Chapter 12: The Seat With No Card

"We move the surgery," I told Keir at one in the morning.

"Why?"

"Because I can't hold a drill with my hands like this."

I held them out, and he watched them shake.

"Then tell me what to do," he said. "Say the word, and my men will bring her here in an hour."

"No."

"Lena."

"If we grab her, Adelaide knows we know. She'll move before we understand what Roxie did."

"What do you think she did?"

"I don't know." My voice cracked on it. "I don't know, and I need to."

He took one of my hands and held it between both of his until it stopped shaking.

"Two days," he said. "Then I'm on your table, whatever you find."

"Two days."

"And my man waits outside whatever house you go into."

"Fine."

I went to Bridgeport on Thursday evening, alone, in my own coat.

Ken and Peg had gone to their church's bingo night. Roxie had stayed home with a bad cold, she'd texted.

She opened the door in a flannel shirt and sweatpants with her hair in a knot, and sneezed into her elbow.

"Hi," she said. "Oh my God, you're here. Come in. I'm disgusting."

She hugged me anyway.

She was warm and a little damp, and she smelled like cough drops.

I hugged her back.

I did it carefully, and I kept my face turned away.

"I made eggs," she said. "I mean I'm making eggs. Do you want eggs? It's the only thing I'm good at when I'm sick."

"You're a line cook."

"Yes, but the line is for other people."

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