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“I figured the worst. He hasn’t been in.”

M.C. grinned. “Actually, you’re going to be okay. He’s using a medicated ointment that consists mostly of self-aggrandizement and credit-hogging. I expect you’ll get a slap on the wrists for disobeying a direct order. More for show than anything else. If not for you, Snowe might have gotten away with it.”

“Sal can hog all the credit he wants. I’m just glad that monster won’t be hurting any more children.”

M.C.’s smile slipped slightly. Kitt wondered if she was thinking of Lance.

M.C. glanced away, then back at Kitt. “Thanks, by the way. I’m very happy to be alive.”

“You’re welcome, by the way.”

“Brought you something.”

She handed her a bag from Logli’s grocery. Kitt opened it and peered inside. “Snack crackers?”

“And a Diet Coke. Didn’t know which kind you liked best, so I bought several.”

“Thanks. But I thought I wasn’t supposed to be eating this junk?”

“I’m making an exception. Since you got shot.”

“Saving your ass.”

“Exactly.”

They fell silent a moment. M.C. broke the silence first. “Have you spoken to Joe?”

Kitt shook her head. “I got a report from a nurse. He was treated for lacerations and a broken nose, then released.”

And he hadn’t been by.

It hurt so bad she could hardly breathe.

M.C. squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry.”

“I suspected him of murdering children, M.C. How could I have? And how could he ever forgive me?”

“It could be worse. My boyfriend was a serial killer. Actually, I’m thinking of selling my story to the tabloids.”

M.C. delivered the comment dryly. Like a big, self-deprecating yuk. Kitt smiled. “I’m sorry.”

M.C. shrugged. “I’m over it. Mama’s not.”

“How’d she find out?”

“One of the Suck-ups. She’s starting to think my being a lesbian would be better.”

Kitt fought a laugh. “You’ve still got me.”

“You think you can work with a too-ambitious, humorless hard-ass?”

“Sure. If you can trust an over-the-hill screwup to watch your back?”

“I’m willing to give it a try.”

“So get out of here,” Kitt murmured, leaning her head against the pillow, suddenly tired. “Someone’s got to hold up this partnership until the twelve-year-old who’s masquerading as my doctor lets me out of here.”

M.C. laughed and popped to her feet. “Already carrying you, Lundgren. Jeez.”

As she exited the room, a nurse entered carrying a huge spray of flowers. They could be from anyone. The department. Her VCB colleagues. M.C.

She prayed they were from Joe.

With a cheery smile, the nurse set them by the bed. Kitt waited until the woman had exited the room, then reached for the card. But instead of opening it, she held it gingerly in her hands. Heart pounding.

Not yet, she thought. If they weren’t from Joe, she didn’t want to know. She had lots of time for that. Lots of time.

***
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