"I'll let you know if I'm successful. At any rate, Samantha's sister has arrived from Colorado. Dominic set up a meeting with her for me this morning." He checked his watch. "I'm going to head out shortly."
"Is Dominic meeting you there?"
"No. He thinks the sister will tell me more than she would tell him."
"But Dominic is Samantha's boyfriend, or whatever you want to call him. Why would the sister hold something back from him?"
"No idea if she would, but that's what's happening this morning."
"All right."
She had a look on her face that told him she had more to say. "What?" he asked as he got to his feet. "Something on your mind?"
"I can't help feeling that this job is taking you further away from your original goal, Max."
"You're not wrong," he admitted. "But Dominic's money is going to fund that goal, and until I can get back overseas, I need to keep him happy. I also have a vested interest in what happened to Samantha. She asked me to meet her at the café. I was late. I thought she'd left, so I didn't stay. It turns out she was in the restroom because someone spilled coffee on her, which I think was deliberate."
"Now I understand. You feel guilty."
"Not necessarily guilty, but I was there. I saw the destruction, and Samantha Barkley wasn't the only one hurt. I want to know who set off that bomb and why."
"Then I'll help."
He nodded. "Great. If none of this is tied to Dominic, and it was just random, I'll back off and let the FBI do their thing, but until I know for sure, I'm all in."
"Let me know how it goes with the sister. I'll keep working on our actual work until I hear otherwise."
"Thanks."
Max headed out the door and into the January cold. The sidewalk was already jammed with people. The constant energy was something he loved about New York, but the density of people and buildings, and the international acclaim of the city had always made it a target. He just hoped the bomber from the café wasn't planning another attack.
After taking a cab downtown, he walked through the Hilton lobby and took the elevator to the twenty-third floor. The woman who opened the door was a softer version of Samantha Barkley. Same dark hair, same bone structure, but Julia's warm brown eyes lacked Samantha's sharp intensity. Julia wore jeans and an oversized Colorado Rockies sweatshirt, and she looked exhausted and terrified.
"Hello, I'm Max Malone. I'm a friend of Dominic Ashford."
"He told me you were coming over. He said Samantha asked you to meet her at the café. Can you tell me why?"
"Why don't you let me in, Ms. Clemons, and we'll talk?"
She stepped back and waved him inside. The room held two double beds, one covered by clothes and an open suitcase, the other untouched. A laptop sat on the desk, and tissues were scattered across the nightstand. Julia gestured toward the small table and chairs by the window.
He sat down across from her. "First, I want to say how sorry I am about what happened, and I very much hope that Samantha recovers."
"Thank you," she said, fighting back tears. "Her doctor doesn't seem very optimistic."
"Did you speak to the doctor this morning?"
"Yes. He said her chances will improve if she can survive the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours."
"I don't know your sister well, but I know she's a fighter."
"I hope she can fight through this. But it's going to be a lot." Her voice broke on the last word, and Max gave her a moment to collect herself. "I'm sorry," she said. "What did you want to talk to me about?"
"I was wondering if Samantha mentioned anyone who was giving her trouble. Any threats she might have gotten at work or at home? Any reason she might have wanted to talk to me?"
"Dominic said you handle security for him. It seems like it would have been about that."
"But Samantha didn't ask Dominic for my help; she asked to meet with me separately, and he knew nothing about it. I'm hoping she told you why."
