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I shook my head. “Tell me what?”

“Your heart stopped three times. Ramirez kept it going with CPR until the doctors got to you. But they lost you twice. You were going down for the third time when Leonora Evans convinced them to let her try and save you with some of that good old time religion.”

My heart was suddenly beating too hard, and I could have sworn that the inside of my ribs hurt with each beat. “Are you trying to scare me?”

“No, just explaining the Easter reference. You know, Christ rose from the dead.”

“I get it, I get it.” I was suddenly scared and angry. I am rarely one without being the other.

“If you still believe in it, I’d light a candle or two,” he said.

“I’ll think about it,” I said, and my voice sounded defensive even to me.

He was smiling again, and I was beginning to distrust his smile almost as much as the rest of him. “Or maybe you should talk to Leonora and ask her who she asked for help to get you back. Maybe it’s not a church candle you need to light. Maybe you need to slaughter a few chickens.”

“Wiccans do not kill things to raise power.”

He shrugged. “Sorry, they don’t teach comparative religion or metaphysics in assassin school.”

“You’ve scared me, reminded me how hurt I am, and now you’re yanking my chain, teasing me. Do you want me to get up out of this bed and meet Baco or not?”

His face was all serious, the last of the humor draining away like ice melting down a hot plate. “I want you to do whatever you need to do, Anita. I thought I wanted to get this son of a bitch at any price.” He touched my right hand where it lay on the sheet. He didn’t hold it, just touched it, then pulled away. “I was wrong. Some things I’m not willing to pay.”

Before I could think of anything to say, he turned and left. I wasn’t sure which was confusing me more: this case, or the new and more emotional Edward. I caught sight of the clock. Shit. I had an hour and forty minutes to get dressed, check out of the hospital against doctor’s orders, and drive to Los Duendos. I was betting arguing with Doctor Cunningham was going to take longer than either of the other two.

44

I PRESSED THE BUTTON to slowly raise the bed. The closer I got to a sitting position, the more I hurt. My chest ached as if the muscles around my ribs had been overused. The cuts on my back did not like sitting up and would probably like walking even less. There was a certain tightness to the skin, like a shoe laced too tightly, that said I had stitches on my back. They would be a pain all their own when I insisted on moving. Nothing feels quite like stitches. I wondered how many I had in my back. It felt like a lot.

When I was in a sitting position, I waited for a few seconds listening to my body complain. I usually don’t get this hurt until the end of a case. I hadn’t even met the great-bad-thing face to face yet. It had nearly killed me from a nice supposedly safe distance.

I let myself think about that for a few minutes. I’d almost died. Seems like I should get a few days of grace before having to crawl back into the trenches. But crime and tide wait for no woman, or something like that. I’ll admit I thought about just staying put, just letting someone else be heroic for a change. But the moment I seriously thought it, I flashed on the nursery and those red-splashed cribs. I couldn’t just lie here and trust that everyone would muddle through without me. I just couldn’t do it.

I had my gown halfway down my arms when I realized I couldn’t just yank the sticky pads that connected me to the heart monitor. Just yanking them off would give the hospital staff just a little too much excitement.

I finally pressed the nurse call button. I had to get unplugged from all the drips and machines.

The nurse came almost immediately, which either meant the hospital had more nurses on staff than most hospitals could afford these days, or I was really hurt and they were paying extra attention to me. I was hoping for a surplus of nurses, but wasn’t betting on it.

The nurse was shorter than I am, very petite,