The In Death Collection Books 21-25 - J. D. Robb [239]
“I’m going up with him, until the uniform reports.”
“Suit yourself. Just stay out of the way. Happy holidays and so forth,” the doctor added as he headed toward the waiting area.
Eve stood outside again, another floor, another door, while they ran their scanners and diagnostics. And while she waited, the elevators opened. Zana rushed out, Peabody on her heels.
“The doctor said he was going to be okay.” Tears had tracked through Zana’s makeup, leaving their trail. She grabbed Eve’s hands, squeezed.
“He’s going to be okay. They’re just running some tests. I was afraid . . . I was afraid—” Her voice hitched. “I don’t know what I would’ve done. I just don’t know.”
“I want you to tell me what happened.”
“I told the detective. I told her I—”
“I want you to tell me. Hold on.”
She walked to the uniformed officer as he got off the elevator. “Subject is Bobby Lombard. Material witness, homicide. I want you with him every step. You check the room they put him in, you check ID on everyone—I mean everyone—who attempts access. He grunts the wrong way, I want to hear about it. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
Satisfied, she went back to Zana. “Okay, we’re going to find a place, have a seat. I want everything. Every detail.”
“Okay, but . . . I just don’t understand any of this.” She chewed her lip, looking over her shoulder at the doors while Eve hauled her away. “Can’t I just stay, wait until—”
“We’re not going far.” She hailed a nurse simply by holding up her badge.
“Good,” he said. “I’m under arrest. That means I can sit down for five minutes.”
“I need your break room.”
“I have a vague recollection of the break room. Chairs, a table, coffee. Down there, make a left. Oh hell, you need a key card. Security’s getting to be a bitch. I’ll take you.”
He led the way, keyed them in, then stuck his head in. “Okay, I smelled the coffee. It’s not all bad.” He headed off down the hall.
“Sit down, Zana,” Eve told her.
“I’ve just got to move around. I can’t sit still.”
“I get that. Go over what happened.”
“Just like I told you before. Like I told the detective.”
“Repeat it.”
As she did, Eve picked apart the details. “You got bumped, spilled coffee.”
“On my coat.” Zana picked up the coat she’d tossed in a chair. “It wasn’t this bad. The first time. More spilled when Bobby . . . God, I can still see it.”
“Was it a bump or a push?”
“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.