Cold Case Cop by Mary Burton

winced as if her shoulder hurt. “No, I didn’t cut in front of someone. I was minding my own business when the black van found me.”
    Alex tried to distance himself emotionally so he could focus on the facts. He wasn’t having much luck. “Did you get a look at the driver?”
    She ran her fingers through her hair, pulled a rubber band from her pocket and tied her hair back. “No. Sunglasses and a hood covered his face.”
    He tightened his jaw and released it. “Where were you headed?”
    She hesitated a second. “South. To Roxie’s.”
    Despite his effort to remain emotionally neutral, he was very worried about her. “When you went off the road, did the driver approach you?”
    She frowned at the memory and swayed a fraction. “No. Thank God. I was really rattled.”
    He took ahold of her arm and guided her to the chair by the exam table. “You should be sitting down.”
    She pressed her fingertips to her temple. “I’m fine,” she said, setting her jaw. “Some jerk on the highway is not going to interfere with my life. He’s already screwed up my evening. I’m going home.” She rose, gingerly set her purse on the exam table and scanned the room with her gaze. “Do you see my shoes anywhere?”
    He spotted the flats under the bed, picked them up but held on to them.
    She smiled weakly as she slipped on the shoes. “Now all I need is a cab and I’ll be set. I need to get home so my aunt doesn’t start worrying.”
    The bit of information pleased him. “ Your aunt is waiting on you?”
    “Yes.” She reopened her cell. “I live on the top floor of the building she owns. She has the second floor, and her bar, Roxie’s, is on the first floor.”
    “Right.” He knew next to nothing about her personal life but found he wanted to know more. “Does she know that you’re here?”
    Mackey looked a bit embarrassed. “No. And I want to keep it that way. She will freak out if she knows what happened. Her sister—my mother—died in a car accident. She’s the reason I can’t spend the night at the hospital. If I do, she will know something is wrong.”
    He grinned. “I always figured you were a free spirit. Not the kind that lives with an aunt.”
    She shrugged. “My aunt is getting older. She needs help with the bar. Living on-site saves me money and helps her out. Do you have the number of the Ace cab company? I can’t seem to remember it now.”
    “You’re not taking a cab. I’ll give you a ride home. Just stay put while I get your discharge papers.”
    She looked genuinely relieved. “Thanks, Kirkland. I owe you.”
    Kirkland spent the next twenty minutes convincing a Dr. Finley that Mackey was leaving. The doctor wasn’t as ready for her to leave as Mackey had said, but finally, with assurances from Kirkland that she’d rest, the doctor relented.
    Forty-five minutes later, a nurse pushed Mackey’s wheelchair to the patient pickup while Alex retrieved his Impala. He came around to the passenger side of the car and helped her out of the wheelchair. Gingerly, she lowered into the seat. He could see she was hurting.
    She started grinning, as if she’d been told a joke.
    He leaned inside the open door. “What’s so funny?”
    Tara shifted in the seat until she was comfortable. “I’ve got bruised ribs. You’ve got a limp. We make one hell of a pair.”
    Alex frowned. “I don’t have a limp anymore.”
    She glanced up at him. “It was barely noticeable this morning. But now that you’re tired it’s more pronounced. Face it, we are the walking wounded.”
    Alex didn’t respond, and closed her door. As he walked around the car he made an effort not to limp. The bit of showmanship cost him. His leg really ached when he got in the car.
    Mackey raised a brow. “Nice show. You almost hid it completely that time.”
    “I don’t have a limp.” He fired up the engine.
    A flash of pain crossed her face as she clicked her seat belt buckle into the lock.
    “It was a mistake to pull you out