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“Yes! Ice cream.”
I used Ranger’s phone to call Gobbles.
“I found Becker,” I said.
“I know,” Gobbles said. “I just got off the phone with him. He sounded weak. He said he was worried he had the plague.”
“I’m sure they’re doing tests and giving him antibiotics. He’s not showing any symptoms, so if he has been infected it’s in an early stage.”
I was saying this as much to reassure myself as to reassure Gobbles. I needed to believe I’d be okay. I didn’t want to think for a single moment that I might die from the plague.
“Now that Becker is safe we need to get you back into the system,” I told Gobbles. “If I take you in tomorrow morning there’s a good chance that we can get you rebonded and released by the afternoon.”
“Sure,” Gobbles said. “Should I go to the courthouse or do you want to pick me up someplace?”
“I’ll pick you up at Julie’s house tomorrow at ten o’clock.”
I disconnected with Gobbles and Ranger gave me a bowl of ice cream.
“You should call Morelli,” Ranger said. “I’m sure he’s thinking he picked a bad day for a colonoscopy.”
“Is there ever a good day?”
Ranger selected a slice of apple from his fruit plate. “Not on my calendar.”
I called Morelli’s home number and cell number and he didn’t pick up either. I left a message on both telling him I was fine and with Ranger for the night.
“Babe,” Ranger said, “that’s not a reassuring message. If I were Morelli and I just had a colonoscopy, I’m not sure I’d want to know you were spending the night with me.”
“We aren’t exactly a couple anymore.”
“Had me fooled,” Ranger said.
I finished my ice cream and could barely keep my eyes open.
“I’m done,” I said to Ranger. “I’m going to bed.”
“I have paperwork to do, and I need to check on some things downstairs,” Ranger said. “I’ll be in later.”
TWENTY-FIVE
I FELT RANGER leave the bed, and I looked at the time. Five-thirty. Ranger’s day started early. I heard the shower running, and I drifted back to sleep.
It was a little after eight o’clock when I finally made my way to the kitchen in my new clothes. The Pilates pants had been a good choice. The material was soft and stretchy over my scabbed-up knee. A decanter of coffee, a bagel and cheese plate, and fresh fruit had been set out on the counter for me. The coffee was still hot. I helped myself to breakfast and found a note from Ranger telling me the Macan was in the garage and the key was in the glove compartment, and that Lula had my messenger bag. The note had been propped up against the little plastic container of antibiotics I’d gotten at the hospital.
I took one of the pills and washed it down with coffee. I brushed my teeth and tried to ignore the large scrape on my face. It’s just skin, I told myself. It’ll grow back. And besides, it takes the attention away from the pimple that’s almost all gone.
I took the elevator to the control room and went to Ranger’s office.
“I’m heading out,” I told him. “I had breakfast, and I took my pill. I’m set for the day.”
“Seeing you in those pants makes me wish I’d taken a chance on exchanging fluids,” Ranger said. “Be careful. Pooka is still out there.”
“If he’s already infected me, what more could he do?”
“He could shoot you,” Ranger said.
With that in mind, I descended to the garage, found the Macan, and drove to the office.
