Linda Fairstein - Hell Gate

“You need us to sit on the place, Counselor? They expecting any trouble from anybody?”

“Neither one of them knows a soul in this country except the people who sailed over with them.”

“And the newspapers say those poor folks aren’t exactly foot-loose and fancy free. Legal limbo, I guess.”

“It’s a horrible situation,” Nan said. “We’re hoping the task force can clear them in a reasonable amount of time.”

“Our only worry is making sure these two don’t decide to run away. I’m kind of on the hook with the feds for that,” I said. “I’m afraid you’ll get the first call if they take it on themselves to disappear.”

“Trust me. They won’t get very far in this neighborhood,” the detective said, “unless their Spanish is really good.”

I didn’t think that language barriers were an issue for these desperate young women.

“I’m betting on you, ’cause it’s my head that’s going to go on the chopping block if they do,” I said. “I’m going to call the shelter’s manager now.”

“Yeah, we got a good relationship with them over there. They’ll send an escort to show you to the house. That’s their rules, even if you know where it is. Sorta lets us know what’s going on.”

He and Nan chatted while I spoke with the social worker who was in charge of Parrish House. She said it would only take her a couple of minutes to walk the block and a half to the station house.

“Don’t worry, Ms. Cooper,” the detective said, stopping at the front desk, “we’ll give the place a little extra attention. I’ll ask the sarge here to tell the guys at every roll call we got some foreign dignitaries we gotta look out for, okay?”

I thanked him and we stayed inside the lobby until the advocate from the shelter arrived and introduced herself.

“Why don’t I walk back with you?” Nan asked. “Alex can follow with the others.”

Simchuk, Olena, and Lydia got into the SUV and I pulled away, stopping at the traffic light. I had to square the block because of the one-way streets that crossed Broadway, and by the time I pulled over in front of the fire hydrant just past the entrance to the large redbrick building, Nan and her guide were waiting on the steps.

It was a quiet residential block, with a small old church across the street and a bodega on the corner. The girls got out and looked around at their new environs, stepping back to let a young black woman with a little boy at her side pass between them as she left the shelter.

“Welcome to Parrish House,” the advocate said to Ms. Simchuk, ringing the buzzer for admission and holding the door open to invite us in. “Please tell them we’re happy to have them here.”

Before the four of us could mount the steps, I saw a dark minivan approaching down the narrow street. It caught my attention because it was so much newer and cleaner than the other beat-up cars nearby.

Ms. Simchuk went first and the girls followed. I watched out of the corner of my eye as the shiny vehicle seemed to be braking near the curb in front of the building, but its windows were so darkly tinted that I couldn’t see inside.

“Let’s go, Alex,” Nan said. “Stop looking for trouble.”

Olena and Lydia turned their heads to look at me when they heard Nan call out my name.

I put my first foot on the step just as lights seemed to burst from within the minivan. Someone was shooting photographs of our arrival.

“Call nine-one-one!” I screamed to the advocate who was inside the hallway.

“Why?”

I dug in my tote for my cell phone and dialed as the door closed behind us.

“What did I miss?” Nan asked.

“Yes, Operator. I’m an assistant district attorney. I need someone from the Three-four to come to Parrish House,” I said, giving her the address. “What? No one’s hurt, no.”

I signaled to Nan to move Olena and Lydia into the small office at the end of the hall.

“What’s the crime?” I repeated the operator’s question. “Well, I’m at a shelter for crime victims and some guy-No, I didn’t see who but I assume it was a guy, was taking photographs of us, or maybe of the house-Excuse me? I know that’s not a crime, miss. But I just need some officers over here as soon as possible.”

I opened the front door again but there was no black minivan anywhere on the street.

“Did you see a guy, really?” Nan asked me. “Ms. Simchuk, why don’t you take the girls into the office and let them get started. They’ll need to give some background information about themselves, and then we’ll show them around and introduce them to the team that works here.”

I waited until the interpreter led Olena and Lydia away before I spoke. “I’m not sure what I saw. Did you get the make of the car?”

“Get what about it? It was a station wagon, I think.”

“I could swear it was a minivan. Did you see a plate?”

“Alex, I wasn’t even aware of the thing. Why are you so freaked out?”

“In the first place, no one’s supposed to know that we’re here.”

“True. But nobody was following you.”

“How do you know?”

“Because they’d be dizzy from the ride you took to get here. C’mon, you would have noticed. Whoever it is would have rear-ended you each time you stopped to point out a famous site. What do you think, they wanted some snaps of us for Cosmo for Prosecutors ’cause we look so hot at the end of a long week like this?”

I laughed. “Imagine, I almost had an entire day without a Chapman dose of reality, and here you are, doing it for him. So it wasn’t a glamour shot?”

“Lights and sirens coming your way. Pull yourself together, my dear friend.”

“Seriously, Nan. The bigger issue is whether some other lowlife is looking for his ex and figured out this is the spot. The cops just need to know about it. So does the executive director of the agency.”

The buzzer rang and I looked through the peephole to see a young uniformed cop standing outside before I opened the door.

“Hi, I’m Alex Cooper. This is Nan Toth. We’re with the DA’s Office.”

“Nice. I’m DeCicco,” he said, pointing to the name tag on his chest. “What’s up?”

“Nan and I are just bringing two of the victims from the shipwreck-you know the boat that was grounded in Queens early Wednesday morning?”

“Victims? Victims of what? They’re all illegals, right? Somebody on board killed somebody else, right?”

I was looking for a guy with some concern and empathy, but clearly drew the short straw.

“Two of these young ladies who I’m willing to vouch for aren’t murderers, okay? Can we start with that? And they’re not going to take your job away from you anytime soon. Commissioner Scully thinks they’ll be safe here.”

“Guess he knows. Somebody bothering them?”

“Not exactly. Nan and I drove them up here, and of course, no one’s supposed to know the address of this safe house, and as we were coming up the steps this car stopped and-”

“What car?”

“A black minivan, I think it was.”

The cop was looking at the expression on Nan’s face. “Not what you think, is it?”

“I mean, Alex really saw it. Might have been dark gray or green. I didn’t actually-”

“But you don’t think it was a minivan, do you?” DeCicco asked.

“Look, I don’t want to disagree with Alex because she’s the one-”

“What is she, the boss of you or something?” He looked at me again. “Where did it stop?”

“It didn’t exactly stop. I think the driver kind of braked and slowed down.”

“You’re beginning to sound like one of your own witnesses,” Nan said. “You would be coming down on the poor thing so hard right now.”