Page 44 of NYPD Red 7: The Murder Sorority

“You mean you’d like to go back to work,” Kylie said, jumping in.

“Oh God, I can’t have both of you ganging up on me,” he said. “Yes, I want to go back to work. What’s wrong with that?”

“It depends,” Kylie said. “What did Dr. Lu say?”

“She has me on an antibiotic drip. Some bullshit about preventing infection. She wants me to stay here at least two nights.”

“And what do you want to do?” Kylie said.

“Go home.”

“You keep saying home, but you mean work,” Kylie said.

“Fine, work. I’m worried about the restaurant.”

“Why?” Kylie said. “Your picture is all over the news. By tomorrow morning, you’ll be thebest-knownchef in New York. You’ll have even more people trying to get into your place than you did before.”

“All right, full disclosure,” Shane said. “It’s not just work. I want to get back to you. I miss you. I want to be with you.”

“Me?” she replied sweetly. “Well, then that changes everything.”

“Great. Can you get me out? I know it’s late, but I can catch a cab and be at your place in an hour.”

“Okay, here’s the plan,” she said. “This morning, Zach and I posted two cops at your door to make sure that the shooter doesn’t come to your room and try to finish the job. Are they still there?”

“Of course they’re there. They haven’t budged.”

“In that case,” she said, “you’re fucked. You’re not going anywhere, sweetheart. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

She hung up.

Kylie has a way with men, and I could just picture Shane Talbot lying in bed laughing his ass off.

And if he was anything like I’d been back when I was dating Kylie, he was loving every minute of it.

CHAPTER 29

“I had a lousynight’s sleep,” I said.

It was eight in the morning, and Kylie and I were on the Henry Hudson Parkway on our way to the Golden Grove Home for the Aged, in the Riverdale section of the Bronx.

“That’s what you get for eating shepherd’s pie at ten o’clock at night,” she said.

“I’m serious,” I said. “I couldn’t stop thinking about Sheffield. When we question a murder suspect, it’s always our show, our turf, our rules. But this is different. We can ask this man his name, and we might not get through to him.”

“That’s why we’re meeting Theo,” she said. “He can grease the skids for us.”

“Let’s hope so,” I said, “because with all the pamphlets and training videos the department has on how to deal with people who are suffering from dementia, they don’t have a single one that tells us how to talk to a hit man who’s got Alzheimer’s.”

Therush-hourtraffic on the southbound side was creeping, but we were headed north, so Kylie was cruising along at a comfortable fifty miles an hour.

“If it’s any consolation,” she said, “I had a shitty night’s sleep, too.”

“And you didn’t eat the shepherd’s pie,” I said.

“No. But someone tried to kill my boyfriend, and once they find out they failed, I’m afraid they may try it again.”

Oh, yeah. That.I felt stupid and was about to apologize for my insensitivity when Kylie’s cell rang.

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