Mixed Up with the Mob

“He seems fine…right?” What did he know about kids?

She gave a tight nod. “The car didn’t hit him. I made sure of that.”

It struck him then that he’d failed to take note of the license plate on the Lexus. He made a face.

The woman inched away from him.

Great. He’d scared her. “Sorry. I just thought of something…important.”

She scooted away a little more. “Please. Don’t let me keep you. I’m sure you have somewhere to go. We’re fine.”

Considering they were sprawled all over the middle of the street, David didn’t agree. But she did have a point—one, only one. “That reminds me…”

He thanked the Lord for the lack of traffic, pulled his cell phone from his pocket, and dialed his grandmother. In a few, terse sentences he let her know an emergency had come up and that he’d be late. She knew him well enough not to doubt the tone of his voice.

As he turned back to the victims, he heard distant sirens. He breathed a sigh of relief.

“You’re going to be okay,” he told the frightened two.

The little boy’s eyes looked like huge dark holes in the poor light. “You a doctor, mister?”

David grinned. “No, but my mother sure wanted me to be one.”

The tyke frowned. “Did she make you time-out ’cause you dinn’t ’bey?”

“No, not for that. But I spent hours and hours doing time-outs for all kinds of other things.”

A spark of mischief rang in his “Really?”

“Don’t bother the nice man, Marky. I’m sure he has to get going.”

“Aunt Lauren! You know you shouldn’t call me that.”

The sirens wailed louder even than the boy’s complaint.

Lauren tsk-tsked—nervously, to David’s ear. “I’m so sorry, dear. Aunt Lauren forgot this time. It won’t happen again. I promise.”

Mark aimed narrowed eyes at his aunt. “Double-dip promise, with a cherry and whip cream on top?”

“Double-dip promise, with a cherry and whipped cream on top.”

David was charmed, but not so much that he forgot what had to come next.

“Don’t you think you’d better call his parents?” he asked. “The investigating officer will be here soon, and he’ll want to ask you a million questions. The boy, too. The police will need parental permission to question him.”

The smile the banter had brought to Lauren’s face vanished. “Oh, dear. We don’t need the police. I’m fine, and so is Mark. Nothing happened here.”

“What do you mean, nothing happened here? That idiot ran right at you—and hit you! Then he pulled a hit-and-run. In my book that’s two for one. Crimes, that is.”

Alarm again filled her face. “Oh, no. Really. I’m sure the driver just skidded on the wet pavement. It gets slippery when it starts to snow like this.”

David snorted. “Look, lady—Lauren?” When she nodded, he continued. “The guy started out behind me. The minute you stepped into the crosswalk—on a green light for me, mind you—he hit the gas good and swerved around me. He was heading for you, and there’s no other way to call it. This was no accident.”

“You must be mistaken,” she argued in a shaky voice. “It couldn’t have happened that way. I’m sure it was the snow and…”

She stopped.

Shook her head.

Tightened her hold on Mark.

“Please,” she whispered. “Send them…all of them—” she gave a little wave “—away. I’m fine. Nothing happened here….”

Despite her urgent denials, David heard no conviction behind Lauren’s words. Something wasn’t right. Why was she so determined to avoid the paramedics and the police?

What had really happened before his eyes?

“Look, lady. I know what I saw. And I investigate crime for a living. My powers of observation are pretty sharp. So why don’t you stop all this nothing-happened nonsense, and tell me what’s coming down?”

“Nothing—”

“I’m a witness to your stepping into traffic with a child. I can press charges for child endangerment.”

“No…” Her voice broke on a sob. “Please. I’m all Mark has left. His mother died three years ago, and it’s only been three weeks since we buried my brother.”

David gave a brief nod. “I’m sorry to hear that.” He took a deep breath and withdrew his ID. “But that doesn’t change what I saw. I’m with the FBI. Please tell me what just happened here, why you’re so determined to avoid an investigation.”

Another sob ripped through her. Fear left her features drawn, pale, eerie-looking in the weak glow of the streetlight on the opposite corner across the street. Unless he was much mistaken, her shivers intensified.

She began to shake her head.

He glared.

Mark reached up to pat her cheek. “You ’kay, Aunt Lauren?”

She tried to smile at the boy, but failed. “Fine, Marky. I’m fine.”

“Lady—”

“My name’s Lauren, Lauren DiStefano.”

“Okay, Lauren DiStefano. I’m David Latham. Now why don’t you tell me what you think happened here? What you really think happened here.”

She took a deep breath, forced a…maybe she meant it as a smile, but from his point of view, it looked more like a grimace. She met his gaze.

“My brother’s—” She shut her eyes, shook herself, then squared her shoulders. When she looked at him again, some corner of David’s mind took note of her clear green eyes.

But it was her words that took him by surprise.