Flawless (New York Confidential #1)(32)

Danny took their order, and just as he left them, the door opened. As if just to put the icing on the bizarre cake that the night had become, Kieran saw Julie stand there for a moment looking around. Seconds later her friend saw her and raced over to the table.

Ignoring the three men, Julie stared at her and gasped, “Are you all right? It’s all over the news, that poor girl in the subway... My God, it could have been you. Thank God you were there to save her! But are you sure you’re all right? First the other night, and now this!”

“Julie!” Kieran snapped quickly, praying her friend wasn’t about to start spilling her guts about “the other night.” “I’m fine. These men are from the FBI. Craig Frasier, Mike Dalton and assistant director Richard Eagan.”

Julie looked as innocent as Daniel had. Apparently the two of them still didn’t understand the gravity of what they’d done. Now she took the time to look around the table, her eyes widening. “Oh. Um, nice to meet you. I didn’t mean to be rude a minute ago. Kieran is my best friend...has been since we were kids. Anyway, I heard what happened, and I was so scared.” She stared at Kieran. “You haven’t been answering your phone.”

“Sorry, I didn’t hear it ring. You know how loud it gets in here.”

“That’s okay. I called Danny, and he said you were here,” Julie said, then looked suddenly embarrassed. “Sorry. I’m sure you’re talking about something official, so I...”

She was met by a chorus of “No, not at all” from the three men, who all stood up to offer her their chairs.

Julie took one. Not, unfortunately, special agent Craig Frasier’s chair, but Mike Dalton’s, leaving Craig between the two women.

Kieran didn’t know whether to be relieved or worried that he now had two targets for those suspicious eyes of his.

“Julie Benton,” Craig said, sitting again. He smiled, but to Kieran it looked like a predator’s smile. “Your husband is employed by the store where Kieran was taken hostage, isn’t that right?”

Kieran frowned. Had she said Julie’s last name? Maybe. She didn’t remember. But if she hadn’t, then...did he know?

Ridiculous. He probably knew everything there was to know about the store by now; he’d helped foil the robbery, after all. He undoubtedly knew the names of everyone employed there, along with their spouses, and he’d probably seen pictures of them, too.

She tried to breathe normally.

“Almost ex-husband, I’m happy to say,” Julie said, mincing no words. “And a wretched human being. It’s too bad that he wasn’t there when the robbers were.”

Craig turned to Kieran. “Didn’t you say you stopped by hoping to see him?”

“I didn’t know he wasn’t working at the time,” Kieran said.

“Ah,” he murmured.

“Shepherd’s pie, twice over, and a fish-and-chips,” Danny announced, swinging by and smiling at the agents as if they were old friends. “Sis, you really do need to eat. Did you decide what to order yet? Julie, my love, what can I get you?” he asked.

“Nothing, Danny, thanks. I already ate,” Julie said.

When Kieran shook her head and told him she wasn’t hungry, he shot her a questioning look but didn’t push it. “Well, then, I’m off. Gentlemen, another ale anyone?”

“No, thanks, early day tomorrow,” Craig said, speaking for all of them.

Just then Mary Kathleen called to Declan in her high, sweet brogue, “Declan! Turn up the telly, please.”

A handsome young reporter with gel-slick hair and a plastic smile was in a hospital room with a pretty blonde girl lying in a hospital bed.

“Ron Jacobs here, coming to you live and covering a human-interest story with a very happy ending. This is fifteen-year-old Shirley Martin, the young survivor of tonight’s incident or, as some are calling it, attack on the tracks. I hope you’re doing well, Shirley. All of New York is pulling for you tonight,” he said, moving the microphone toward her face.

She really was a pretty girl, and the whole city really would be cheering for her, Kieran thought.

Shirley smiled tremulously. “I’m fine. They’re just keeping me overnight as a precaution. I’m just so grateful to be alive.”

“Of course, of course. Now, tell me, did you fall—or were you pushed?”

“As I told the wonderful officers who helped me,” she said, “I don’t know. There’s always so much pushing and shoving on the platform, you know? I could hear the train, and the next thing I knew, I was on the tracks and a woman was reaching down to help me. I’m so lucky and so grateful she was there. Whoever she is, she’s an angel. I’d love to meet her and thank her in person.”

“I’m happy to tell you, Shirley, that your angel is New York City’s own Kieran Finnegan. I’m sure she’s out there somewhere, maybe watching this very broadcast.” He addressed the camera. “We’d love to meet her, too, so, Kieran, if you’re out there, give us a call.”

Shirley Martin smiled and said straight into the camera, “Please call. I plan to finish high school, then go to NYU for their performing arts program. I intend to act in film and on Broadway. Thanks to you, Miss Finnegan, I’m alive to get my shot.”

She smiled broadly again, and Kieran had to wonder if they hadn’t practiced their “live coverage.”