possess even her memories. Or perhaps because it was so different from his own confused, even violent, heritage. His mother, a Pedrosa, carried the blood of Spanish royalty. His father, the descendant of slaves, had fought with Fidel in the revolution. Anthony's family had been shattered and torn apart. At times he could put his hand on his chest and feel his soul in pieces. But never when Gail was with him.
"Sweetheart, where am I supposed to turn?"
She consulted her map. "Just follow the road till I tell you. Look at this. We're going right through Palm City."
Hardly a city. Anthony glanced about to see only the usual ragtag assortment of suburban gas stations and strip malls, similar to those in any other small town.
"It's where Amber Dodson was murdered," Gail said, studying the map. "Here's White Heron Way. The eyewitness still lives there. I've never talked to an eyewitness in a criminal case. You can give me some ideas, okay? Tomorrow, after we talk to her, let's take pictures of the Dodson house. All right?"
"We?"
She looked at him. "Silly me. I forgot you don't want to get involved. I'll borrow your car and go by myself."
"No, I'll come with you."
"You don't have to," she said. "It's my case."
"Bueno, I'll go for a swim." What a difficult woman she was.
She told him to take the bridge across the river and bear right. Going through town, their progress was slowed by the car ahead of them. A New Jersey license plate, a gray-haired driver. Anthony accelerated around it, then shot past two other sluggish sedans. The road took them past a small airport, then curved north. Most of the traffic had cleared out.
"When are you going to see your client?" Anthony asked.
"I don't know. I haven't had time to think about it."
"You have to talk to him. Get his side of the story. Get to know him. Have you ever been to Florida State Prison?"
"You know I haven't."
"Don't worry about being overheard. They will put you in a little room with him, very private. You'll probably be safe. They leave them in leg irons. Be sure to wear something plain. He hasn't seen a woman in a long time."
She looked around. "Will you come with me?"
"Why?" He laughed. "It's your case."
"Anthony, I'm not going alone. And you can help me talk to the witnesses tomorrow. Okay?"
"Say please."
Gail gave him a playful shove. "Oh, stop it."
At the next intersection he went past a car going thirty in the left lane. Old people. He saw the tops of four white heads and the driver's knuckles on the steering wheel.
Gail looked up from her map. "Take a right on Ocean Drive. That leads to the bridge over the intracoastal."
He glanced into the mirror. "Ay, cara'o."
Bright lights flashed into the car. There was a police car behind them.
Gail turned around. "What did you do?"
"Nothing. I was going the speed Emit." Anthony pulled into the parking lot of a bank and hit the button to lower his window. He turned off the engine and waited.
Blue and red lights pulsed in the darkness, headlights were on high beam, and a spotlight went on. He squinted into the side mirror. A figure in a dark uniform approached, then moved to a position behind the open window. All he could see was a navy blue shoulder. A slender arm.
"Sir, your driver's license and registration, please." A woman's voice, low and steady.
Anthony shifted to get to his wallet. "I wasn't speeding, officer. I am sure of that."
"No, sir. You ran through that red light back there."
"Red light?"
"Your driver's license, sir."
Gail leaned over his lap from the passenger seat. "Oh, my God. It's Jackie!"
The officer's face appeared as she came nearer to look around him. "Gail?"
Unbuckling her belt, Gail shoved the door open. She went around the front of the car, and they met at his window, where Gail held out her arms. "I don't believe it! This is so funny!"
Her cousin allowed a quick hug, then glanced at the passing traffic. "Hang on a second." She went back and turned off the flashers and
"Sweetheart, where am I supposed to turn?"
She consulted her map. "Just follow the road till I tell you. Look at this. We're going right through Palm City."
Hardly a city. Anthony glanced about to see only the usual ragtag assortment of suburban gas stations and strip malls, similar to those in any other small town.
"It's where Amber Dodson was murdered," Gail said, studying the map. "Here's White Heron Way. The eyewitness still lives there. I've never talked to an eyewitness in a criminal case. You can give me some ideas, okay? Tomorrow, after we talk to her, let's take pictures of the Dodson house. All right?"
"We?"
She looked at him. "Silly me. I forgot you don't want to get involved. I'll borrow your car and go by myself."
"No, I'll come with you."
"You don't have to," she said. "It's my case."
"Bueno, I'll go for a swim." What a difficult woman she was.
She told him to take the bridge across the river and bear right. Going through town, their progress was slowed by the car ahead of them. A New Jersey license plate, a gray-haired driver. Anthony accelerated around it, then shot past two other sluggish sedans. The road took them past a small airport, then curved north. Most of the traffic had cleared out.
"When are you going to see your client?" Anthony asked.
"I don't know. I haven't had time to think about it."
"You have to talk to him. Get his side of the story. Get to know him. Have you ever been to Florida State Prison?"
"You know I haven't."
"Don't worry about being overheard. They will put you in a little room with him, very private. You'll probably be safe. They leave them in leg irons. Be sure to wear something plain. He hasn't seen a woman in a long time."
She looked around. "Will you come with me?"
"Why?" He laughed. "It's your case."
"Anthony, I'm not going alone. And you can help me talk to the witnesses tomorrow. Okay?"
"Say please."
Gail gave him a playful shove. "Oh, stop it."
At the next intersection he went past a car going thirty in the left lane. Old people. He saw the tops of four white heads and the driver's knuckles on the steering wheel.
Gail looked up from her map. "Take a right on Ocean Drive. That leads to the bridge over the intracoastal."
He glanced into the mirror. "Ay, cara'o."
Bright lights flashed into the car. There was a police car behind them.
Gail turned around. "What did you do?"
"Nothing. I was going the speed Emit." Anthony pulled into the parking lot of a bank and hit the button to lower his window. He turned off the engine and waited.
Blue and red lights pulsed in the darkness, headlights were on high beam, and a spotlight went on. He squinted into the side mirror. A figure in a dark uniform approached, then moved to a position behind the open window. All he could see was a navy blue shoulder. A slender arm.
"Sir, your driver's license and registration, please." A woman's voice, low and steady.
Anthony shifted to get to his wallet. "I wasn't speeding, officer. I am sure of that."
"No, sir. You ran through that red light back there."
"Red light?"
"Your driver's license, sir."
Gail leaned over his lap from the passenger seat. "Oh, my God. It's Jackie!"
The officer's face appeared as she came nearer to look around him. "Gail?"
Unbuckling her belt, Gail shoved the door open. She went around the front of the car, and they met at his window, where Gail held out her arms. "I don't believe it! This is so funny!"
Her cousin allowed a quick hug, then glanced at the passing traffic. "Hang on a second." She went back and turned off the flashers and
Similar Books
