LITMIR.BIZ

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involved taxis and their drivers. In this case, a female driver, murdered because she’d stopped to help a not-quite-dead man who’d pissed off his boss in a big and apparently fatal way.

      Setting her sketchbook aside, she went to stand at the balcony rail.

      “There were no palm trees in Rear Window,” she said over her shoulder. “It was also set in New York.”

      Jamie huffed out a breath. “I get your point. This isn’t a movie. It’s real life. I still think you could give me a hint about what’s going on.”

      “Are you kidding? A hint’s all I’ve been given so far.”

      “Sex him.”

      A laugh bubbled up. “Excuse me?”

      “Use your body, Maya, your wiles, your brain if you have to, but get answers.”

      “All very complimentary in its own warped way, but I’m a doctor, and Tal’s a cop. We’re not john and under-cover hooker here.”

      “So you’re not curious?”

      “I didn’t say that.”

      “No, but…Oh, crap, I give up. You’ll tell me what you want to when you want to. Just please tell me you’re still good to go for the game tomorrow. You’re the best setter I’ve got.”

      Turning, Maya bumped a hip against the iron railing. “I’ll be there, Coach Hazell. Might be bringing a few official friends, but I won’t let you down.”

      “I’ll settle for that.” Jamie craned her neck sideways. “Whose face are you drawing? It looks like your hot lieutenant’s.”

      “You have a good memory to go with your nursing skills.” Maya lifted her own face to the setting sun. “Tal will be here any minute.”

      “My cue to exit stage right. Look, don’t limit yourself, okay? You’ve got the bod. Use it. Knowledge is power. You can’t trust other people to keep you safe. The best protection comes from within. Not that there are any real guarantees…about anything or anyone.”

      Maya heard the zip of Jamie’s shoulder bag, saw something glint in her peripheral vision. When she looked back, her friend was smiling. Over the top of the gun she’d just removed from her bag.

      

      TAL’S POLICE RADIO GAVE a static-filled squawk. He reached down to engage.

      “Busy here, Carlisle.”

      “Aware of that, Talbot.” The female dispatcher matched his irritable tone. “Captain thought you’d like to know that a patrol found Tyler’s Mustang outside a waterfront warehouse. The Ricolini Brothers warehouse, to be exact. It’s on its way to be impounded.”

      “Tell the tow guys that if they scratch it, they’ll want to avoid me for a few months.”

      “It’s only a car, for Chrissake.”

      “A classic car. Anything in the warehouse?”

      “Yeah. Blood.”

      “Adam’s?”

      “That’s the consensus. We’ll know soon enough. I’ve got you en route to Dr. Maya Santino’s. Captain wants you to escort her to the station ASAP.”

      “When I can.”

      He switched off, worked his way through a clogged intersection.

      He kept seeing Maya’s face, couldn’t get it out of his head. Should he feel guilty about that? Probably not. Should he worry about it? Absolutely.

      Because any objection he raised was merely a front for the real reason he’d kept his distance all these years.

      In the few hours of sleep he’d managed to catch earlier today, that reason had come back in an all-too-familiar rush of twisted images and distorted memories. Of his mother and his father, of shouting matches and tears, of objects being hurled, of doors being slammed.

      Near the end, the doors gave a metallic clang, and the shouts gave way to a squeal of tires on rain-soaked pavement.

      It was the same nightmare, always the same. Windshield wipers slapping louder and louder. His mother’s voice rising from a whisper to a cry as she reminded him that he’d only gotten half his genes from her. As she dragged him into the light and showed him the bruises…

      Swearing, Tal shoved it away, concentrated on not killing anyone while he made a sharp left. Yes, Adam had been his friend, and, yes, there’d been problems between them. But guilt and friendship were merely excuses.

      It was the bruises that mattered.

      

      JAMIE HELD TIGHT TO THE gun, and to her conviction.

      “Take it, Maya. It’s old, not much, hardly more than a prop, actually, but no creep who jumps you in the dark will know that.”

      “Jamie, I’ve only been jumped by one creep in twenty-nine years.” Unless you counted her cousin Diego, who’d leapfrogged over her during a treasure hunt at his ninth birthday party. “I have cops watching me, I know self-defense and I don’t freak easily.”

      “A little extra protection can’t hurt.’

      “No guns, Jamie.”

      Her friend blew out a breath. “Your daddy must have been a mule.”

      Maya took the gun, unzipped Jamie’s bag and dropped it inside. “I’m fine with firearms in their place. That place just isn’t with me.”

      “Some kind of stinging spray then. Will you at least carry that?”

      “Mommies everywhere,” Maya murmured.

      “What can I say?” Jamie hoisted her bag. “We worry.”

      Maya walked her through the living room. “Speaking of worry, how’s your daughter?”

      “She wants to be called Mask. Tell you anything?”

      Maya told herself not to laugh. “Is there a reason?”

      “Not that I’ve heard. Her therapist thinks I should enroll her in a twenty-four-week program. Great idea, until you look at the price tag. I reminded him that I’m a nurse, not a pro athlete.”

      “Listen, Jamie. I don’t have kids, but I do have a little extra money. I could—”

      Jamie cut her off sharply. “I don’t borrow from friends. It fuddles things up.” At a knock on the door, Maya sighed, checked the viewer, then opened to Tal. Before she could speak, her friend gave a long whistle.

      “Wow. You really are a hottie, aren’t you, Lieutenant? Tall, dark and totally bootylicious.”

      Maya hooked her fingers in Jamie’s waistband. “Roll up your tongue, Nurse Hazell, and say goodbye to the nice lieutenant.”

      Jamie grimaced. “You really know how to butcher a moment, don’t you? Keep her safe, Lieutenant Talbot. Good E.R. doctors are hard to come by.”

      Tal stood aside so she could make her exit, but remained on the threshold, with his shoulder resting on the door frame. “You look refreshed, Dr. Santino.”

      “You don’t. Showered and changed, yes. Like a man who got more than three hours of sleep, no.”

      “Two, but I’ll make up for it.” He stepped inside, looked around. “Tell me about your dream.”

      She leaned against the closed door. “It wasn’t a dream so much as a flash of memory. I went outside to see how many patients still needed attention and saw them. Someone was shaking Adam. He stopped when he saw me and took off. There were a lot of shadows, Tal, and I was more concerned about Adam than the person with him.”

      “But you saw his face.”

      “Enough to

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