to Ramsey. “I’d like to go over the statement you gave me regarding your shooting.”
“Why? I told you everything.”
Cruz leaned against the wall next to the bed. “Let’s see, shall we? Sometimes people remember things without even realizing it.” He consulted the notebook he’d brought with him. “You said you didn’t see the face of the person who shot you, but you saw the car?”
“Yeah, I told you, it was a dark green car. I don’t know what kind, but it was old. There was lots of rust on it.”
“Did you hear it coming?”
“What do you mean?”
Madeline bit her lip. Cruz would have tough going with this one. The young man was determined not to give them any more information than he had to. She studied the youth in the bed. He looked older than fifteen. He was a handsome boy, despite the strain the shooting and the surgery must have had on him. His eyes held a worn weariness she’d seen too often on the streets, sometimes in children younger than this one. It was a look carried by someone who’d seen too much, and eaten too little. One that said he didn’t even expect to live to adulthood.
Her attention was snared by the brother, Ricky. He hadn’t stopped moving since they’d entered the room. He picked up various objects-the water pitcher, the box of tissues-and then set them down again. He’d moved away from the bed now, and was leaning against the wall. One knee was bouncing nervously. She smiled at him. “Hospitals make you uncomfortable, huh? Me, too. I can never get used to the smell.”
He looked surprised to have her speak to him, but he smiled shyly. “Yeah, man, and is it ever clean! I thought my mom was bad, but there’s this nurse here, she’s a real beast about germs.”
Madeline laughed softly. “You must have been spending a lot of time here with Ramsey.”
He nodded. “My mom comes, too, when she can, but she works two jobs, so she don’t get much time off. I come whenever I can find someone else to watch Rhonda-that’s my little sister. I don’t like to bring her much. A hospital is no place for kids, ya know?”
She nodded in agreement, silently noting that Ricky wasn’t much more than a kid himself. He looked only about twelve or thirteen, and lacked the world-weary air of his brother. “Who watches your sister when you come to the hospital?”
Ricky’s shoulders went back defensively. “I always make sure she’s taken care of. Mom would kill me if I left her alone. There’s a lady in our building, she don’t mind looking out for her. Today I took her to the library. Rhonda loves it there. She reads real good, for only being eight.”
“It sounds like Rhonda is lucky to have you for a big brother,” Madeline said sincerely, and the boy smiled in genuine pleasure at the compliment.
“Ricky!”
All heads swiveled at Ramsey’s voice. When he had his brother’s attention, he ordered tersely, “Pour me some water, will ya?” Ricky obediently tended to his brother, and Ramsey settled back in the bed. He exchanged a long glance with Madeline and she knew he’d issued the command to put a stop to her conversation with the boy.
There were no answers forthcoming in his carefully blank gaze, nor did Cruz fain much better with the questions he asked him. Ramsey’s answers were noncommittal, and short to the point of belligerence. He was careful to keep Ricky near him, ordering him about, making sure the boy was too busy to talk to Madeline again.
Finally Cruz snapped the notebook shut in exasperation. “Well, I guess that’s all I have for right now, Ramsey. Okay if I get back to you, if I have more questions?” They all were aware that the request was mere politeness; Cruz could and would be contacting Ramsey again. The look on the boy’s face said that he knew it, too.
“Won’t do no good,” he responded with a shrug. “Told ya all I know.” Ricky, for once, was still, watching their faces carefully, as though trying to discern what wasn’t being said. Madeline reached into her purse and pulled out a folded sheet of paper, tearing off a piece of it. “Here, Ricky,” she said, scribbling on the back of it. “I’ll bet Rhonda likes to read about animals, doesn’t she?”
The boy exchanged a puzzled look with his brother and responded, “Yeah. She’s nuts about horse stories, especially.”
She finished writing and held the piece of paper out to him. “So was I, at that age. I wrote down the name of a couple of authors who were my favorites when I was a kid. Maybe Rhonda would like to check out some of their books the next time you take her to the library.”
Ricky took the paper from her slowly, looking uncertainly at his brother. Ramsey shrugged a little, and settled back in the hospital bed. Ricky smiled at Madeline. “Thanks. I’ll help her look them up.” He slipped the paper into his pocket.
Cruz and Madeline said goodbye to the boys and went out the door. Walking down the hallway, she remarked, “Nice kid.”
He slanted a glance at her. “Let me guess. You wrote it on the back of your card. Smooth, Casey, very smooth. But what makes you think he’ll use it? Or that he has anything to tell us?”
“Whatever Ramsey is involved in, Ricky doesn’t agree with, I’d stake my life on that. I’m just not sure how much he knows about his brother’s involvement with the Lords.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if that was the source of the argument we overheard.”
“I didn’t hear everything Ramsey told you while I was talking to Ricky. Did he give you any leads?”
“Maybe,” Cruz responded as they crossed the parking lot in the bright sunlight. The sun caught her hair and gilded it, turning it into a fiery halo threaded with gold. He was reminded of the first time he’d seen her at the playground. It had been a day just like this one, and her hair had shimmered in the afternoon sun. He experienced an overwhelming desire to unfasten the barrette that seemed to be holding the heavy mass pinned above her neck, and shoved his hands deep into his jeans pockets to squelch the urge.
“Go ahead,” she invited.
His eyes bounced to hers disbelievingly. She was giving him permission? “What?”
“You said maybe Ramsey had given you a lead. What was it?”
He shook his head a little to clear it as they reached the car and he waited for her to unlock it. He would do well to keep those mental meanderings under control. He doubted very much that Detective Sergeant Madeline Casey would appreciate being the object of his overactive imagination.
They were both seated in the car when she prompted him again. “Well?”
His mouth quirked. She really wasn’t long on patience. He could read that in her rigid posture. He’d be willing to bet she had a temper to match that head of hair, although he hadn’t had occasion to experience it yet. He wondered how much longer he had before she reached over and throttled him for keeping her in suspense. Not long, he surmised, gauging her short, jerky movements as she switched on the car and put it into gear. He deliberately waited another moment before answering her question. “It was after you’d been talking to Ricky for a while. Ramsey was getting a little distracted, trying to hear what you two were saying and at the same time answer my questions. He slipped up once. I’d asked him if he had insurance to take care of the hospital bill and he answered that Dirk would take care of it. Then he caught himself, and said he could take care of it.”
“Dirk,” Madeline murmured, her mind swiftly flipping through her memory banks.
“Dirk Cantoney,” be supplied.
She nodded, knowing where she’d seen that name. “Leader of the Lords.”
“Exactly. Makes you wonder, doesn’t it, just why Cantoney would be willing to come up with that much money for a kid who just joined the gang a few months ago?”
“Maybe Ramsey is something of a hero now that he’s been shot,” she suggested.
“I haven’t had any luck finding Cantoney yet, but I’ve told the Lords members I’ve talked to that I want to meet with him.”
“He’d be the one who would deal on the gun if they’re planning to retaliate,” Madeline agreed.
Cruz nodded. “We’ll go looking for him right after lunch.”
“I have just the spot,” she answered, driving surely. “Driver gets to pick where we eat dinner.”
“I didn’t get to pick yesterday.”
“Thanks to your driving, we didn’t get to eat yesterday.”
