After Romeo stood from the wheelchair, the nurse wasted no time whipping around and heading back inside. He’d just pushed through the automatic doors when he called to Romeo over his shoulder. “N’Sync said it best,bye, bye, bye.”
Romeo snorted. “Don’t act like you won’t miss me!”
In answer, Andre shot him the bird without ever turning back to give him one last look.
Laughing softly, Doc held the taxi’s back door wide for Romeo. But instead of sliding inside, Romeo placed a hand on top of the open door. “Let’s go to Miami. I want to be there for Mia when she talks to her mother tomorrow.”
“That is a bad idea for two very good reasons,” Doc told him firmly. “One, from the sound of the way you and Mia left things, you showing up would probably cause hermoreemotional distress instead of less. And two, you really shouldn’t be making that trip. I know you think you’re superhuman, but you need to go home, rest, and recuperate. Mia will be back on Wayfarer tomorrow.”
If looks could kill, Doc would’ve been six feet under. “I hate it when you’re all reasonable and rational,” Romeo grumbled.
“I know. Clearheaded practicality is my cross to bear.”
“You could come with me.Cami lives there.” Romeo offered this up like a prize, and for some reason, thoughts of the sexy lawyer, thoughts of flying to Miami and surprising her, caused Doc’s nuts to suck back up into his body.
“And that right there is thethirdreason why it’s a terrible idea to go there.”
Chapter 26
Later that evening...
Cami nodded to the bartender when she saw Mia push through the front door with its painted lagersign. Even though the bar was just around the corner from her office, it was too divey for most of her coworkers. Which meant she didn’t have to worry about any of them stumbling in and trying to talk shop.
That suited her just fine since she’d done nothing but work her ass off since hearing that Alexandra Merriweather and Mason McCarthy had pinpointed the cipher device—and she had the crick in her neck, the pain in her lower back, and the eyestrain to prove it. She’d read every brief and ruling and argument she could get her hands on regarding maritime salvage laws in preparation for when Mason and Alex were allowed in to view the device andhopefullydecode the message left in the captain’s journal.
But besides the bar being a reprieve from the probing questions of curious colleagues, it also reminded her of all the holes in the walls she’d grown up with on Staten Island. And even though she hadn’t been a New Yorker in more than six years, she still found herself seeking out places that gave her a taste of home. The sense of the familiar. Especially when she was feeling out of sorts.
And I’ve been feeling out of sorts ever since coming back from Key West.
For the first couple of days, she’d blamed her general malaise on the fallout from everything she’d experienced. Plane crash, near drowning, seeing two men shot dead...That’s more than enough to make anyone suffer a little anxiety and depression.But as the days had worn on, she’d began to think her down-in-the-dumps attitude might be due to something else.
Of course, she refused to delve too deeply into what thesomething elsemight be because she was fairly certain she didn’t want to know the answer.
When the marine archeologist looked around the dimly lit space, Cami waved and shouted, “Mia!” over the hard-driving sounds of Greta Van Fleet pounding out of the jukebox.
Mia smiled and began weaving her way through the wobbly tables and rickety chairs toward the bar. Compared to the men and women fresh off work and still wearing their dark suits, Mia looked bright and pretty in a flowing white skirt and a yellow, short-sleeved sweater. Like a delicate bud of jasmine among a field of dark, thorny holly bushes.
A gin and tonic arrived in front of her as soon as she grabbed the barstool beside Cami—Cami remembered Mia saying it was her favorite—and she offered Cami a word of thanks before immediately sticking the cocktail straw between her lips and giving the drink a long pull.
“Careful,” Cami cautioned. “I had Eric pour the booze in that drink in direct proportion to my gratitude to you for calling me up and giving me an excuse to cut out of work early. Proceed with caution.”
Mia made a grateful soundingahhhbefore setting the cocktail down on the polished mahogany bar top and wincing. “Sorry. I should’ve started with, ‘Hey Cami. Good to see you again. Thanks for meeting me for a drink.’ But after the day I’ve had, I was in sore need of a little liquid fortitude.”
Cami lifted an eyebrow and took a small sip of her old-fashioned. “Care to elaborate?”
Mia made a face. “Well, for starters, the police found my mom.Finally.That’s why I’m here. Detective Dixon and I flew in so we’d be on hand as soon as the county jail opens tomorrow. He’s champing at the bit to interview her. But he’s promised I can go see her first.”
Cami glanced behind Mia toward the front doors. “Dixon? You didn’t bring him with you, did you?”
If Cami was a bulldog when it came to examining and cross-examining people, then Dixon was ajunkyardbulldog. Passing the bar exam was less stressful than sitting through his endless quizzing and questioning and re-quizzing and re-questioning.
“No.” Mia shook her head. “He’s having dinner with friends. He used to work here in Miami. Narcotics, I think.”
Cami’s shoulders relaxed. Of course, one look at Mia’s pinched face had her tensing again out of sheer sympathy. “What are you going to say to your mom?” she asked tentatively, trying and failing to imagine what the woman must be going through.
For all of Cami’s bad blood with her father, she couldn’t conceive of a world where he would try to kill her. For heaven’s sake, he’d turned down the deal the Feds offered him, a deal that would have significantly shortened his prison sentence, just to keep hersafe.
Mia’s upper lip curled. “It’s less what I’m going to say to her, and more what I’m going to ask her.”
