“Come on,” he coaxed gently, “the last thing.”

“I…I was standing on the… No, I was crossing the street…I think.”

Fragments of thought and recollection flitted through her mind like shredded videotape, spliced and jumbled together but making no sense. And full-scale nuclear Armageddon raged between her temples.

“Please,” she whimpered,” my head…pain…please…” She felt tears stinging.

“We’ll give you something for the pain,” he promised. “Head, neck and spine x-rays were negative but we had to make sure you didn’t have a concussion and we had to wait until you were awake to check. You’re plenty banged-up and you’re going to be awfully sore for a while, but considering what happened, I’d say you got off pretty lucky.

“I’m going to admit you overnight just to make sure we haven’t missed anything, but you should be right as rain in a couple of weeks.”

She felt a small needle prick in her arm, almost lost in the pain now engulfing her entire body.

“What…what happened?” she croaked.

“There was an accident,” the voice replied but it was getting muffled and far away again. So was the pain.

Elgin wanted desperately to ask about the accident but she could feel herself stepping on to a cloud and drifting away. In her head, the mushroom cloud fizzled to a firecracker. One thought though emerged from the chaos just at the edge of consciousness.

“Pete,” she mumbled, “Pete…”

“I’m sorry,” the young uniformed police officer apologized, “but only authorized personnel allowed beyond the tape.”

Harm snorted. “I’m looking for Duff Gustafson. Where is he?”

“He’s busy right now with the investigation, sir. If you’d like…”

Spotting his friend, Harm waved a long arm and shouted.

“Yo, Duff.”

A plainclothes detective looked up from the group of uniformed officers semi-circled around him. Seeing Harm, he nodded and raised his hand. Nimbly, Harm ducked under the tape and in a few quick strides, joined the other man.

“Fan out for ten blocks in all directions,” he told the officers gruffly. “Check streets, alleys, parking lots. Anywhere someone might have stashed a car. Ring doorbells and get permission to check private garages. Buttonhole anyone you meet. Anybody gives you grief, run ‘em in for obstruction. I want that car.”

Roarke “Duff” Gustafson was the grand old man of the local detective squad. At least sixty with graying hair and dark eyes, he came across as a barrel-chested bull, seeming much larger than his five-foot-nine stature. Combined with a hard New York accent he could wield like a billy club, he epitomized the quintessential old-line cop. Only people like Harm who’d breached that crusty armor plated exterior knew of the warm, gentle soul inside. He’d also been one of Pete’s Academy instructors and later, a personal friend.

The officers scattered and the detective turned to Harm.

“What kept you?” he inquired, mock cynicism drenching his words. “When I got here and found out about Pete, I figured you’d be leapin’ tall buildings to get here.”

“I left my cape in my other suit,” Harm shot back, picking up the game but knowing the seriousness of the matter. “The central monitoring system picked up the call on the scanner. Soon as they heard the address, they knew we had trouble and called me. I sent Jessica to pick up Sarah and take her to the hospital then came right over.”

“How is he?”

Harm glanced quickly away and then back. “Don’t know yet. Jessica says he’s still in surgery. Right now, that’s all she knows. I told her to call me every half hour…more if…if anything…”

They avoided each other’s eyes for several seconds.

“So what happened?” Harm asked, taking a deep breath and squaring his shoulders.

“Hit and run. Pete and the lady…” he consulted his small notepad, “Elgin Collier, were crossing the street, apparently to catch a cab she’d called from the beauty shop over there.” He gestured in the general direction behind him.

“Cabby said he’d just turned the corner up at Franklin heading this way when a car suddenly came tearing out of that alley.” Again he gestured. “Pete managed to push the lady out of the way but didn’t have time to jump clear himself. EMT’s say the only reason he didn’t die on the spot was because he somehow managed to move just enough the car sideswiped him instead of hitting full on.”

“I suppose it would be too much to hope the cabby got a license plate number? A look at the driver?”

“No such luck,” the detective confirmed. “Paying attention to the pedestrians and the traffic and the car just came outta nowhere, hit ‘em and screeched around the next corner at Pullman. He sped up but by the time he got there, all he saw were tail lights disappearing onto Broadway.”

“What about the car?”

“Big and black. His exact words.”

“Any other witnesses?”

“Beauty shop owner said she didn’t see anything. Heard tires squealing and a ‘thump.’ Went to the window, saw the bodies in the street and ran out. I guess this Collier woman is a friend of hers. Pretty shook up. Saw a car speeding around the corner but beyond thinking it might’ve been black, she couldn’t tell us anything. With lunch over, most people had gone back inside the buildings.”

“Is there any possibility this could have been accident?” Harm pressed. “Drunk driver? Speeder who couldn’t stop?”

“Over here,” Duff ordered, turning and walking a few feet to the middle of the street, Harm following after him. A large pool of blood and a smaller one about two feet away were drying on the sun-baked afternoon asphalt.

“You used to be a cop,” the old detective commented. “You tell me.”

Harm surveyed the scene, tracing the path of the car in his mind, watching it speed out of the alley, engine roaring, striking Pete as he pushed Elgin Collier to relative safety and then continuing around the corner and away. His gaze swept the entire street.

“No skid marks,” he observed quietly.

“Nice to see being a private eye hasn’t ruined your cop sense completely.”

“Pretty obvious.”

“Which brings us to the sixty-four thousand dollar question. Why? I mean, I assume this had something to do with your client, this Collier woman.”

“I can’t breach client confidentiality, Duff, and you know it.”

“Why was Pete with her?”

“Harm’s Way was hired to investigate a problem Ms. Collier has and to provide her with personal security.” He frowned and looked into the middle distance. “Today was supposed to be the last day of the assignment. Pete and Sarah were going away for a few days.”

“What kind of problem?”

“Look, Duff, Ms. Collier isn’t exactly my client. I mean, I was hired for her but not by her. It’s sort of complicated. I understand she’s been admitted to St. Luke’s overnight for observation but her doctor seems to think that aside from some cuts and bruises, she’ll be fine. You can talk to her and she can tell you whatever she feels comfortable with. No doubt my client will want to talk to you as well.

“I can’t say for sure, of course, but if you want my opinion, both personal and professional, yeah, I’d say it was meant for her.”

“Any idea who might have been behind the wheel?”

“Not a clue. Yet.”

“Okay Harm,” the other man agreed, “I’ll leave it at that until I talk to the lady. But this is a police investigation now. Anything you know or find out, you give to us. I know how you feel about Pete. I feel the same way. But I won’t have you pulling some lone wolf, avenging angel crap on me. You’re not a cop anymore. You get sideways of this investigation, I’ll throw your ass in the can. Remember that.”

“Harm,” he growled into the tiny cell phone, almost lost in his huge hand.

“It’s Jessica.”