“Did you get these on the black market or something?”

“I don’t believe in paying retail.”

Rina dispensed with the lecture. She began to sort through the various medications. “What are you taking?”

Donatti sorted through the bottles. “I think I’m taking this one.”

“Amoxicillin?”

“Yeah. Isn’t that an antibiotic? I took it when I had a sort throat.”

“Except you don’t have a sore throat, Mr. Donatti. You have a bullet wound.” Rina studied the medicines. “This will do-Keflex. It might upset your stomach. Take it anyway. You have enough for ten days. You’ll probably need more. What you really need is a doc-”

“Are you done?”

“No, Christopher, I am not done. I haven’t even started. I want to clean this up. To do it properly, it’ll take a while.”

“I’m tired.”

“So am I. The sooner we start, the faster it’ll be done.”

“Then you’ll leave?”

“Yes.”

“Anything to get rid of you.”

Rina told herself to start with the basic. “I need to wash my hands.”

He thought a moment, then reached in his file cabinet and took out several shrink-wrapped packages of latex surgical gloves. Good ones-strong and thin. Rina stared at them, then at him. Then snapped them over her hands.

“Even better.” She sat on a chair while he stood. She took a cotton swab and began to clean the suppurated area.

He winced and jumped.

“Sorry, I know it stings.”

He wrinkled his nose. “It stings and it stinks.”

“It’s infected.”

She worked in silence. A minute passed, then another.

Donatti said, “You have a light touch.”

“Good.”

“You’re not very squeamish for a religious woman.”

“That’s a non sequitur.”

“You’ve done this before.”

A statement, not a question. “Yes.”

“Nursing the lieutenant’s gunshot wounds?”

“Actually, yes, I’ve done that. But my experience goes beyond that. When I first got married, I lived in Israel… during the Lebanon invasion, about eighteen years ago. I lived in what you people in America call a settlement way back when it really was a settlement-”

She stopped talking, needing to concentrate for a moment.

“Today these settlements are actually towns. Besides, I prefer to think of it as resettlement, but that’s my bias talking. Anyway, a group of us pioneer women decided to do our bit for our soldiers on the front lines. Six of us went up North to help out. I was all of twenty. There was this medical camp at the border-makeshift of course, but it had good equipment. There were around… oh, fifty beds maybe. The first day there was awful-the moaning, the groaning, the wounds, the smells, the injuries. The second wasn’t any better. But by the end of a week, you either leave, or you do something useful. Once you’ve learned, you never forget.”

Donatti was stunned. “So what did the lieutenant do while you were nursing soldiers?”

“I suppose he was doing police work in Los Angeles.” She threw pus-filled swabs into the garbage and regarded his eyes. “I wasn’t married to Lieutenant Decker back then, Christopher. I lived in Israel with my first husband.”

Donatti was silent. Then he said, “You’re divorced?”

“Married at seventeen, two baby boys by twenty, a widow at twenty-four.”

Donatti raised his eyebrows, then stifled a yelp.

“Sorry. I need to clean out this fold. It’s a little deep.”

The room fell quiet.

Donatti said, “So Decker’s not the father of your sons.”

“Not the biological father, no.”

“Does he get along with them?”

“Very well actually.”

“How’d you meet him? Decker?”

“My first husband and I eventually moved back to the States. We lived in an insulated, religious community. My husband died there, but I stayed on. A crime occurred and the lieutenant was in charge of the investigation. I, being unattached and tremendously attracted to the man, acted as a go-between for the police.”

“What kind of a crime?”

“Rape. Back then, the lieutenant was a Sex Crimes detective.”

“Someone try to rape you?”

She stopped. “I didn’t say anything about my being the victim.”

“I just assumed.”

Rina didn’t answer. But Donatti saw her jaw tighten. “I’ve upset you. I’ll shut up.”

“You didn’t upset me.” But she fell into silence, chewing on her swollen lip as she tried to keep her composure.

Donatti felt for her. He said, “My old man was an Irish two-fisted drunk. Used to pummel me all the time. Just beat the crap out of me. When I was seven, he got drunk and repeatedly kicked me between the legs. I lost a testicle.”

Rina froze. “That’s absolutely horrible!”

“It wasn’t pretty, especially because I didn’t get proper cosmetic surgery right away. I used to hide underneath a towel at gym.” His laugh was bitter. “Guys used to think it was because I was a big guy with a small you know what.”

“That’s terrible. I’m so sorry.” Rina bit hard on her lip. The scab opened up and bled into her mouth, but she continued dressing the shot wounds.

Donatti went on. “He beat my mother, too.” His face darkened. “Cops were called in at least a dozen times. Didn’t do shit… Bastards didn’t give a damn. They’d haul him in, put him in jail to sleep it off overnight, give him breakfast in the morning, and spring him. A couple days, maybe a week later, same thing, same routine. ‘Hey, Patty! Don’t we always tell you to hit her where we can’t see?’ Just one big sick joke. Worst feeling in the world… being helpless.”

“That’s terrible.”

Donatti grew black and silent.

“I can’t fathom how someone could repeatedly beat up on a child.” Rina’s voice broke. “You poor thing.”

“S’right.” Donatti was touched by her empathy. “I survived. And I obviously don’t have a hormone problem.”

“Obviously not.”

“Thank God for small favors.” Donatti wiped his perspiration-soaked face with a towel. “It’s not such a small favor. From two to one is livable. One to none is not. Eventually, I got cosmetic surgery. You couldn’t tell anything just by looking.” A grin. “Wanna see?”

“You must be feeling better,” Rina commented. “You’re making lewd remarks.”

“Just some harmless flirting.” His smile turned to a stony expression. “I don’t remember the last time I just flirted. I’m so used to using sex as a weapon. Comes from being molested, you know.”

She stopped cold. “Your father molested you?”

Donatti noticed that she had gone pale. This time, he had hit something potent. “No, my father used me for a punching bag. Joey Donatti-my adoptive father-he used me as his bitch.”

He looked away.

“My mother was Joey’s mistress. He was crazy about her. After she died, I was an orphan and Joey took me in. Probably a deathbed promise he made to her. I was almost fourteen… at that weird in-between stage… not yet in full-blown puberty. Full of pimples, gawky. I was tall but skinny. Lithe, actually. Waiting for the muscles to come. I had long blond hair at the time… down to my shoulders.” He brushed his deltoid with his fingertips. “The fashion of the day.”

He glanced down, into Rina’s eyes.

“I looked like my mother. Joey used to take me into a room, make me kneel in front of him.” A pause. “He had me perform oral sex on him while he ran his fingers through my hair.”

“Oh my God!”

“It went on for about a year, maybe a little longer. Then his wife finally caught on… gave him some choice words. Also, I became too much of a man for him to pretend. But even so, whenever he’d kiss me, he’d jam his tongue down my throat. I still kiss him that way. Only now, I jam my tongue down his throat. That’s not sex, Mrs. Decker; that’s a power position. He’s my bitch instead of the other way around.”

Rina’s eyes moistened. “The man who was responsible for the rape in my community… he molested my children… my younger son in particular. Ten years later and my son’s still suffering. I only found out about it a year ago. You can imagine my guilt.”