The first David heard of the shooting was when he’d tried to get into the building.
They’d turned him back as a matter of course, very edgy cops who were in no mood to hear excuses, and they didn’t care whose wife was doing what where because the building was on lockdown and as far as they were concerned David could fuck straight off.
David wasn’t one to give up easily, but it was obvious the direct approach wasn’t going to work.
He alternated between calling Amy’s office phone and her cell. He finally caught her in her office, and she sent down a bailiff—one she knew personally, she later explained—to escort him inside and up to Amy’s floor.
He stood in Amy’s office doorway, took her in at a glance. She held a hand towel full of crushed ice to the side of her mouth but otherwise looked fine.
He asked anyway. “You okay?”
She scowled at him around the towel. “I think he knocked a tooth loose.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It hurts.”
“I’m very sorry.” David stepped into the room, put his hands on the back of the chair in front of him. “Seriously, you need me to take you home?”
“Home?” She stood, slammed her hand down on the stack of papers on her desk. “When am I ever going to get home? I’m in charge of this circus now.”
David hadn’t considered that, but of course with Bert down, it all fell to Amy.
She hurled the towel of ice at the wall. It hit hard, cracking the glass in the frame of her law diploma and scattering ice. “Shit!”
David raised an eyebrow.
Amy’s shoulder slumped immediately, the heat leaking out of her. She rubbed her eyes. “Oh, God. That’s not fair. Poor Bert. I got word from the hospital a few minutes ago. He’s stable. They say he’ll be okay. It could have been me. I was standing right there.”
She took a deep breath, let it out again raggedly. “It could have been me.”
David circled the desk, lifted Amy’s chin with a finger and examined the red blotch at the corner of her mouth. It would soon turn into an ugly green and purple bruise. “I’m glad you don’t see the women at Anna’s preschool drop-off. I’d hate to have to explain this.”
Amy shook her head, stepped back. “Save the jokes. I’m in no mood.”
“Okay, sorry. But you’re being hard on yourself.”
“I was promoted to do one thing and that was to put Dante Payne behind bars. Without that witness, I can just forget it. We’ve been holding Payne as long as we can without bail, but now we’ve got to cut him loose. I just gave the order ten minutes before you arrived. I don’t even want to describe the rotten taste doing that left in my mouth. God, Bert is shot, and now I’ve let him down. This just sucks.”
“What were you supposed to do?” David asked. “Jump in front of the witness and take the bullet for him? Look, this isn’t your fault.”
“But I should be able to figure something out, come up with an idea to stall or something,” Amy said. “All I can do is sit here like some stupid…” She groped for the right word.
“Just stop. Okay? That’s the problem with being one of the good guys. You have to play by the rules. It’s not your fault.”
She blew out a tired sigh.
“Do they know anything about the bailiff who did it?” David asked.
“Not yet,” Amy said. “The police are looking into it. I mean if you can’t trust—”
A blond woman of about twenty-five stuck her head in the door, pretty and bright, black-framed glasses just a little too hip, David thought.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” she said. “Mrs. Sparrow, you wanted to know when they were taking him out.”
“Oh.” Amy nodded. “Thank you, Jenny.”
Jenny returned the nod and left.
“What was that about?”
Amy didn’t answer. Instead she stared at a spot on the wall, unblinking. David had seen her do this many times before. She was on the razor’s edge of some decision, probably something she knew was a bad idea but some stubborn part of her was insisting. Any minute she would—
Amy stormed past him out of the office.
“Amy!”
David ran after her.
She fast-walked past the elevators and banged open the door to the stairwell, David right behind her. The rapid click of her high heels echoed off cement as she descended.
David harbored no delusions that he’d be able to talk her out of whatever she was doing, but considering her mood, he gave it a try anyway.
“Amy, calm down and think about what you’re doing,” David called after her. “Whatever it is.”
He kept chasing her but not too fast. Frankly, he wasn’t sure what to do if he caught her. His wife didn’t tolerate a lot of interference when she got up a head of steam like this. She was on the warpath and woe unto anyone who got in her way. The best he could hope for was to stay right behind her and try to mitigate any collateral damage.
She slammed through the door and out of the stairwell on the ground floor. She stopped, head turning as she rapidly searched for something. Her frown deepened as her eyes locked onto the object of her sudden obsession.
David followed her gaze to a group of men slowly making their way toward the main exit, escorted out by a pair of police officers.
“Hey!” Amy trotted after them.
They didn’t turn. David sized them up. A bunch of dark suits, lawyers, all surrounding a man in a garish burgundy jacket.
“Hey!” Amy shouted again. “You hear me, Payne?”
Oh, shit. David hurried after her.
She tried to push through the lawyers, but they closed ranks around their client. The two police officers hesitated, not quite able to bring themselves to interfere with the deputy DA.
“How’d you get to the bailiff, huh?” There was a cold fury in Amy’s voice. “You buy him off, Payne?”
One of the lawyers pushed her back. “This is highly inappropriate, Mrs. Sparrow.”
Amy ignored the lawyer, pressed past him with a fresh surge of anger and latched on to one of Payne’s burgundy sleeves, glaring hot daggers at him.
“Get her off him!” screeched the lawyer.
The police were moving in halfheartedly now to break it up, but Amy held on.
“You think you’re untouchable?” Amy shouted. “You think you’re safe?”
Payne moved fast, knocking her hand away and pushing her back. “Get your hands off me, woman.” The hint of an accent.
Then David was there, slipping like a ghost in between the police and the lawyers. He slipped an arm around his wife’s waist, intending to haul her away gently but firmly. “Easy. I got you. Forget it. Come on.” She resisted, but not enough to stop him.
David felt a hard shove to his shoulder.
“Keep your bitch under control.”
David spun, grabbed the burgundy jacket by the lapel. Maybe one good punch. He could do that much for his wife, couldn’t he? Maybe he’d get a little satisfaction out of it himself.
David Sparrow and Dante Payne locked eyes.
“Are you truly so eager to die, little man?” Payne said quietly only for David’s ears. “Or do you want to watch your woman go first?”
Violence welled up within David, threatening to break through his control, and it would have if he hadn’t felt many hands from behind, pulling him back.