Memory in Death (In Death #22)(79)

"Oh, I don't know. A bump, I guess. So many people. In part of my head I was thinking it was so exciting. Being out, the crowds, the windows, the noise. We had the soy dogs, and the packages. We should've gone back. I know Bobby wanted to. But—"

"You didn't. Did Bobby say anything? Did you see anything, before he fell?"

"No... I was fussing with my coat, looking down and thinking how I hoped it would come out. I think he held a hand out, like he was going to take the coffee so I could deal with the stain. Then he was falling. I—I grabbed for him," she managed, as her voice began to break. "Then the horn, and the squealing. It was horrible."

Her shoulders shook as she dropped her face in her hands. Peabody stepped up with a cup of water.

Zana took a sip and a couple of shuddering breaths. "People stopped to help. Everyone says how New Yorkers are cold and kind of mean, but they're not. People were nice, they were good. They tried to help. The police came up. The ones who came with us. Bobby was bleeding, and he wouldn't wake up. The MTs came. Do you think they'll let me see him soon?"

"I'll check." Peabody turned toward the door, stopped. "Do you want some coffee?"

"I don't think I'll ever drink another cup." Zana dug in her pocket, pulled out a tissue. And buried her face in it.

Eve left her there, stepped out with Peabody.

"I didn't get any more out of her either," Peabody began. "She's clueless about the fact that it may have been a deliberate attack."

"We'll see what Bobby says. The record?"

"Baxter was taking it to the lab personally and I got the homers off the coats."

"Good thinking."

"I've got his list of wits, and copies of statements taken on-scene. The cabbie's holding at Central. His license is valid. Been hacking for six years. Few traffic bumps. Nothing major."

"Head down there now. Get his initial statement, and his particulars for follow-up. Spring him. Write it up, copy to me, copy to Whitney." Eve checked the time. "Shit. Nothing more to be done. I'm sticking here until I interview Bobby. Get it wrapped back at the house, then go home. Merry Christmas."

"You sure? I can wait until you report in."

"No point. If there's anything, I'll let you know. Finish packing, go to Scotland. Drink... what is it?"

"Wassail. I think it's wassail, especially over there. Okay, thanks. But I'll consider myself on call until the shuttle takes off tomorrow.

"Merry Christmas, Dallas."

Maybe, she thought, and looked back toward the break room as Peabody walked away. But some people were going to have the crappiest of holidays.

She waited an hour while Bobby was tested, transferred, and set up in a room. When she walked in, he turned his head, tried to focus with glassy eyes that were rimmed with red. "Zana?" he said in a voice slurred with drugs.

"It's Dallas. Zana's fine. She'll be here in a minute."

"They said..." He licked his lips. "I got hit by a cab."

"Yeah. So how'd that happen?"

"I dunno. It's mixed up. I feel really weird."

"It's the meds. The doctor says you're going to be fine. Got some broken bones, and took a good crack on the head. Concussion. You were waiting for the light. To cross the street."

"Waiting for the light." He closed his bruised eyes. "Packed in on the corner like, what is it, sardines.

Lots of noise. Zana made a noise. Scared me."

"What kind of noise?"

He looked up at her. "Like, ah..." He sucked in his breath. "Sorta. But she just spilled some coffee. Coffee and dogs and bags. Arms loaded. Gonna get a hat."

"Stick with me here, Bobby," she said as his eyes fluttered closed again. "What happened then?"

"I... she gave me that smile. I remember that smile—like, 'Oops, look what I did now.' And I dunno, I dunno. I heard her scream. I heard people yelling, and horns blasting. I hit something. They said it hit me, but I hit, and I don't remember until I woke up here."

"You slip?"

"Musta. All those people."

"Did you see anyone? Did anyone say anything to you?"

"Can't remember. Feel weird, out of myself."

His skin was whiter than the sheets that covered him, so that the bruises and scrapes seemed to jump out—and slapped straight into her guilt.

Still, she pressed. "You'd been shopping. You bought a tree."

"We had the tree. Cheer ourselves up some. What happened to the tree?" His eyes rolled, then refocused on her. "Is this really happening? Wish I was home. Just wish I was home. Where's Zana?"

Useless now, Eve decided. She was wasting her time and his energy. "I'll get her."

Eve stepped out. Zana stood in the corridor, wringing her hands. "Can I go in? Please. I'm not going to upset him. I've got myself settled down. I just want to see him."

"Yeah, go on in."

Zana straightened her shoulders, put a smile on her face. Eve watched her go in, heard her say, in cheerful tones, "Why, just look at you! You got some way of getting out of buying me a hat."

While she waited, she tried the lab. Bitched when she was informed she couldn't have what she wanted until the twenty-sixth. Apparently Christmas overrode even her wrath.