Frustration caught him off guard. He holstered his gun and braced his hands on the closet, head bowed for a moment,breath rough. Silence closed around him, heavy as the lid of a coffin.
When his phone rang, Rick jerked it out, answering before he could catch the caller’s ID. “Yeah?”
“Hey, buddy.”Frank’s voice, rough but steady, spilled through.
Rick exhaled hard. “Frank.”
“Well, don’t start bawlin’,”Frank drawled.“Doc’s finally kicked me loose. Said I’m too mean to die. I’ll be back in the saddle before you notice I was gone.”
Rick’s throat tightened. He turned to the rain-smeared window, staring at the colorless skyline. “Frank… Ash is gone. The Sculptor’s got him.”
Frank’s tone turned sharp at once.“What? Jesus, Rick… when?”
“Last night, I think. I found out about half an hour ago.”
“Fuck.”The word hit like a low growl.“Rick, I’m sorry. Wish I was there, man. Wish I could help.”
Rick pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes burning. “I have to find him before—” He cut himself off, words cracking. “Before it’s too late.”
Frank’s tone steadied again, defaulting to cop mode.“What’ve you got to go on?”
“I’m at Gordon’s place. Searching it now.”
“Gordon?”Frank’s voice dropped a note. “You don’t mean—”
Rick’s hand tightened around the phone. “I gotta go, Frank.”
“Rick, don’t do anything—”
But Rick had already hung up, the silence returning to cloak him like a shroud. He stood still for a moment, pulse drumming in his ears.Why didn’t I call him sooner? How could I be so fucking stupid?Then—an idea sparked. Desperate, wild. There was still one person in this city who could help him.
He dialed Kitty again. The line buzzed once before she picked up.
“Rick? What’s going on?”Her voice was tighter this time.
“Kitty, did you find anything about Ash’s sister? Ivy.”
“Uh, yeah, I did.”She let out a sharp breath.“Didn’t have the chance to tell you yet. I had to dig deep, scrub through a sealed file, but I got her adoption records. Then I traced—”
“Skip it,” Rick cut in. “What did you find?”
“Right, okay.”The keyboard clattered, the mouse clicked.“She’s been adopted by the Gardner family, but doesn’t live there anymore. Let’s see… Current address is 172 Calhoun, Whitehall.”
Rick glanced at his wristwatch. “What about her job?”
“She sings at the Velvet Lounge. One of those red-curtain joints—torch songs, martinis, late-night crowd. She should be home now, sleeping off her shift.”
“Thanks, Kitty.”
Rick was moving before he even pocketed the phone. His pulse hadn’t steadied. He could almost see Ash’s face again—smirking, teasing, gone. Now every ounce of hope he had left pinned itself to a single name: Ivy. The twin. The other half of him. If she shared even a fraction of what ran through Ash’s veins, then maybe she’d seen something too. Maybe she could lead him to the Sculptor.
Chapter Fifty-Three
(11:53 a.m.)
Drip.
The sound was everything. The world had narrowed to that rhythm: the careful, measured fall of water striking the circle’s rim. Each drop bled through the paint a little more, thinning the crimson until the lines began to run like veins unraveling under skin. Another hour or so, and the boundary would break.
