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Had his cell phone flown free in the attack? Had he crawled toward it when he regained consciousness? Had he been afraid?
She looked toward him as he knelt on the pavement, running his fingertips across the ground. “Anything?” she asked as she approached.
Not looking up, he shook his head. “I remember chasing him here, then … nothing.”
“So he was the one who hit you?”
“No.” Slowly, he straightened. “He was running away from me when I got hit.”
“The accomplice, lying in wait. He clobbered you.”
“We’d figured that already, but it’s good to have confirmation.” Laying his hand on the back of his head, he winced. “Though I swear I can feel the blow all over again.”
“Meds haven’t kicked in?”
“I see two of you, so I think they have.” Though he turned away, she heard him mutter, “Not that double vision of you is a bad thing.”
She ignored the compliment. Given their unsteady relationship, she thought she’d be wiser to focus on the assault. “And you never got a sense of anybody behind you? A movement? A shadow? A smell even?”
“Nothing.”
“Do you remember what hit you? The guy didn’t strike you with his bare hand. He had to be holding something.”
“A bat, I guess.”
She planted her hands on her hips. “Some guy wandered down Ninth Avenue with a bat, then darted into an alley and nobody questioned him?”
“It was dark and chilly,” Devin said, narrowing his eyes. “Maybe the guy wore a coat.”
“Did he?” she shot back.
“How should I—” He paused, cocking his head. “Maybe I passed somebody as I was walking.”
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