Page 106 of Breaking the Dark

THE BOXING CLUB is in a basement on East 106th, below a piano shop. It has a flashing blue neon sign attached to the wall, a man wearing a boxing glove moving back and forth toward a punching bag. Underneath it says HIT ’N’ FIT.

Luke follows Jessica down the steps and through the door.

Inside is hot, airless. A wiry white guy in a Hit ’n’ Fit T-shirt comes toward them. He eyes Luke curiously, probably clocks him as a professional boxer, probably wonders what a guy like him is doing in a glorified fitness club like this. He pulls a clipboard from a counter by the door and says, “Hey, how can I help you guys?”

“Not here to hit and fit, sadly,” says Jessica, showing him her ID card. “Jessica Jones. This is my associate, Luke Cage. We’re looking for a club member, Fox Randall?”

“Oh yeah. Foxy!”

Foxy? Jessica lets it pass.

“Yeah,” she begins. “He left school early today and hasn’t been seen since. I just wondered if you had seen him or had any idea about where he might be. It’s possible he was with this guy?” She shows him a photo of Malcolm on her phone. “He’s been here a couple of times, hung out with Fox?”

“Yeah. I recognize this dude too. Can’t remember his name.”

“Sly. Sly McNeil is his name.”

The guy nods. “Yeah. Right. I mean, they were in last week, Friday, but I haven’t seen either of them since.”

“And you can’t think of anything that either of them might have said or done, anything you overheard? Places they might go? People they might be meeting?”

The Hit ’n’ Fit T-shirt guy shrugs. “I mean, no, not really. You know, we don’t talk much here. It’s pretty much focused on the activity. And even if they were talking, I gotta be honest with you, I probably wouldn’t be listening. I mean, teenagers, you know, they talk a ton of shit.”

A young guy is standing a little away from them, and it’s clear to Jessica that he has been listening to their conversation. As the Hit ’n’ Fit guy heads away, he approaches them.

“Hey,” he says, “were you asking about Fox and Sly?”

Jessica nods. “Yeah. You know something?”

“Yeah,” he says. “Kinda. They were in on Friday, and I heard them saying something about a girl named Miranda.”

“Uh-huh. What did they say exactly?”

“That they were going to meet her—no—that ‘she is coming.’”

“Coming where?”

“Coming here? To New York? And that Fox was going to go to her place.”

Jessica feels the terrible twin pangs of progress and danger familiar to this kind of case. “Her place?” she parrots.

“Yeah, I think it sounded like an Airbnb? He said something about how he had the code to get in. He asked Sly if he could come with him on Sunday night. Sly said yes.”

“Good, good. And what else? Did he say anything else?”

“No, not really. Just that. Oh, and he said not to tell his sister. I mean I just thought it was some girl shit. Or even drugs, or some such. But you think it’s something bad?”

“Yeah. It might be.” She passes the boy her card. “Let me know if you hear or see or remember anything. Anything at all, okay?”

“Yes. I will.” He stares at the card in awe. “I’m really sorry,” he says. “I wish I’d paid more attention. I wish I could tell you more.”

“Seriously, you did good. Thank you.”

Out on the street, Jessica calls Amber, who picks up in just under a single ringtone. Jessica puts the call on speaker so that Luke can listen in.

“Did you find him?” Amber begins.

“No. No I didn’t. But I know that he was arranging to go to an Airbnb with Malcolm last night to meet someone named Miranda.”