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His head slumped back to the pavement, and his hold on Jack's hand slackened.
Sirens wailed as emergency vehicles squealed to a stop on the edge of the crowd. Voices of authority directed people away from the body, and the police began rounding up witnesses.
As the EMTs began working on Diaz, Lola remained crouched on the ground. Jack touched her shoulder. "You need to talk to the cops."
Lola struggled to her feet, and Jack put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close to still her trembling. Her head fell against his chest, and he rested his chin on top of her hair, the stubble of his beard catching the dark strands.
He took a few steps toward the officer collecting statements. "She saw the car also."
The cop looked up from his pad of paper, his eyes meeting Jack's. "You, too?"
"No, just Dr. Famosa." Until Jack found out what Diaz meant by whispering Prospero, he planned to keep his low profile.
Lola didn't try to hide the fact that Emilio Diaz had been on his way to meet her for coffee. Diaz's receptionist would give them that information, anyway, but the woman in the office didn't know Jack's name, unless Diaz had told her. And it didn't seem as if Diaz wanted his receptionist to know anything about Jack Coburn.
"Did anyone get a license plate on the car, officer?" Lola's stiff fingers dug into Jack's arm.
"The car didn't have a license plate--big coincidence if this was just an accident." The cop tapped his pen against his chin. "Of course, a man like Emilio Diaz had a lot of enemies. I'm sure you know all about that, don't you, Dr. Famosa?"
Two spots of color dotted Lola's cheeks.
So much for keeping a low profile. Did the entire city of Miami know Lola's father?
Jack stepped in front of Lola, blocking her from the cop's beady, inquiring eyes. "Dr. Famosa has told you all she knows. Can she leave now?"
"Yes, and who...?"
Jack spun on his heel and pushed Lola in front of him. He placed his hand on the small of her back and propelled her across the street toward the underground parking garage.
Neither one of them said one word until they collapsed on the leather seats of Lola's Mercedes and shut and locked the doors.
Lola clutched the steering wheel, staring straight ahead into the cement wall of the garage. "What did Emilio say to you?"
"Prospero."
"Prospero? Like, like..."
"Like the character in Shakespeare's The Tempest." Where had that come from so quickly?
Tilting her head, Lola released the steering wheel and flexed her fingers. "Were you an English major before you became a spy?"
He lifted a shoulder. "You're asking the wrong guy. Do you think it's some kind of clue, or the name of a company?"
"Given Emilio's background, I doubt he's familiar enough with Shakespeare to use Prospero as a clue. It must have some specific meaning. Could it be the company you work for?"
"I thought you told me I was a freelancer." He dragged his fingers through his hair, digging his nails into his scalp. How could he have felt apprehension about getting information from Diaz? If the man died, he'd be back to square one.
"What does it mean, Jack?" Lola dropped her hands to her lap and studied her palms as if looking for the answers in the delicate lines that crisscrossed her skin. "Why did someone go after Emilio? The car had dark-tinted windows, no license plates and didn't stop after hitting a pedestrian. Like the cop said, this was no accident."
"The cop also said Diaz had a lot of enemies."
Lola snorted. "If you're going to sugarcoat the situation, put a little more conviction in your voice. You don't believe that any more than I do. Someone was watching Emilio or following us, and they tried to stop him from talking to us."
"But the hit wasn't completely successful. He was still alive when the paramedics took him away."
"He's out of our reach. Even if he recovers enough to talk, we won't be allowed anywhere near his hospital bed."
"Because we're not family?"
"That and the fact Emilio's wife hates me."
Jack quirked one brow. "Something you did?"
"More like who I am. She couldn't stomach her husband's association with my father, even though that association kept her in designer clothes and luxury cars and her kids in private schools."
