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“She has your eyes.” I offered her a kind smile.
She swallowed hard and looked like she was trying very hard not to cry.
“What’s the prognosis?” the elder Mr. Zegas asked.
There was a sharpness about the man that reminded me of Kane. But my Mr. Zegas had a coolness about him where his father was more uptight. More serious.
“Basically, we have to wait and see,” Kane said in frustration.
“The doctor is pleased with how her exterior wounds are healing,” I offered, trying to remain positive.
“She’s not breathing on her own.” Kane’s worry was palpable.
“She will.”
She had to.
“What happened?” his father asked.
I glanced to Kane. I’d follow his lead on how he wanted to answer.
How did we explain that his ex-wife and my sister had plotted to throw a cinder block into Penelope’s car?
Although, they thought Kane and I had an affair, so maybe it was understandable why Alma had come unhinged.
“She was on her way to the Hamptons. Someone threw a cinder block through the windshield,” Kane said tightly.
His mother covered her mouth. “Oh my.”
“Thank goodness it landed in the passenger seat.” Kane shuddered.
“I have contacts in that jurisdiction. I’ll make sure the best prosecutor ends up on the case,” his father said. “Any suspects? You said thrown, not fell.”
I appreciated the man’s enthusiasm for justice . . . and the traits Penelope had that were similar to his. How strange that a person could be like someone they’d never met. It was easy to see she’d gotten some of her aptitude for detail from him.
Kane pressed his lips together. “Do you think there’s a place for justice outside the law?”
From what little Kane had said about his father, I guessed the answer would be no. His father had spent a lifetime trying to uphold the law, not circumvent it.
His father didn’t speak for a long time. He watched Penelope with a careful eye. What did he see when he looked at her? What did he think? Feel?
“Remember Brinx Malone?” he finally asked.
“Yeah. One of my first cases. It was obvious he’d been set up for that kid’s murder,” Kane said. “What about him?”
“I was furious you’d taken him as a client. How could my son defend a cop kid’s murderer?” His father raised his eyes to his son’s. “I did some digging. I had to understand what you saw that I didn’t.”
Kane dipped his brows but said nothing.
“Malone was dirty. A dealer and a pimp. But the more I unearthed, the more troubled I became.”
“He was no angel,” Kane agreed.
“He pissed off some dirty cops when he stopped giving them their take,” he said with disgust. “I read through the police reports a thousand times. Went through the evidence.”
“He got off because the bullet that killed the kid didn’t match Malone’s gun.” Kane rested his elbows on his knees. “I never did figure out where that golden nugget of info came from.”
“I sent it to you.”
