Split Second (Sean King & Michelle Maxwell 1)

“Doesn’t count. I already know that. What else?”

“Loretta Baldwin told me she hid in the supply closet down the hall from the room where Ritter died.”

King looked interested. “Why?”

“She was scared to death and took off running. Everyone else was doing the same thing.”

“Not everyone,” King said dryly. “I stayed pretty much in the same place.”

“Now, about the elevator.”

“Why do you care about that?” he asked sharply.

“Because it seemed to captivate you! So much so that you didn’t even know there was an assassin standing in front of you until he fired.”

“I just zoned out.”

“I don’t think so. I heard the noise on the tape. And it sounded like an elevator car arriving. And I’m thinking that when those doors opened, whatever or whoever you saw grabbed your attention and didn’t let it go until Ramsey fired.” She paused and then added, “And since that elevator bank was locked off by the Secret Service, I’m guessing that it was a Secret Service agent who was on there, because who else could have done it without being stopped? And I’m betting that agent was Joan Dillinger. And I’m also betting that for some reason you’re covering for her. Would you care to tell me that I’m wrong about all that?”

“Even if what you say is true, it doesn’t matter. It was my screwup and Ritter died because of it. No excuses are good enough. You ought to know that by now.”

“But if you were purposefully distracted, that’s a different story.”

“I wasn’t.”

“How do you know that? Why else would someone have been on that elevator at the precise moment Ramsey chose to fire?” She answered her own question. “Because he knew that elevator car was going to come down, and he knew the person on it would be able to distrac

t you, giving him the chance to kill Ritter, that’s why. He was waiting for the elevator to come before he fired.”

She sat back, her look not one so much of triumph, but of defiance, like she’d shown on TV during the press conference King had seen.

“That isn’t possible. Just trust me. Call it the worst timing in the world, that’s all.”

“I’m sure you won’t be too surprised if I don’t take your word for it.”

He sat there in silence, for so long, in fact, that Michelle finally rose. “Look, thanks for lunch and the wine lesson. But you can’t tell me a smart guy like you doesn’t look in the mirror every morning and wonder,

what if?”

As she started to walk off, her cell phone rang. She answered it. “What? Yes, it is. Who? Uh, that’s right, I did talk to her. How did you get this number? My card? Oh, that’s right. I don’t understand why you’re calling.” She listened for a bit more and then turned pale. “I didn’t know. My God, I’m so sorry. When did it happen? I see. Right, thank you. Do you have a number where I can call you?” She clicked off, pulled a pen and paper from her purse, wrote the number down and slowly sat in the leather chair next to King.

He eyed her quizzically. “Are you okay? You don’t look okay.”

“No, I’m not okay.”

He leaned forward and put a steadying hand on her quivering shoulder. “What happened, Michelle? Who was that?”

“That woman I talked to who worked at the hotel.”

“The maid, Loretta Baldwin?”

“That was her son. He found my name on a card I left there.”

“Why, did something happen to Loretta?”

“She’s dead.”

“What happened?”