Kissing the Key Witness

With her eyes still on Tal, Maya pushed the door. “I’m here, Jamie. I’ve got a dozen more patients to see, Lieutenant, and that number doesn’t include any new arrivals. You could be waiting for quite some time.”

He ignored the stream of people rushing past. “Better waiting than lying on one of your tables. Do what you have to, Maya. I’ll handle McGraw.”

Great, she reflected, pushing through the door. Except that McGraw wasn’t the problem.

THE MAN CALLING HIMSELF Falcon crouched under a palm tree behind a lilac bush and watched time crawl by. He was afraid to leave his hiding place, terrified that Adam Tyler hadn’t blocked the shooter’s view, after all.

But no, he had to believe he was still a man of mystery in his boss’s eyes. A wanted, hunted man, but still an unknown commodity.

What would the big man do now? Obvious answer, he’d go for the last person Tyler had spoken to. The doctor who just happened to be his ex-wife. Yeah, that’s what he’d do, all right. And if Tyler had talked, if he’d told her…

Falcon began to hyperventilate. The woman wasn’t a cop, wasn’t trained. A little pain, and she’d crack, like the fatal egg he’d laid today.

He had to run, get away. Let Tyler’s ex die. Beautiful she might be, but beauty wouldn’t help her, couldn’t save her.

Giddy laughter swelled as he regarded the silhouette of the hospital before him. The woman was as dead as her ex-husband.

She just didn’t know it yet.

Chapter Two

“Well, well. If it isn’t Drake’s go-to guy, hanging out in the E.R. at one of Miami’s top three hospitals. Wish I thought you were here because you’d been shot. However, since you appear to be walking upright, looks like I’m out of luck.”

Tal didn’t bother to turn or even look up as Gene McGraw strode into the lounge. He wouldn’t have made such a blustery entrance if there’d been other people around, but for the moment they were alone.

McGraw came to stand so close that his chest almost bumped Tal’s arm. “You’re looking a little unkempt, Lieutenant. Is this the appearance du jour of your homicide cronies up in Tampa?”

Raising a mug to his mouth, Tal turned. “You can’t goad me, Gene. You don’t matter enough at the moment.”

“Oh, that’s right. You and Tyler were pals, weren’t you? Started out together on the street. Quick series of high-profile busts, and it was on to vice. Then a parting of the ways. Butch went to fraud, Sundance to homicide.”

One thing McGraw seldom did was stir Tal’s temper. God knew he had one. It simply couldn’t be bothered squaring off with an overinflated jackass.

“Adam’s dead, Gene. He was shot from behind with a nine-millimeter handgun. You worked with Tyler, so you can be here. But this is a homicide investigation.”

Now McGraw did knock his thick chest into Tal’s arm, just hard enough to slosh coffee onto the floor. He stuck a finger out for emphasis. “This, Lieutenant, is your captain yodeling his swan song and you vying for his job. Or maybe you want to bypass captain and shoot straight to the next level. Cop on a rocket to the gold stars.” He flicked at the shaggy ends of Tal’s hair. “Gonna have to tidy up some, though. Can’t run a department looking like a back-alley gypsy.”

Tal held his stare at close range for several seconds. “Still a homicide investigation, McGraw.”

The detective’s torso bulged. “You listen to me, you—’

“Oh, cool. A hormonal free-for-all. Can I watch?” Maya breezed into the room and went straight to the refrigerator.

Tal admired her savvy entrance—to say nothing of her other assets. Like the thick, coffee-colored hair she wore clipped back from the most striking face he’d ever seen. It never failed to amaze him just how jaw-dropping her features were. The woman very simply commanded attention. He should know. She’d commanded his for seven years.

He knew McGraw missed the glitter in her bluer than blue eyes when the burly detective planted intimidating hands on the counter and leaned toward her. “If you don’t mind, Ms. Santori, I’ll ask the questions. You only have to answer.”

“It’s Santino, and we did this dance earlier.”

“Let’s do it again. Be concise, and we’ll be finished before you know it.”

After a slight hesitation, her lips quirked. Not the best sign in Tal’s opinion. “As you wish, Detective. I’ll give you two minutes.”

McGraw glanced at Tal, who shrugged and rested his butt on the table across the room. He opened with a gruff, “Did your husband—?”

“Ex-husband.”

McGraw’s features tightened. “Did your ex-husband,” he repeated, “mention any names before he died?”

“Yes.”

The detective glowered. “Well?”

“You said concise answers.”

He pushed up to his full height of six feet four inches. “Whose name did he mention?”

“Tal’s.”

“Why was that?”

“Adam wanted him to have his Shelby Mustang.”

Tal’s eyes narrowed, but beyond that he didn’t react.

“That’s it?” McGraw demanded.

She smiled vaguely, as if at some private joke. “Adam and Tal rebuilt that car. Adam loved it. His brother’s been involved in four traffic accidents over the past year. You don’t leave treasure to a fool.”

“No editorials necessary, Ms. Santino. Were there any other names?”

“He wanted his sister to take over his investments and for me to have his condo.”

“Did he—?”

“Say anything unusual or extraordinary?” Anger was creeping in, but only to her voice. She kept those remarkable features schooled and her body, also remarkable, relaxed. “That would depend on your definition of the words. He said he’d tell my mother I was doing well. She died seven years ago.” She capped her juice bottle, glanced at the wall clock. “Tempus fugit, Detective. Your two minutes are up.” Reaching into the pocket of her lab coat, she produced a set of keys. “Yours,” she said and tossed them to Tal.

He caught them left-handed and without taking his eyes off her.

McGraw reached the door first. “Would you recognize Orlando Perine if you saw him?”

Her brows went up. “As a matter of fact, I would.”

“Did Tyler show you a picture?”

“No.”

“Then how…?”