Silent Witness. Kay David

      Her nervousness suddenly blooming, Andrea crossed her arms, leaned against the wall and watched the two men leave. The minute they turned the corner, she groaned out loud.

      Grant was up to something. The only question was what.

      THEY RODE THE ELEVATOR down, the tall fireman talking easily about nothing important. Grant knew a lot of men like Alex Shields; he’d grown up around them because his father had been a cop. The officers in Grant’s Homicide division were like Shields, too, for the most part. Gregarious, outgoing, friendly types. Grant didn’t know why he was so different from them, but he was. All those years in Vice had a lot to do with it, he was sure, but it went deeper than that. In the end, he’d found himself more comfortable in that life than his real one, and that’s when he’d had to leave it.

      They reached the first floor and Alex pointed to the left. “The cafeteria’s right down there. You can’t miss it—just follow your nose.” He stuck out his hand but Grant didn’t take it.

      “Are you in a hurry or do you have a minute?” he asked instead. “I’ll buy you a cup if you’ve got the time.”

      The fireman hesitated.

      “I’d like to ask you a few questions,” Grant explained. “About Vicki and the accident. I need some details but I didn’t want to bother Andrea. I didn’t want to upset her.”

      Shield’s frown cleared. “Of course,” he replied. “I’ll help as much as I can.”

      His words confirmed the assumption Grant had made when Shields had come in the room and Andrea had greeted him. They were more than just friends, good or otherwise. Grant filed the information away for later examination.

      They got their coffee then sat at a small table near the window, Grant wishing his cup held something stronger. He took a single sip and set the mug aside. It’d been nothing but an excuse anyway.

      “I want you to tell me what you saw when you went inside Vicki’s house.” He sat back in his chair, fully aware he wore what Parker called his “interrogation” look. Intense, dark, focused. “Tell me any details you can remember, no matter how small.”

      Shields faced him squarely. “I saw a hellacious mess,” he answered. “That armoire weighed a ton—your son was lucky as hell he didn’t die, too.”

      “Did it look like they’d been moving the thing?”

      “Hard to say exactly,” the fireman answered with a shrug. “The bottom of the piece was out from the wall about a foot or two. I guess they could have been positioning it.”

      “Had there been things on the shelves?”

      Shields narrowed his eyes as he clearly thought over the question. “Yeah,” he said finally, “I think there might have been. I saw some broken dishes in the debris, a cup or something. Maybe a plate.” He nodded a little more confidently. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure it had stuff in it.”

      “Where was Vicki?” he asked quietly.

      “Close to the base,” Shields replied. “She was probably right next to it when it fell. Kevin was about two, maybe three feet behind her.”

      “On their backs or their stomachs?”

      Shields frowned for a moment before answering. “Stomachs,” he said finally.

      Grant registered the information in silence, then spoke slowly. “She’d had the piece retrofitted with wall brackets so it’d stay up in case of an earthquake. Did you see whether or not those had been unscrewed?”

      “I didn’t notice,” the fireman said. “We had our hands full getting them out. I could call the Courage Bay Police Department and have the examiner phone you, though. I know they sent a unit to the scene so they could file a report.”

      Grant shook his head. “I appreciate the offer but I’ll contact him myself a little later.”

      He could feel the other man’s curiosity. Grant couldn’t satisfy it, though. Shields was too close to Andrea and anything Grant said would find its way back to her, he was sure.

      “What else can I do?” Shields asked.

      Grant met the fireman’s gaze. It seemed steady and honest and Grant had the fleeting thought that Alex Shields was just the kind of man a woman like Andrea Hunt would hook up with—good-looking, strong, a real all-American type. An unexpected pang of regret hit Grant, but he pushed it aside and shook his head. “I think I can handle it from here.”

      THE EVENING PASSED QUIETLY, Andrea on one side of Kevin’s bed, Grant on the other. From time to time she looked at the man who sat in the shadows but for the most part, they each pretended the other one wasn’t there. For Andrea, that wasn’t an easy task.

      Grant seemed to dominate the space—not because of his physical presence but because of his overwhelming intensity. She felt as if she could hear his heart beat and see his blood rushing through his veins. The reaction was weird and she told herself she was imagining things, but as the hours passed and the hospital became quieter, the feeling grew. After a while, she decided their bodies had synchronized in some strange fashion, her heart matching his rhythm, his breathing keeping time with hers.

      The strident sound of the telephone brought her out of the bizarre thoughts. The unit was on Grant’s side and he answered it before the first ring stopped.

      Andrea’s eyes went to the sleeping child in the bed. He was completely under. Nothing could have penetrated his exhaustion, or the painkillers the doctor had given him.

      “Andrea?” Grant spoke her name in a whisper as he held out the phone. “It’s your mother….”

      She nodded and came around the bed, taking the receiver from him. “Mom?”

      “I had to call and see how Kevin was,” her mother said. “Is everything all right?”

      “He’s sound asleep,” Andrea answered. “They put the cast on and brought him up after you guys left. He was too tired to do anything but zonk out.”

      “That’s good,” she said with relief in her voice.

      Andrea wished she could blurt out her concerns over Kevin’s future, but with Grant five feet away, she didn’t dare. The discussion would have to wait until she had her parents alone.

      “Are you okay?” Andrea asked instead.

      “It’s been tough,” her mother answered. “We…we took care of everything.” She made a sound halfway between a cough and a sob. “The services will be day after tomorrow. In the afternoon.” She recited the details with excruciating precision. Even though Andrea didn’t want to hear about caskets and flowers and music, she let her mother talk until everything was out.

      “Are you going to stay there tonight?”

      Andrea glanced at Grant. He’d switched places with her and was now sitting in the chair she’d abandoned. His cheeks were dark with unshaven stubble, the circles under his eyes darker still.

      “Yes, I am,” Andrea said firmly. “I want to be here if Kevin wakes up and gets scared.”

      “Good, good… I think that’s a good idea.”

      The Hunts were a tough bunch but Andrea could hear the strain in her mother’s words. They said goodbye and Andrea hung up the phone.

      GRANT WATCHED ANDREA. When he’d returned to the room after his conversation with Alex, she’d been quiet and subdued. He hadn’t tried to talk to her but sooner or later, he’d need to ask her some of the same questions—and probably more—that he’d asked the fireman. If something had happened in that house other than an accident, Grant had to know. Until he was sure, though, he wasn’t going to say a word to Andrea.

      He stood and stretched, then looked down at Kevin. He was sleeping peacefully. He caught Andrea’s