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were having coffee.

      “How do you feel?” asked Danny.

      “A little like they succeeded in driving over me last night, but I’ll be okay.”

      “They tried to drive over you, too?” Natasha asked.

      “Yeah, don’t you hate nights like that?” replied Danny with a grin.

      “Danny, I’m sorry. I never even thanked you last night. If it hadn’t been for you, I wouldn’t be standing here. I owe you one, brother.”

      Danny’s expression became sombre. “After hearing the shots and seeing the blood on the road, I figured they had taken you to either finish you off or dispose of your body. You don’t know how relieved I was to see you! I wasn’t thinking that you would use Marcie’s trick.”

      “Marcie’s trick?” asked Natasha.

      “He hid under a car.”

      “I knew they would find me pretty fast,” said Jack. “I saw their feet as they followed the blood up to the curb. It wouldn’t have taken them long to find me.”

      “You mentioned Marcie,” said Natasha. “Is this the same Marcie I treated earlier? You’ve seen her again?”

      “Seen her!” said Danny. “Jack’s got her living with his sister and brother-in-law out in the Valley. We were concerned that Social Services might have a leak too.”

      “She’s been there less than two days,” said Jack quietly. “I don’t know if it’ll work out.”

      Natasha looked at Jack. This guy is pretty special.

      Jack flinched as he eased himself into a chair.

      “Pansy,” said Danny.

      “I’m impressed you were able to convince her to leave her life on the street,” said Natasha. “Most street kids I’ve met are either too addicted or too caught up with the excitement of this whole new world to ever be convinced to leave.”

      “Uh … well, actually, it was Danny who took a chance and talked to her. It was a shot in the dark, but it appears to have worked out well.” He turned to Danny to change the subject. “Did you talk to Louie this morning? Does he suspect anything?”

      “I told him you decided to take a few days off and go fishing.”

      “Fishing! God, you’re a lousy liar.”

      “So I’ve been told, but he didn’t say anything.”

      “I don’t think I could stand any of his lectures right now. I’ll wait a few days and then let him know we’ve got a new game plan.”

      “A new game plan?” asked Danny.

      “Time to take the gloves off,” said Jack. He gave Danny a hard look. Danny caught the message and didn’t pursue it.

      An uncomfortable silence followed. Everyone took a sip of coffee, then Natasha got up and said, “Well, let’s take a look at you.”

      Jack felt her fingers gently remove his dressings.

      “The wound across your shoulder blade and the hole punched through your biceps look good, but infection could still set in. I’m still worried about damage to your rib cage. You’re definitely not going anywhere for a day or two.”

      Jack waited until she finished placing clean dressings on him before standing up. He saw Danny give Natasha a knowing look.

      “Well, thanks, Natasha,” said Jack. “I really appreciate what you’ve done for me, but I need to be going. Don’t worry, I’ll be careful!”

      “I told you he would be like this,” said Danny.

      “So, if I can just have my clothes back I’ll be out of your hair. I’m sorry for the inconvenience I’ve caused. I’d like to call you in a day or two. I owe you at least one dinner, not to mention new sheets. I bled on them during the night.”

      Natasha scowled and didn’t respond for a moment. Then she said, “Your clothes are in the bedroom, but you’re a fool for not listening to me!”

      “I probably am,” he admitted, slowly making his way to the bedroom.

      Moments later, Jack returned to the kitchen where Natasha was sitting alone.

      “Did you say my clothes were in the bedroom? I couldn’t find them.”

      “Danny has them.”

      “Where is he?” asked Jack, glancing around.

      “He’s not here. He left.”

      “He left! I’m supposed to go with him!”

      “No.”

      “What do you mean, no?”

      “What part of that statement don’t you understand?”

      Jack looked down at the towel he was wearing, then back at Natasha.

      “Now, I’m going to make you breakfast and then you’re going back to bed. You lost a lot of blood last night and I’m going to see to it that you get some rest.”

      “But … what about my clothes?”

      “If you behave yourself and do what I tell you, then I’ll let you keep the towel.”

      Jack paused to think about the predicament he was in.

      “Are you angry?” she asked, out of idle curiosity.

      He paused, then said, “I’m being held hostage by a beautiful woman who’s stolen my clothes and is demanding I sleep in her bed. I think I can live with it for now.”

      Later that afternoon, Jack wrapped a blanket around himself and plodded out to the kitchen. Natasha was preparing dinner, so he sat at the kitchen table.

      Their conversation was light, which relieved him. She wasn’t the type to be nosy and ask many questions, although he knew she was probably curious as hell.

      After supper they sat on the sofa and Jack talked about Marcie and how great Ben and Liz were to look after her. He said that the four of them had a long talk. Ben and Liz agreed to take her in on a trial basis. Marcie agreed to start seeing a psychologist and go to school.

      He also told her about Maggie and Ben Junior. He confessed he was having nightmares where they were calling out to him for help and he all he could do was sit there, unable to move.

      “Do you always have the same nightmare?”

      “Lately, I do.”

      “Often?”

      “Quite often.”

      “Does it bother you to talk about it?”

      “Not with you, for some reason. Maybe because you’re a doctor. It feels good to be able to talk to someone about it.”

      “You were talking in your sleep last night. You repeated the word dirty.”

      “I said that?”

      Natasha nodded. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be listening in on your private dreams, but I was concerned you might be getting an infection and I was checking to see if you had a fever.”

      “No, it’s okay. I didn’t realize I talked in my sleep. Dirty was what Maggie printed in the last page of her sketchbook, just before she was murdered. It’s been bothering me ever since.”

      “Maybe whoever killed her was dirty or perhaps was using foul language?”

      “I don’t think so. She was really talented. You should see some of the drawings she did. They’re incredible. She could really draw what she saw.”

      “Meaning?”

      “She was too talented just to print the word dirty.

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