Chapter 4 - THE CLOSED DOOR ON 21ST STREET
Nathan did not let go of her wrist immediately. He knelt on the cold linoleum, his black suit trousers pressing against the rough floor, his thumb resting lightly against the pulse point on the child’s arm.
Her heart was racing like a trapped bird’s, yet her gaze remained fixed on him, defiant and terrified in the same breath.
“Who does these coats belong to?” Nathan asked, his voice a low, gravelly baritone that rumbled softly in the small space.
Lily swallowed, her throat bobbing. “Mr. Henderson down at the butcher shop. He gives me fifty cents for two coats if the buttons are tight.”
“Fifty cents,” Nathan repeated, the words tasting like ash in his mouth.
He slowly released her hand. He reached into his coat pocket, pulled out a clean, black silk handkerchief, and gently wrapped it around her stinging index finger, tucking the corner in so it wouldn't slip.
He rose to his full height. The sheer, overwhelming scale of the man seemed to expand, filling the small apartment until the walls felt thin as paper.
Nathan turned his head toward the back of the apartment.
At the end of the short, unlit corridor, a single wooden door stood shut. The paint on the frame was cracked, and beneath the gap at the floor, not a single sliver of light escaped. It was from behind that door that the smell of illness and antiseptic originated.
Nathan took a slow, heavy step toward the hallway.
Instantly, the quiet, obedient little girl vanished.
Lily scrambled off the wooden stool with frantic speed. Her bare feet slapped across the cold floorboards, her faded floral dress whipping around her thin shins as she sprinted ahead of him, throwing her small body directly in front of the bedroom door.
She flattened her back against the peeling wood, her arms outstretched like a tiny cross, blocking the brass doorknob with her shoulders.
Her eyes were wide with pure, unadulterated panic.
She reached out with both hands and grabbed the sleeve of Nathan’s tailored black coat, her small, tape-wrapped fingers bunching the expensive wool in a desperate, white-knuckled grip.
“No!” Lily cried, her voice trembling, wobbling on the precipice of tears for the first time. “Please, mister! Don’t go in there!”
Nathan stopped. He looked down at the tiny hands clutching his arm, then into the child’s terrified face.
“Lily,” Nathan said softly, his voice remarkably steady, devoid of the harshness he used with grown men. “I need to speak to your mother.”
Lily shook her head violently, her long chestnut hair whipping across her rosy cheeks, the blue ribbon fluttering against her neck.
“Mom said you can’t see her,” Lily pleaded, her voice rising in a frightened, breathless rush. “She said if anyone comes from the office, I have to give them the envelope and tell them she’s at work! She said if you see her, you’ll take me away! Please don’t take me away, mister! I can sew faster! I’ll do five coats today, I swear! Just leave Mom alone!”
The child was sobbing now, the dam of her unnatural maturity finally bursting. She buried her face against the black wool of his sleeve, her small frame shaking with violent, heartbreaking gasps.
Nathan stood motionless.
If you see her, you'll take me away.
May you like
The words echoed in his skull with a sickening, disorienting ring. Why would a sick mother in a derelict apartment tell her child that the landlord would take her? Tenants feared eviction; they feared police; they feared the street. They did not fear being recognized unless they were hiding from a specific face.
Unless they were running from him.
