Most Wanted by Michele Martinez Page B

grin.
    “
What
?”
    “Nah, it’s just …I gotta watch myself with you. It’s not smart to go telling the prosecutor everything. Only causes trouble. But I can already see that you’re gonna get stuff out of me whether I like it or not.”
    He was looking at her eagerly, in a way she found flattering and uncomfortable at the same time. Could it be that he liked her? Instinctively she scooped up Maya’s photograph, which sat on her desk in a frame that said I LOVE MY MOMMY.
    “She yours? Can I see?” he asked quietly, glancing at her wedding ring. She remembered that she almost hadn’t worn it this morning. Good thing she had. She wouldn’t want to give a wrong impression.
    “Her name’s Maya.” She handed him the photograph.
    He smiled. Everybody always smiled when they saw those cheeks.
    “What a cutie! How old?”
    “Six months.”
    “I always wanted kids. Always thought I’d have a passel of ’em. Guess life never works out how you expect,” he said, eyes somber as he handed the picture back.
    Melanie carefully set it in its place. Dan left to make the copies. When she was sure he was gone, she kissed her fingertip and brushed it lightly across Maya’s picture. She felt strange. Sad and weirdly guilty at the same time. She realized that it was because she found Dan attractive, and finding him attractive brought home to her how damaged her marriage was.
    Dan returned from the copy machine. As he gave her back her list, she looked up at his face and couldn’t help wondering how someone like him ended up single. He must be around thirty and so good-looking—maybe he was just a ladies’ man. Maybe the stuff about wanting kids was only talk. Somehow she didn’t think so, though. His sadness at the mention of kids had seemed genuine, making her identify with him, making her want to hear the story behind his solitude. But she would never ask him about it. She’d keep things on a professional footing—that was obviously the right thing to do. She just had a funny feeling it might not be so easy.
     
8
     
    THE SLICK TILES OF THE LINCOLN TUNNEL flashed by at warp speed as Melanie raced toward New Jersey in a government car, heading for the hotel where the housekeeper who witnessed Jed Benson’s murder was under protection. A few hours after leaving Melanie’s office with the to-do list, Dan had called from the hotel and told her to get there fast.
    “We got a big problem with Rosario Sangrador,” he said, his voice urgent. “She doesn’t want to stay holed up anymore while we look for the perps, but she can’t go back to her apartment while they’re on the loose. Not only is she refusing to testify, she’s threatening to run.”
    “That can’t happen. We need her testimony.”
    “You better get here ASAP and talk some sense into her. Or else I’m gonna cuff her to the doorknob, and she’s not gonna like that.”
    Black clouds hung low in the sky as Melanie pulled into the hotel’s vast parking lot. The modern tan brick building stood apart, rising like a squat mountain from the deserted wasteland of on- and off-ramps. A hot wind coming off the parkway tasted of asphalt and rain as she gathered up her briefcase and slammed the door. She’d come armed with a hastily typed subpoena with Rosario’s name on it. She’d use it if she had to, but it was always better if witnesses testified of their own free will.
    Melanie rapped firmly on the hotel-room door. An eye appeared at the peephole. Dan opened the door, stuck his head out, and checked both ways down the corridor before letting her in.
    “You didn’t tell anyone where you were going, did you?” he asked.
    “Just Bernadette, so she could sign for the car.”
    He frowned. “You filled out a sheet? Those things go to the filing pool. When you get back, you better pull it and white out the destination.”
    “You think so? That sounds kind of paranoid to me.”
    He shrugged, then turned and led her down a cramped foyer into a small room