Chapter 28Richards and Falcone sat by a tall window at a small table in a corner of the busy hospital cafeteria. Andrew Maxwell's doctor would be down shortly. He'd give them an update on his patient's condition. Maxwell had yet to regain consciousness, the icy water having messed up the retired investigator's insides something terrible. Falcone had contacted Edward, Maxwell's son. The young man, caught off guard by the call, and worried, said he'd leave work and be at the hospital in fifteen minutes. That had been ten minutes ago.
“One time,” Falcone said, as he tapped a fingernail on the rim of his cup, “there was this car accident. It was winter. You know King's Highway, in Irondequoit?”
“Treacherous twists, and hairpin curves.”
“A-yep.”
“Used to drag race there.” She winked. “When
