9 2
L o i t e r i n g w i t h I n t e n t
“What possible business could an attorney have in Key West?”
she asked.
“I was looking for a man.”
“Did you fi nd him?”
“Finally.”
“Why was it so hard?”
“You know, today I asked the same question of another man who took a while to fi nd him.”
“It was hard for him, too?”
“Yes.”
“Who is this man?”
“His name is Evan Keating.”
“Oh, Evan.”
Stone lifted his head from the damp pillow and looked at her.
“You know him?”
“Of course.”
“What do you mean, of course?”
“It’s just a figure of speech.”
“How could you possibly know him?”
“All sorts of people come through an emergency room,” she replied. “We get drunks, criminals,
brand-new quadriplegics
and …”
“Hang on, what’s a brand-new quadriplegic?”
“A drunken college student who, during spring break, dives off the White Street Pier into shallow water and breaks his neck. We get about one a year.”
“Good God.”
“Exactly. And there’s a big sign saying, ‘Don’t Dive Off the Pier, Because the Water Is Shallow, and You’ll Break Your Neck.’ Or words to that effect.”
“How do you treat a brand-new quadriplegic?”
“You pack him onto a helicopter and send him to Miami, where they know better how to deal with these things.”
9 3