15 Seconds. Andrew Gross

gave ’em to you, honey?” Vance put his beefy palm on the glass partition, hoping she’d do the same, but she just sat there. “For once, do the right thing, hon. Please. Who took my little girl from me?”

      “No …” For a moment she looked back at him and shook her head, and then there was anger in her eyes. “That’s your answer, Daddy? That’s how you’re gonna help me? I’m sitting here, looking at my whole life taken away, and all you want to know is who took your little girl?” She screwed up her eyes and gave him a cajoling laugh, daggers in them. “You done it, Daddy. You took her. You took that little girl. You know what I’m talking about. You want to know so bad? Well, take a long, hard look at the truth, Daddy. It wasn’t the drugs. It wasn’t Wayne. It was you. Take a good look at what you see”—she pushed herself back and lifted her jangling hands—“’cause you’re the one who’s responsible! You.”

      She stared at him, her once-soft, brown, little-girl eyes ablaze. “You think you’re gonna help me …?” She nodded to the guard and stood up, brushing the stringy hair out of her eyes. “What’re you gonna do, Daddy, hurt them all? Everyone who took your little dream away?” She took a step away from him, crushing his heart, though he didn’t know quite how to say it.

      Then she turned and faced him one more time. A smile crept onto her lips, a cruel one. “You may not be in this prison,” Amanda said, like she was stepping on a dying insect to put it out of its pain, “but that don’t mean you’re any freer than me now, does it, Daddy?”

      CHAPTER EIGHT

      My eyes locked on the gamecock, the question throbbing through me if some kind of connection could’ve existed between Mike and the person who had just shot Martinez, or if this was just some crazy coincidence.

      Either way, I drove back on the highway, knowing I was safe in Mike’s Jaguar, at least until someone discovered the body. Which could be any moment, of course. I tried to think how I could explain this. It would hardly be a secret that I had headed to Mike’s after I left Martinez. There was the cabbie; not to mention my prints and DNA probably all over everything. Gail would tell them how we were supposed to play golf that morning. I’d taken his phone and car. As soon as he was found, everything would be linked to me. I veered off the highway at a random exit, pulled the Jag into the lot of a Winn-Dixie food market, and just sat there.

      I needed someone to help me now. Someone I could trust.

      Amazingly, the person who came to mind was Liz.

      My ex-wife and I had stayed on decent terms since we split up. Decent because she had moved on, even if I hadn’t completely. Whatever had once come between us—our diverging careers; that she could be a total bitch at times; and oh yeah, that she had started up with the lead partner in her firm while we were still married—we still trusted each other, at least when it came to Hallie’s best interests.

      Liz was a terrific immigration lawyer; she dealt mostly with people trying to get a green card for their housekeepers or a visa for their relatives from Cuba. But if there was a better person to call who would know how to get me out of this hole, I didn’t know who.

      I dialed her number at work and her secretary, Joss, came on. “Liz Feldman’s office.”

      “Joss, is she there?” My voice shook with urgency. “It’s important!”

      “I’m afraid she’s in a meeting, Dr. Steadman. Can I have her call you back? It shouldn’t be too long.”

      “No, it can’t wait, Joss. I need to speak with her now. I need you to pull her out of that meeting.”

      “Give me a moment,” Joss said, obviously picking up the anxiety in my tone. “I hope that everything’s okay …”

      “Thanks. I really appreciate that, Joss.”

      It took another thirty seconds but finally Liz came on, in her usual bulldog style. “Henry, you just can’t pull me out of a meeting like that. Is—”

      “Liz!” I cut her off. “Listen—this is important. I’m in trouble. Big trouble. I need your help.”

      “What’s happened?” she shot back. Then she gasped. “It’s not—”

      “No, Hallie’s okay,” I said, anticipating her concern. “It’s nothing to do with her. It’s me. I’m in Jacksonville …”

      I tried to explain it all as rationally as I could. How a cop had pulled me over for running a light and began to hassle me. “It was weird—it was like he thought I was someone they were looking for. He pulled me out of the car and told me I was being arrested and slapped a set of cuffs on me …”

      “Arrested? Well, you know how you can run your mouth off, Henry,” she replied in form.

      “Liz, this isn’t a joke. Just listen! And I didn’t do anything—at least not enough to get pulled out of my car. But that’s not what’s important now. The cop was killed!”

      “Killed?”

      “Yes, Liz. Right in front of my eyes, Liz. After he let me go, someone pulled their car around next to his and shot him, point-blank, right through his head. I saw the entire thing.”

      “Oh my God, Henry, that’s horrible. Are you all right?”

      “No, I’m not all right! I mean, I’m not injured. But the police believe I did it!” I told her how the other police cars had been called to the scene and all those crazy kinds of questions they were barking at me.

      “But that’s not the issue now! The guy who did it took off and I took off after him. I saw something on the car, but I couldn’t catch up. So, basically, the cops saw that I was in cuffs in the back of this dead patrolman’s car and then I fled the scene.”

      “Well, you have to go back, Henry. That much is clear. Now!”

      “I did go back, Liz. And they opened fire at me!”

      “Opened fire! My God, Henry, are you all right?”

      “Yes, I’m fine. I mean, I wasn’t hit. But my car was totally shot up. The windows shattered. I managed to escape and ditched it. But now I’m on the run. They think I did it! Not to mention my fucking prints are all over his car!”

      “Your prints?” I heard her struggling to put it all together. “How did your prints get in his car, Henry?”

      “Because I watched him being shot, Liz! While he was writing me out a summons. Because I’m a doctor and I ran back to check on him, but he was already gone. But anyone driving by at that particular moment saw me leaning into his car. Find a news station. I’m pretty sure my name is out there as a suspect.”

      “A suspect? Henry, they obviously somehow believe you were someone else. Whoever it was they were asking all those questions about. All we have to do is clear this up and … So what did you do, after you saw what happened? You called 911, right?”

      “Yes, I called 911, of course. But I also went after the car. There was something about it that caught my eye as I watched it speed away … I don’t know, maybe it was instinct, but suddenly I thought, this son of a bitch just shot someone right in front of me and he’s getting away. And I was the only one who saw it. So I went after him, but I couldn’t catch up. On my way back, I ran into one of the officers who had been hassling me earlier—trust me, Liz, this guy was a total asshole—and he spotted me behind the wheel and pulled out a gun.”

      “You didn’t give him any reason to shoot?”

      “Liz, please don’t be a lawyer here! Maybe I panicked. When’s the last time you had someone aiming a gun at you? The guy had threatened me earlier. So, yes, I pulled the car out of my lane and he opened fire and the window caved in. I mean, what was I going to do? I thought he was trying to kill me, Liz!

      “Look, I don’t know if I made the right decision or not, but I was scared for