"The hospital?" I look her over. "Are you feeling all right?"

"Yeah, I, ugh..." She makes a face, motioning to herself. "Body fluids all over me. They need to collect them. Evidence or whatever."

Ah.

"Which you're contaminating," Andrews says.

"Also," Jameson interjects, "it's always better to be safe than sorry. They'll want to run some tests, maybe give her some booster shots, just to be safe."

I appreciate Jameson trying to keep the peace.

Appreciate him cutting in.

Because if his partner keeps running his mouth, Karissa won't be the only one visiting the hospital.

"Can I take her," I ask, "or do you have to?"

"You can take her in," Jameson says. "Lower Manhattan... I'll meet you there."

Andrews starts to object. "But—"

"Like you said, it's already been contaminated," Jameson says. "She'll be more comfortable going in with him."

I don't waste any time getting her out of there. I don't want to risk Jameson changing his mind and deciding to be a dick.

"You okay to walk?" I ask quietly, taking Karissa's hand.

"Sure," she says, even though she doesn't sound sure, but I'm going to take her at her word. I lead her around the side of the building, and she almost keeps in step with me as we approach my car, still parked on the curb. "Um, Naz?"

"Yeah, sweetheart?"

"What happened to your shoes?"

I glance down at my feet... at my black socks. "I wasn't wearing any when they called."

"So you just came in your bare feet?"

"I'm wearing socks."

"Uh... okay. I've just... never really seen you without shoes like this before."

I pause beside my car, opening the passenger door for her. "Yeah, well, when I get a call from a homicide detective wanting to notify me about something happening to my wife, shoes aren't really what's on my mind."

The color drains from her face.

Whatever color she had left, anyway.

"I didn't think," she says. "I didn't want you to think..."

"But I did," I tell her, "and you could've been. Jesus Christ, Karissa... how many times have I told you not to take a cab from the city? How many times? Too many. But you didn't listen. Why couldn't you have just listened?"

"I did." Her voice cracks as tears fill her eyes. I shouldn't be yelling at her, not now, not here, but fuck, this is serious. She could've died. "I called for a car but they were too busy, and the cab was there, so I didn't think it was a problem. I thought you were just being paranoid."

"And yet here we are," I say. "A double homicide, in broad daylight, with you caught in the middle of it."

She starts crying, the tears breaking free, streaming down her cheeks as she looks away from me.

My chest tightens, and I'm nauseated from the anger and adrenaline overdose in my system. "Don't cry, okay? You're okay. We're okay. I just need you to understand how serious this is."

I motion to the open door of the car, and wordlessly, she climbs in. I close it, walking around to the driver's side, starting the car up and pulling it back off the curb.

She's quiet for a moment, staring out the side window, as I head the direction of the hospital. She waits until I pull into the parking lot, the car coming to a stop, before she lets out a deep sigh. "He said he knew my parents."

Her voice is so low I barely understand what she's saying, but I get it. She's telling me what she didn't tell the detectives. "Your parents."

She nods.

Huh.

"Did he say anything else?"

"Just to tell you that he sends his regards."

The moment she says that, I know.

I know.

I know who did it, who attacked them, who damn near put my wife in a grave this afternoon. "Lorenzo."

"You know him," she says, or asks... I'm not sure. I guess it's a logical conclusion, if he knew her parents…

"Come on," I say. "Let's get you checked out."

Usually people can wait around hours at the emergency room to be seen, but Jameson must've called ahead, because the second they lay eyes on Karissa, they know who she is.

They know what happened.

They know why she's here.

They jump into procedure, whisking her into the back to clean her up and run some tests. Time passes as I sit in the waiting room, stewing. That son of a bitch made a big mistake. He messed with the wrong person. He should've known better. I could look the other way when he attacked my father's business, and when he attacked other people, but my wife?

He knew she was off limits.

He fucking knew it.

Jameson shows up eventually, but he doesn't stay long, heading to the back and returning with a paper bag full of what I assume are Karissa's clothes. He approaches me carefully, pausing out of arm's reach. I'm angry, fuming, and I think he can tell it.

"We're going to—"

He starts to talk, but I cut him off. "Don't tell me you're going to catch whoever did this, because I know better, Jameson. You didn't catch them last time. You won't do it now."

He pauses, frowning, before speaking again. "I was going to say, we're going to need her to come down to the station when she gets the chance to make an official statement."

I nod. "Our lawyer will be in touch."

He leaves then.

Leaves me alone.

Alone to stew some more.

To let my anger flourish.

I'm damn near jumping out of my own skin, too anxious to just sit here, waiting.

Standing up, I walk over to the desk, to the nurse in charge of this place. "Look, any chance I can go check on my wife? She's been back there for a while."

She looks torn and picks up the phone to make a call, asking whoever answers if it was fine if I was allowed back. She buzzes me through then, offering a sympathetic smile. "Down the hall, take the first left, and it'll be the second door on the right. They're just finishing up."

I follow her directions, and approach the door just as the doctor exists. He glances at me before averting his eyes, grumbling a greeting as he hurries past.

I don't bother to knock, instead walking right in. Karissa doesn't even look up when I enter. The nurse is finishing whatever she's doing and glances my way before turning to leave. "We're done here, so you're free to leave. We'll call in that prescription for you."

Karissa mouths the words 'thank you' but I certainly don't hear it. She's pale, almost ghostly white. It's like she's trapped in her own world.

"Prescription?" I ask. "Is there a problem?"

She shakes her head. "It's just a vitamin or whatever. I told them I hadn't been feeling well. The doctor thought... well, I mean, said I should take something."

Vitamins.

After what she went through, that's the least of our worries. "Otherwise?"

"I'm okay. They'll probably have to run more tests later, just in case, but he assured me everything was fine. Got a few shots, and you know... a pair of these."