“About five-ten,” Rachel put in. “Maybe a hundred and thirty. I didn’t get a good look at him, but he had light hair. Sandy blond, I think. The third one was about the same height, but stockier. At a guess, I’d say the guns made him nervous. He was sweating a lot.”

“How about age?”

“Hard to say.” She looked at Zack. “Young. Early twenties?”

“About. What are the chances of catching them?”

“Better with this.” Alex closed his notebook. “Look, I won’t con you. It won’t be easy. Now if they left prints, and the prints are on file, that’s one thing. But we’re going to work on it. I’m going to work on it,” he added. “You could say I’ve got a vested interest.”

“Yeah.” Zack looked at Rachel. “I guess you do.”

“Not just for her,” Alex said. “I’ve got a stake in the kid, too. I like to see the system work, Muldoon.”

“Mr. Muldoon?” A woman of about fifty dressed in green scrubs came into the room. When Zack started to rise, she gestured to him to stay where he was. “I’m Dr. Markowitz, your brother’s surgeon.”

“How—” He had to pause and try again. “How is he?”

“Tough.” As a concession to aching feet and lower back pain, she sat on the arm of a chair. “You want all the technical jargon so I can show off, or you want the bottom line?”

The next lick of fear had his palms damp. “Bottom line.”

“He’s critical. And he’s damn lucky, not only to have had me, but to have taken a bullet at close range that missed the heart. I put his chances now at about seventy-five percent. With luck, and the constitution of youth, we’ll be able to bump that up within twenty-four hours.”

The coffee churned violently in his stomach. “Are you telling me he’s going to make it?”

“I’m telling you I don’t like to work that hard and long on anyone and lose them. We’re going to keep him in ICU for now.”

“Can I see him?”

“I’ll have someone come down and let you know when he’s out of Recovery.” She stifled a yawn and noted that she’d spent yet another sunrise in an operating room. “You want all the crap about how he’ll be out for several more hours, won’t know you’re there, and how you should go home and get some rest?”

“No thanks.”

She rubbed her eyes and smiled. “I didn’t think so. He’s a good-looking boy, Mr. Muldoon. I’m looking forward to chatting with him.”

“Thanks. Thanks a lot.”

“I’ll be checking in on him.” She rose, stretched, and narrowed her eyes at Alex. “Cop.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I can spot them a mile away,” she said, and walked out.

CHAPTER TWELVE