DAN WALKED MELANIE TO THE ELEVATOR, right across the hall from Rosario ’s room. She pressed the button. He leaned against the wall, looking down at her. He was taller than she’d realized, wearing jeans and an old polo shirt that emphasized his muscular arms and shoulders.

“You were unbelievable in there,” he said. “Not just another pretty face. You really turned Rosario around.”

“Never underestimate me, pal,” she said. He smelled clean, like soap. What was she doing noticing stuff like that? She took a step backward.

“ Rosario gives us good information. But this doesn’t come across like a retaliatory hit to me. It doesn’t add up,” Dan said.

“I agree. It could be the perps knew Jed Benson. They had a beef, or they wanted something from him. Maybe Benson represented a Blade in private practice and got in the middle of something, totally separate from the Delvis Diaz case. I’ll contact his law firm. He was at Reed, Reed and Watson.”

“Never heard of them.”

“Oh, they’re one of the biggest. Very fancy. We should interview Benson’s wife, too. She wasn’t there when this happened, but she might know something. If it was a paid hit, maybe there’s some obvious motive we’re just not seeing yet.”

“That reminds me,” Dan said. “The wife is at Mount Sinai with the daughter. That was Randall who beeped me before. The daughter regained consciousness. We should go interview her right away.”

“Fine. I’ll go, but you can’t leave her.” Melanie gestured toward the door to Rosario ’s room.

“I know. Randall’s trying to get a guy from the PD twenty-four hours. With the terror threat and all, the Bureau won’t detail somebody just to baby-sit a homicide witness.”

“It’s critical to have her door covered at all times. She’s in danger. Besides, I promised her.”

“Yeah, I noticed you in there making lots of promises with my resources, missy.” Dan’s tone was light, even flirtatious. He moved a step closer, looking down at her, and she found his nearness disconcerting. The elevator was taking way too long. She jabbed the call button. Don’t just stand there staring at him, say something, anything, she told herself.

“She’s the spitting image of my grandmother. Rosario is, I mean,” she blurted.

“Oh, so that’s why you’re so hot to protect her. Reminds you of good old Granny.”

“No, I want to protect her because she’s our witness. I barely even knew my grandmother.”

“She died when you were little?” he asked idly, obviously in no hurry to go back into the hotel room.

“She lived in Puerto Rico. Well, she lived with us for a while here, but my mom sent her back to San Juan in disgrace. Claimed she was stealing the grocery money to play the ponies.”

“That’s Puerto Ricans for ya. Bunch of track rats,” Dan said. “With us Irish it’s the booze.”

“Hey! Watch it, buster.”

“Take it easy, princess, just joking. You can’t take me too seriously. But hey, don’t worry. I’ll take good care of Rosario for you.”

The elevator finally came, and she hurried on, but he leaned against the door to stop it from closing.

“So what else?” he asked, his tone conversational, like he planned to stand there all day.

“Nothing else. Let go of the door before you set off the alarm, and I’ll see you when you can get to the hospital.”

“What, we can’t shoot the breeze for a minute? This is a very stressful job, you know. I’m more productive when I take breaks.”

She laughed despite herself. It felt good. “Enough. Back to your post, soldier.” She knocked his hand away, watching him smile at her until the elevator door slid closed. Wait a minute, was she flirting? Did that count as flirting? She shook her head hard to erase the image of Dan’s face, but it stayed on her eyes like she’d been staring into the sun.

In the parking lot, the sky was greenish black, the air thick and sluggish. She wished it would just rain already. But the nagging unease in her stomach wasn’t caused by the weather.

Sticking the key in the car door, she stopped and looked up at the ugly hotel looming over her. She counted up five flights and found what had to be Rosario ’s room. The hotel was virtually empty; Rosario ’s was the only room lit up on the entire fifth floor. Anybody standing out here would see that and get a pretty good idea of where to find her.

Melanie scanned the parking lot nervously. It seemed empty, but deep pockets of gloom and the shifting wind wouldn’t let her get comfortable about that. She smelled smoke and looked around for its source. A cigarette butt lay on the ground a few cars over, still smoldering. Somebody must have passed this way in the last few minutes. But where were they now? She hadn’t seen anybody coming into the lobby as she left. Heart pounding, she yanked the car door open, dove in, and smacked the lock down. But then she sat with her hands on the wheel, telling herself to calm down. So somebody dropped a cigarette butt, she thought as she turned the key in the ignition. So what? No reason to think it was Slice. He probably didn’t even smoke. Besides, Dan was guarding Rosario. Melanie trusted Dan completely. She’d better be right about that. Because she couldn’t imagine what she’d do, how she’d feel, if somebody got to Rosario. If she failed Rosario. She couldn’t even think about it. That couldn’t happen.

9

MELANIE SHIVERED AS SHE HURRIED DOWN THE hospital corridor looking for Amanda Benson’s room. The grimy, brightly lit hallway was overly air-conditioned, but that wasn’t the reason for her chill. She’d just had a vision of how Amanda Benson would look lying in her hospital bed, maimed, disfigured, horribly burned. Still reeling from seeing Jed Benson’s corpse last night, she didn’t know if she could handle seeing his daughter.

She knew she’d found the room when she saw the crew-cut cop reading a newspaper in a chair beside the door-the one who’d manned the barricade at the murder scene the night before.

He nodded at her as she approached. “Prosecutor, right? Go ahead.”

Motionless, a thin, pale girl was propped up in the hospital bed in the middle of the room, her eyes half closed and vacant. One arm was bandaged past the elbow, the other stuck with an IV. She breathed softly through her open mouth, and Melanie saw the silver glint of a retainer. So young. A kid, just a kid. The room swam.

“¡Corre!” Papi had managed to say. Run! But instead Melanie took several steps farther into the office. She watched with horror as a fat droplet of blood fell from his chin and splattered on an invoice sitting on the desktop, making a sharp, clicking sound. Why was he bleeding like that?

“¿Papi, por qué estás sangrando? Did you cut yourself?” she asked.

She asked, but she already knew. She knew he was there, she could feel it. A man, a large man, breathing heavily, crouching behind the door.

“Who are you?” someone asked sharply, snapping Melanie back to the present.

In the corner beyond Amanda Benson’s bed, a blond woman and a tall, silver-haired black man had been engaged in urgent conversation. They’d both looked up when Melanie entered, and it was the blond woman who’d questioned her.

“I’m looking for Detective Randall Walker,” Melanie said.

“That’s me,” the man said. He was neatly dressed in slacks and a dress shirt, his face grim and world-weary.

“Melanie Vargas from the U.S. Attorney’s Office.”

“Right, okay, heard a lot about you from my partner. Can we step outside for a minute? Excuse me, ma’am.”

Randall grabbed Melanie’s elbow and propelled her out into the hallway before she could protest.

“Good thing you showed up,” he said in a low voice when they were out of earshot of the door. “I need reinforcements. She’s giving me an unbelievably hard time.”