Chương 2
Rafe caught the rear door.
“I’m going with her,” Elena said.
“You’re giving a statement.”
“I can give it at the hospital.”
“You were the target.”
“And she was hit.”
The siblings stared at each other. Elena’s lower lip trembled once, then steadied. Rafe’s hand remained on the ambulance door.
Mave wanted to tell them both to stop. She wanted quiet. She wanted Finn’s bear on the pillow beside him and Mrs. Keating complaining that every television detective wore shoes too expensive for real police work.
Instead she said, “Let her come.”
Rafe looked at her.
The effort of speaking made black dots appear in her vision. “She’ll fight you all night. I need the ambulance to leave.”
Elena made a sound that might have been a laugh if she had not been so close to crying.
Rafe removed his hand. “I’ll follow.”
The ambulance doors closed between them.
At Massachusetts General, a trauma nurse removed what remained of Mave’s dress and placed it in a clear evidence bag. The nurse was younger than Mave and wore tiny gold stars in both ears. She apologized each time she moved Mave’s arm, as though politeness could reduce physics.
Imaging showed a fractured right scapula, two cracked ribs, and a pulmonary contusion that required observation. There was no punctured lung, no internal bleeding, no damage to the spine. The doctor called that good news.
Mave nodded because people expected gratitude when the worst thing had failed to happen.
Elena sat in the corner wearing a hospital blanket over her cream dress. Someone had cleaned a thin line of Mave’s blood from her wrist, but she kept rubbing the same spot.
A uniformed officer took her statement first. Elena spoke carefully until he asked why the waitress might have known the attacker’s intentions.
“She heard him,” Elena said.
“Say what?”
“He came to my table before it happened. He leaned down like he was fixing a napkin and said my brother had forgotten how to kneel.”
The officer looked up from his notes. “Did you tell anyone?”
“I thought it was some stupid message from someone trying to scare Rafe.”
“Does that happen often?”
Elena glanced at the door.
The officer repeated the question.
“People say things.”
“What kinds of things?”
“Things they don’t say twice.”
Mave watched the officer’s pen pause. Elena noticed too.
“No,” Elena said quickly. “That sounded worse than I meant.”
“It usually does,” the officer said.
When it was Mave’s turn, the doctor limited the interview to ten minutes. She explained the missing name tag, the controlled way the man moved, and the words she had overheard. She did not mention that she had seen him before.
Not yet.
The memory was incomplete. A hospital elevator. A black cap. A broad hand pressing the button for pediatric cardiology. Perhaps it was not the same man. Boston contained more than one broad middle-aged stranger with a hostile face.
She did not want to accuse someone based on the shape of a neck.
Rafe arrived with a police detective, a lawyer, and Carlo. He had buttoned his suit jacket, though there was wine on one knee and a torn thread near the cuff. His anger had settled into something less visible and more dangerous.
The detective introduced herself as Lena Ortiz. She had dark hair streaked with gray and an expression suggesting she had already heard three lies since dinner.
“The attacker’s name is Victor Salcedo,” she said. “Fifty-one. Two assault convictions, one weapons charge, worked private security around the harbor. He says he acted alone.”
Rafe took the chair beside the window. “He’s lying.”
Ortiz looked at him. “Your gift for investigation is noted.”
“He had a stolen uniform, access to a private dining room, and knew where my sister would sit.”
“Then perhaps your security is less impressive than advertised.”
Carlo shifted behind him. Rafe did not.
The doctor entered before the detective could ask another question. Mave would remain overnight. Her breathing had grown shallower, and the lung bruise could worsen during the first twenty-four hours. She would need pain control, repeated oxygen checks, and several weeks without lifting trays or carrying anything heavier than a few pounds.
Mave stared at him.
“How many weeks?”
“Likely six before full duty. Maybe longer.”
“I can’t be out six weeks.”
The doctor’s voice softened in a way she disliked. “You were struck with a steel baton.”
“I heard it.”
Rafe’s eyes moved toward the folded bill on the bedside table. Someone had returned the photograph and paper in a clear hospital bag.
Mave saw him looking.
“Don’t,” she said.
He lifted his gaze. “Don’t what?”
“Whatever you’re thinking.”
“I haven’t said anything.”
“That’s generally when people like you do the most damage.”
Elena closed her eyes briefly. Carlo looked at the floor. Detective Ortiz’s expression became almost interested.
Rafe rested his forearms on his knees. “People like me.”
“You own a restaurant where a man dressed as an employee tried to murder your sister.”
“I own several restaurants.”
“Congratulations.”
A pause moved through the room.
Elena pulled the blanket tighter around herself. “Mave.”
“No, she’s right,” Rafe said. “She was injured because someone used my business to reach my family.”
“I was injured because I stepped in front of a baton.”
“Why?”
Mave’s answer came too fast. “Because she’s nineteen.”
Elena looked down.
Rafe’s face did not change, but something in the room did.
Detective Ortiz closed her notebook. “Mr. Colazo, I need you outside. Ms. Colazo stays. Mr. Bell, you too.”
Carlo opened the door. Rafe remained seated.
Ortiz waited.
He stood at last and looked at Mave. “Your son is safe. Two officers spoke to Mrs. Keating. She has not told him what happened.”
“I didn’t ask you to send officers.”
“The hospital had already called them.”
Mave could not tell whether that was true. She hated that she had no strength to challenge it.
May you like
After they left, Elena whispered, “He really hasn’t paid anything yet.”
“Yet?”
