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“You’re not at that level, so you have nothing to worry about,” Dr. Miro added. “A brief interview or two, everyone gets to feel good about their city and then the moment passes. There’s so much bad in the world. If you do an interview or two, you’ll make people feel good for a change. Trust me, it’s for the psychological good of the city.”

“May I think about it?” Kieran asked.

“There’s not really time for that, I’m afraid. Or not entirely. You don’t have to speak to anyone if you don’t want to, but the girl you saved—Shirley Martin—has been released from the hospital and is on her way here. We’ve arranged for limited media access, and the police are providing security,” Dr. Miro said.

Kieran wished she’d thought to call in sick and considered claiming illness now.

But a second later Jake rushed in. “They’re here. You really are a big deal, Kieran. Way cool.”

Despite every instinct inside her screaming that she should run, she wound up out in the crowded reception area, where Shirley Martin—adorable, but quite clearly determined to make this a step on her path to fame and fortune—thanked her, as did a very attractive young man who was an assistant to an assistant at the mayor’s office. To Shirley’s credit, Kieran thought she was sincerely grateful, but she also played up the fact that she had almost died and seemed to think she might as well make use of the terror she had endured.

Kieran reiterated yet again that any decent human being would have offered a hand.

Eventually they all left, but not before she was given a huge bouquet of flowers from the attractive assistant to the assistant and a repeat of the heartfelt thanks of her city.

Jake, Dr. Fuller and Dr. Miro beamed at her.

“Um, do we have any real work to do today?” Kieran asked.

“I have to be over at Rikers in an hour,” Dr. Fuller said.

“I have a deposition,” Dr. Miro said. Then she sighed. “Come on, Kieran. Just let us bask in the knowledge that we hired you, and that makes us good judges of character.”

“Thank you,” Kieran said. “And?”

“And what?” Dr. Fuller asked.

“What would you like me to do?”

“Oh, right. You’re going to be interviewing a young woman who’s out on bail,” Dr. Miro said. “She’s coming here under police escort.”

“What did she do?”

“She pulled a Lorena Bobbitt,” Dr. Fuller said. “Hacked it off in the middle of the night. Husband is alive, and it’s been sewn back on. We need to know if there was abuse, or if she was just pissed off because he was sticking it somewhere else.”

“Dr. Fuller! How professional,” Dr. Miro chastised.

“Hey. It is what it is,” Dr. Fuller said. Then he looked at his Rolex. “She’s not due for another few hours, and you are due an extended lunch.”

“Thank you,” she said. “I’ll just take it in my office.”

There was no way in hell she was going out on the street right now. She was going to text Kevin, since he would be bouncing around in his commercial shoot right now and wouldn’t have his phone on him. She was going to tell him that he was picking her up at the end of the day. She wasn’t leaving this office alone.

Great. Now she was paranoid about leaving work.

When Jake was back in reception, the doctors had returned to their offices and she was alone at her own desk at last, she sent her text and sat back.

Free time. She actually had free time. She could pull out the book she’d been reading, the newest in a fantasy series she loved. No, she’d lost the concentration to read.

She just sat at her desk and wondered again if the man in the hoodie had pushed that girl last night—and if he’d intended to push her instead.

And if so...

Why?





CHAPTER

SEVEN

CRAIG AND MIKE spent the day going over witness reports and video from the robberies, convinced that the killers were still out there. Biding their time.

They were probably waiting to hear that the four men who had been caught were being charged with murder.

Late that afternoon, Eagan had called a press conference and reported painfully that the police were still actively seeking the persons who had robbed two jewelry stores in New Jersey and murdered two people. He asked for vigilance and warned that the people they were seeking were armed and highly dangerous, but he also asked people not to panic.

Craig was about to call it a day when Mike appeared in his office doorway.

“You gotta see this!” Mike said.

“What?”

“News replay. You can pull it up on your computer. Search for ‘New York City’s superhero.’”

Craig typed, and up popped Kieran in the ultramodern foyer of the offices of Fuller and Miro, surrounded by people and standing next to the girl she’d saved the night before. She was calm and polite but brief in her answers, all the while looking as if she wanted to be somewhere, anywhere, else. The interview, such as it was, ended, and the reporter turned to the camera. “There you have it, folks. A new motto for the city of New York. ‘Any decent human being would offer a hand.’ Words we should all live by here in the Big Apple.”

After that Kieran got flowers, and Shirley Martin informed the reporter that she’d been asked in for several auditions and was sure she was on her way. She was clearly relishing her fifteen minutes, while Kieran was quite clearly shrinking from hers.