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“Simon’s getting just as much O.R. time as I do, but thanks anyway.” I point down the hall. “I’ve got a meeting I need to get to in Emma’s office.” When I see his expression fall, I quickly add. “But we’ll get coffee sometime soon and talk shop.”
Andrew’s choir boy smile is back. “Count on it.”
I head down the hall and take the stairs down the two floors to Emma’s office. When I enter the room the two officers rise from the chairs and turn to look at me. For all the world, they remind me of Tubbs and Crocket from that 80’s Miami Vice cop show.
“Hello Ms. Graham,” says the older Crocket-looking officer. “We met a few weeks ago, but in case you’ve forgotten.” He extends his hand in greeting, “I’m Detective Hart and this is my partner Detective Snyder.”
“Yes, I remember you, both,” I say shaking their hands. “How can I help? I’ve got a ton of patients out there needing my attention.”
“Yes, yes, of course, we won’t take up much of your time,” says Hart. “Please have a seat.”
I walk around the desk to Emma’s chair and lower myself into it.
“You were the first person to reach Sebastian Petrosky on the night of his accident,” Hart begins, “And while we found shell casings in his automobile indicating a gun had been fired from within his automobile, no gun was found on his person or within the vehicle.”
I nod and listen in silence offering nothing.
They exchanged looks. “Are you certain you didn’t see a weapon on Mr. Petrosky?”
“Positive,” I say without flinching. “Are you sure you looked really hard, got up under the seats and everything? Maybe it flew out the window when the car tumbled down the embankment.
“We took the whole car apart and scrubbed the whole area,” Hart said tersely. “If it was there, we’d have found it.”
I shrug. “Like I said, I’ve got a ton of patients out there that need my help. If there’s nothing more,” I say as I start to rise.
“That’s a nice ride you’ve been cruising to work in these days,” Snyder says, his perfect white teeth contrasting marvelously against his rich brown skin. “One has to wonder how a medical student could afford a $200 thousand automobile.”
I’m fully on my feet. “Frankly, that’s none of your business detectives.”
“No,” Snyder says, rising himself. “But what is my business is the dead body we found riddled with bullets fired from Sebastian Petrosky’s gun.”
“Oh,” I say, crossing my arms across my chest. “So, you found his gun after all? Surely you must have otherwise how would you know the bullets were fired from it?”
“The markings from the bullets are consistent with the ones from the shell casings recovered from Petrosky’s car.”
This brings me up short.
“You didn’t know that,” Snyder smirks. “Don’t let the pretty boy good looks and Ivy League degree fool you, Ms. Graham. That guy is bad news, Russian mafia through and through.”
I think about Sebastian’s uncle sitting there leering at me. He had mobster, gangster written all over him. But Sebastian? Was he really capable of murder? Or was he simply defending himself?
“Look, if you cooperate with us now, we’ll go easy on you, no need to disrupt your medical career,” Hart says. “But if you keep stonewalling us, we’ll torch your career.” He leans forward, elbows on his knees. “Now tell us what happened to the gun.”
I look Hart dead in his pale gray eyes. “I haven’t got a clue, but I really hope you find it so you can stop wasting my time.” I move around the desk and head for the door.
“You’re making a big mistake, lady,” Hart calls out.
As I make my way down the corridor, I hear Snyder’s hurried footsteps behind me. “Hey, Madison, wait a sec, please.”
The compassion in his voice gives me pause and I let him catch up to me.
“Look, I know Hart’s being a belligerent ass and those are his good qualities.”
I favor him with a small smile. “What is this? The good cop, bad cop routine?”
He smirks and dimples appear on his cheeks. “Look, I’m going to level with you. From what I hear, you’re one of the top students in this medical institution and people are expecting great things out of you.” He genuinely smiles. “I, for one, am rooting for you. You’ve got the potential to really go far…but you won’t if you get mixed up with the likes of Sebastian Petrosky. Whether you’re involved with the gun or not, you need to stay away from that guy if you value your career, not to mention your life.”
I hold his gaze and those dark brown eyes are emanating a platonic genuine concern for my wellbeing. He’s honestly afraid for me. And now suddenly, I’m afraid for me. What made me remove the gun for Sebastian when I didn’t even know him? What compelled me? I had acted completely on instinct. Just knew that it was the right thing at the time.
