you’re going to get.”
It had been so long since someone had called him “kid,” Paul almost liked it. “At least when you keel over and I have to call 911 for the third time tonight, it won’t take the paramedics long to get here.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Keren turned to the FBI agent, still in his black suit even in the middle of the night. “Are you done grilling me, Higgins?”
Higgins said, “For now.”
He and O’Shea turned to leave. Keren and Paul headed for the surgical floor.
“I’ll be right back, Higgins.” O’Shea’s voice turned Paul and Keren back.
O’Shea came up close and spoke in a whisper to Keren. “There are going to be questions about tonight, so get ready for them.”
“What questions?” Keren asked.
“You discharged your weapon.”
“At a fleeing felon.”
Paul noticed Higgins reach the exit door then stop and look back, one brow arched on his movie-star handsome face.
“Anytime you fire your weapon, you answer for it—that’s routine. You’ll need to file an incident report.”
“I know that.” Keren sounded cranky, but Paul suspected she was just in pain and taking it out on the world.
“You fired at a moving vehicle, in the dark.”
“He ran me down.” Keren ran one hand into her hair and fiddled with her weird barrette. She took a quick look at Higgins.
Higgins started back toward their secretive little group.
“You ran out of an alley into his path. You could have run into the path of any oncoming car. You didn’t know who was driving it.”
“I did. It was him and you know it.” Keren scowled.
“I do know it. But you made a real fast judgment call, and I’ve yet to hear you say you saw the guy’s face, saw him get into that car, kept your eye on him the whole time. You need to get your story straight. I understand how you could be sure it was him, but IA isn’t going to trust you like I do.”
Paul felt his blood chill as he thought of the headaches of an internal affairs investigation. Keren could end up suspended, even fired. And he needed her on this case.
“I appreciate you mentioning it. I’ve got nothing to hide.”
“Good.” O’Shea turned just as Higgins came up.
“Why do I feel like I’m not invited to this party?” Higgins’s hazel eyes looked at all of them like they were a herd of gazelles and he was the king of the jungle. And speaking of animals, Paul thought of that weird gathering of critters in the park tonight. He’d meant to ask about that.
“Just cop stuff. We’re done here.” O’Shea turned and left.
“Being suspicious is how I make my living.” Higgins smiled then turned to follow O’Shea.
Paul thought the smile was a little too warm and aimed very particularly at Keren. But then Paul was so tired he was sucking fumes, and he might be making stuff up.
Keren started down the hall toward the OR. “Now, tell me how LaToya is holding up.”
Paul caught up with her and repeated everything the nurse had said to him.
“You felt that guy, didn’t you?”
Keren sat in one of the chairs in the waiting room, with her forearms resting on her knees, her hands clasped between her legs, her head drooping. Paul sank down in a chair next to her, so tired he could barely see straight, and he hadn’t been run down by a Malibu.
Of course he’d had a building fall on him recently.
“Yeah.” Keren turned to look at him. “I never even thought of it until Mick said that. I knew he was in that car. There’s no doubt it was him.”
“But you didn’t really see him, did you? And if you hadn’t had that sense of him, you’d have hesitated before you fired. You’d have considered it might have been an accident when he hit you.”
Keren’s eyes seemed to look into the past, as if she were reliving that race she’d run, chasing a serial killer.
“I’ve almost never talked about this gift I have and now I can’t shut up about it.”
“I’m honored.” And he was, deeply.
She spoke carefully, as if putting words to a story that unfolded in her memory. “I heard him running. I was following the sound of his footsteps, but the presence of him guided me.”
“Sounds like you’ve got a Spidey sense or something.”
Keren slugged him in the leg and managed a smile. “Great image. Maybe I oughta get a red ski mask to wear for work. It’d at least control my hair.”
Paul reached over and pulled her hair tie loose.
“Hey, stop that.”
“It was hanging by about ten hairs. Just relax.”
Keren did, probably because she was so beat up. “I’m not going to lie, I refuse to. But no one will understand the concept of a spiritual gift leading me anywhere. After the guy hit me…” She ran both hands deep into her coiled explosion hair and sat silently. At last she said, “I heard the car door slam. I heard the engine. The driver gunned it. Took off. Aimed straight for me. I think I can honestly say it was an unbroken trail that I followed from the crime scene. I heard it all.”
“And if they hammer on it long enough and don’t accept that?” Paul reached over and caught her right wrist. It couldn’t be too badly hurt; she’d fired her gun real efficiently with it.
“I’ll give them my story and they can do with it what they want. I’m a good cop with a good record. All but—” Her blue-gray eyes came up and nearly burned a hole in his hide.
“All but the bad mark you’ve got because of me.” He held on to her hand, and she let him, so that was a good sign.
“Let’s just drop it for now. I need some time to think it through, get it straight in my head.”
“I need some time to pray for LaToya.” Paul let her go before she made him.
“That, too.” Keren managed a smile. The two of them sat quietly in the waiting room and prayed.
The window in the lobby began to lighten, and they received word that LaToya was through the surgery and out of recovery. Her coma had deepened. She was now in a room where Paul was allowed in to see her for a few minutes.
She lay motionless, hooked up to every monitor imaginable. But she was alive. Paul’s most heartfelt prayers had been answered.
Higgins impatiently appeared, hoping to question LaToya.
It woke up the prowling cop inside Paul, the one he’d spent the night lulling to sleep. Higgins was just doing his job. Paul still wanted to slug the guy.
When the sunlight began to give them hope that they had a better day ahead, O’Shea came into the waiting room. “Well, I’ve got good news and bad news. And the bad news is so bad that we’ll never get to the good news if I tell you the bad first.”
With a jerked move of his hand that accentuated his distress, he tossed a copy of the Monday morning
“That’s great,” Keren said, pleased. “Did the paper agree to cooperate?”
“No,” O’Shea said with disgust. “They just got the red herring we tossed out and ran with it.”
“They’re going to be mad when we tell them the truth,” Keren predicted. “I can hear them now, ‘Police Lying to the Press,’ ‘Citywide Cover-up,’ ‘What Did the Mayor Know and When Did He Know It?’“
O’Shea said, “So what else is new? They got enough of the sensational details about LaToya to make a front-page story, but they haven’t found out about the carving or the frogs, and they also don’t know LaToya is connected to Juanita. Once the serial killer connection comes out, we won’t be able to take a step without a reporter’s camera flashing in our faces.”
“So what’s the bad news?” Paul looked at the picture of LaToya. It was one of the pictures that hung by her
