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Mickey, rocking almost imperceptibly back and forth, just shook his head.

Five minutes later, the car was warm enough that he didn't need her jacket and she gently helped him get it unwrapped from around him. His s.h.i.+vering had stopped and with the surcease of movement, the pain had noticeably lessened everywhere but in his arm and ribs. "No phones," he said. "In fact, turn it off completely."

"But what if we have to call somebody?"

"We'll borrow somebody's, or find a pay phone. We really don't want to use your cell. Starting now."

"Okay." She held down the b.u.t.ton that turned her phone off. "I'm trusting you."

"That's a good idea."

She looked over at him. "So what are we going to do now?"

"Good question," he said. "Dancing's definitely out, though."


"I know. It's a disappointment. I'm a great dancer, actually. You ever go to the swing clubs?"

"Not enough. Drawback of working nights."

"Well, when we get out of this, maybe some Monday or Tuesday . . ." He lapsed into a thoughtful silence.

And eventually Alicia broke it. "Mickey?"

"I'm thinking. You got any close girlfriends you can trust who live alone?"

She considered for a moment, then shook her head. "Not who live alone, no. I'm about the only one my age I know who does. What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking you're going to have to lie low somewhere where the cops won't think to look for you, if it gets to that. Plus, we've got a car problem. This one might as well have a sign on it, so we've got to put it someplace where it can't be seen."

"But then we can't use it."

"That's right."

"So how do I get around?"

"Where do you have to go? That's not close to your biggest problem."

"Good point. But how do you get around, for that matter? You don't have a car anymore either. Plus, you can barely walk."

"There's that too," he said grimly. "You've got to give me a minute here." He gently probed at his head.

"Are you hurting bad?" she asked.

He glanced over at her and tried a smile.

In the living room of her n.o.b Hill condominium, Gina Roake sipped her Oban and said, "You've got a half hour to cut that out completely, buster. I mean it."

Wyatt Hunt, rubbing her feet on the ottoman between them, gave her a grin. "A half hour from now, I'm betting I'll have moved on to other things."

"Promises, promises."

"You wait and see."

"I believe I will." She sighed contentedly, leaned back, sipped her Scotch again. "So how close is our Inspector Juhle?"

"He's waiting until the DNA work comes in on the s.e.m.e.n. But even if he gets a hit, it's still a long way to Tipperary. It all comes down to whether or not he fired her that morning." He nodded appreciatively at her. "And if you're paying attention, I believe that would be your influence at work on Juhle. It's going to be a while before he makes an arrest again before he's got the evidence."

"Let's hope. You'd think they'd teach

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