detective Anchor fooling by pretending this was just a friendly chit-chat? He wanted me to spill my guts on my ex-husband, the crime lord. What did the detective think I could have to offer? Did Brisden want to know Ashlen's favorite pasta dish or my ex's preferred method of taking his morning coffee? Those were the only details I could provide about this criminal mastermind, and I doubted they would be useful to the police.

"I. Have. Nothing," I stated, stressing every syllable to show him how serious I was about staying mum. "Isn't it impolite to open the ex-box on a first date, anyway?"

"Here, take the drink. I promise not to get handsy on you. I'm more of a third-date kind of guy."

I rolled my eyes. It was easy to flirt with Brisden because he had a swarmy pirate persona. I didn't know if it was my disgust at what I had witnessed my ex-husband doing in that alley tonight, but the detective was like a life preserver on a black, tumultuous ocean.

I sat on the only stool that tattered children's books hadn't overtaken.

"Lien Everhell took over his family business from his uncle Simon Everhell about six years ago. He may have played a part in the family affairs before then, but it wasn't until his uncle was taken out of action that the brotherhood started to answer to Lien instead. There were other candidates in the family for the top role, but Lien emerged as the victor."

Six years ago. I decided to accept Brisden's offer of hard liquor. Six years ago, Ashlen and I were still man and wife. He had grown distant that year. He told me he had a new hobby, playing online games. He got really into it, to the point that he was traveling to meet up with his friends who were in the same guild as he was. I didn't think anything of it at the time. He was working as a computer analyst, so I assumed it was what he and his coworkers did off hours to release stress. To be fair, I was busy at the time with my training. I was barely home. Who had time to monitor if Ashlen was fighting make-believe monsters in World of Warcraft or if he was running a criminal organization that controlled half of Manhattan?

I did notice that he was putting in more hours at the gym. Ashlen had always had a body like that of an Olympic swimmer, deer-like but strong as steel when the opportunity called for it. He was deceptively slender and graceful like a gymnast but never lacked strength.

That year, I noticed he was suddenly filling out his t-shirts. His old college shirts were suddenly too tight around the arms and the chest. Like most comfortably married men, he never thought to buy clothing for himself, and at some point, I worried he would rip a hole in his sleeves.

My thoughts turned back to the tall, statuesque man I saw in the shadows today. Yes, the one wearing the inky-black, pristine, perfectly tailored wool coat. Who was that man? He was nothing like the husband I once knew.

"Seeing Simon was gone, and the Everhells were weak, the other families tried to take over their turf. They managed to take down several of Lien's weaker cousins. At the height of the conflict, Donny Silvertooth, the beloved and feared heir apparent of the Ten Dragons, tried to jump Lien on his way out of a club in Soho. Lien wasn't armed, and Donny went into that fight, armed to the teeth. They found Donny the next morning with the bones in his hands broken and his spine twisted. Lien had shot him in the mouth and left Donny's own pistol where his tongue had been. That sent a message to the families that you don't mess with Lien Everhell. No one knows what happened outside the club, but the word on the street is that Lien challenged Donny to an unarmed fistfight and didn't stop until he beat Donny into a bloody coma. No one thought Lien had it in him. Up until then, they thought he was some nobody."

I grinned warily. Yeah, now that I thought about it, one December about six years ago, I came home one night to find Ashlen sitting at the kitchen table, icing his hand and with bruises over his shoulders like someone had hit him over the back with a baseball bat. I didn't know if that was the night Brisden spoke of, but there was a time when Ashlen constantly complained about slipping and falling at the steps by his workplace parking lot. He said he needed new prescription glasses but kept putting off seeing an eye doctor.

He was always like that. He didn't trust doctors even though he was married to one. I was too involved in my own work to think anything of it. Perhaps, in looking back, I, too, was failing our marriage. I didn't care enough to look. Otherwise, I would have seen signs that my husband's entire existence was unraveling.

"At first, they thought he was just some kid, barely out of college. But Lien turned out to be a ruthless leader. He seldom made in-person appearances, disdains meetings with the other leaders, and prefers to exist in the shadows. Lien Evenhell has no friends, no confidants, and never stays in one location for long. I've followed his activities for years now, and he has never had a steady girlfriend, no drinking buddies, no trusted bodyguards, and isn't close to any family members. He's a man of mystery and periodically wipes every trace of his existence like he doesn't even exist. The only person he has ever anchored himself to was you."

"He hasn't contacted me in three years," I blurted out. "I have no idea where he is now or what he is planning next. You've wasted your time in questioning me tonight, detective."

"He'll reach out to you," Brisden stated bluntly. "And when he does, you can either help us catch this madman or let him continue his reign of terror."

Brisden slipped a small metal object across the table. I picked it up and frowned. It was a cellphone, a disposable one.

"You can call me when he reaches out to you. Anything you can offer us will be greatly appreciated. I'm not expecting a silver bullet to take this jackass down. But if you can offer us anything, even just a tip on what restaurant he'll be eating at next week, it could help us get rid of the Evenhells for good."

I stared down at the phone. So that was Brisden's angle. He wanted me to betray my violent and powerful ex-husband. What would become of me if the police didn't manage to apprehend him? Or if Ashlen suspects I was working with the police? He had left me in peace three years ago; it was too much to expect he would let me escape again.

"Listen, organized criminals like the Evenhells cost millions in taxpayer dollars a year. As a health professional, you've seen firsthand how damaging street violence can be. We promise we will protect you. Do this, and you'll prevent an untold number of lives from being taken by these killers."

I nodded and slipped the phone into my purse. I didn't need a lecture on the dangers of organized crime. I considered myself educated enough, and up until now, I thought I had a strong moral compass.

However, the man they were asking me to betray was the one I had once believed I would spend the rest of my life with. He was the one who could convince me that stealing from the popular boys at school was the morally right thing to do.

Then again, I was a child back then. I was a grown woman now. Surely, I had more sense in my head now.

I stood up and opened up my Uber app on my phone.

"I'm going to head home now if that's all you had to say. It's late, and I have to work tomorrow."

Brisden reached over the table and shut my app off. He downed the rest of my whiskey and walked me to the door. "I'll call you a taxi. Your phone has probably been bugged for years."

"Really?" I reflexively made a face. "That seems like a horrible violation of my privacy."

"The man you loved is gone. You need to see that you were married to Lien Everhell, the most dangerous man in Manhattan. He loved you, lost you, and has never forgotten you."

"Yellow Flannel," I said suddenly, "I mean, the one they called Joey, he was working with you, wasn't he? You set him up in that café because you knew he wasn't supposed to be in midtown. He was there to lure Lien out of hiding."

Brisden smiled, but there was no joy in his expression. Perhaps he was the only one allowed to ask questions. "Yes. He was under police protection. He has been working with us for a while now."

I shrugged and turned to the door. I was supposed to share everything I knew with them, but they would not do the same for me. Perhaps my irritation was readily apparent because Brisden grabbed a folder off of the pile of junk on his kitchen counter and ran after me. He shoved it into my hands. I glanced down and saw a manila folder containing a random assortment of copies of newspaper articles and internet printouts. On the tab, I saw written in black permanent marker – Lien Everhell, Person of Interest.

"Here is some homework for ya. When you get home, you can catch up on your ex-husband's double life the last couple of years."


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