Woody was silent as he sped along the back side of the Museum of Natural History, made a gleeful left turn, and stormed the park without slowing down for the light at Central Park West. They entered the park, heading the wrong way on the drive. It was a good thing the lane was cleared for them.
Coming toward them at the same time, a blue-and-white 4X4 with two uniformed officers from the Central Park Precinct raced down the hill, and a female mounted officer cantered south on the bridle path from the Eighty-first Street entrance.
"Turn it off," April barked.
Woody turned off the siren, pulled onto the grass, and stopped. All seemed to be quiet in the area now. There were no bystanders to a fight, no sobbing victim sitting or lying on the ground, nobody screaming or calling for help. April and Baum got out. The officer in the 4X4 pulled up beside them but remained at the wheel. Daylight was nearly gone now. Only a few lights punched an eerie glow into the fog.
April lifted her department radio and spoke. "Mid-town North Detectives Supervisor to Central. Units on the scene, Central. Will check and advise." Then she went to investigate.
Central Park was eight hundred and forty-three acres of terrain that was unusually varied for a city park. It was both wild and cultivated, with broad, shaded avenues for walking, playing fields south and east of where they were, the zoo across town at Fifth Avenue and Sixty-fifth Street.