Page 85 of Delusional

“What’s that?”

Maggie said, “She’s on her way to the hospital now.”

“Who ratted on me?”

“You mean, who informed your wife you’d suffered an injury at work? I did.” She sat in the only chair and had a smug smile on her face. “Walter gave me her number.”

I groaned, but I could tell our little banter was over. Maggie was clearly anxious to tell me something.

“I want to fill you in on an additional aspect of the case,” she said.

“You can’t distract me from my fears. But I’m listening.”

“I spoke to the FBI agent on the scene. An agent from counterintelligence was at your office in record time.”

“Go figure.”

“He wanted to know what happened. All I told him was that one of the bombers blew up Marku. I reasoned that would confuse the whole Bureau for a few days until ATF sent over a copy of my official report.”

I couldn’t help but grin. “You’re evil.”

“Fun-loving.”

“Dangerous.”

“Quirky.”

“A damn good partner.”

Maggie smiled and said, “Okay, you got me.” She stood up to leave, then turned and said, “One more thing I need to discuss with you. But it involves disturbing a crime scene and could be a crime in itself.”

“Now you have me curious. Are you sure you’re okay?”

She held out her hand and opened it.

I silently reached across and gingerly picked up the round metal disc about the size of my thumb. I turned it over and saw the image of Saint Christopher. I felt a hitch in my throat. It was the medal my late wife had given to me on our first anniversary. I looked up and managed, “Thank you.”

Maggie also held up a twisted melted ball of plastic.

I said, “What’s that?”

“The key chain with the pictures of your kids. It wasn’t made of titanium like your Saint Christopher medal. Sorry.” She dropped the misshapen ball into my other hand.

We both started laughing, until we cried.

CHAPTER 107

A COUPLE OF nights later, I relaxed in the living room recliner. I still looked badly sunburned, but I’d been allowed to take off most of the bandages.

When I first removed them at the apartment, Jane had walked in and said, “You look like someone who’s been out in the sun way too long.” Ricky had been a little more blunt. He said, “You look like a lobster.” Close enough. I was good for a public appearance.

My left foot remained tender, but I no longer walked like Captain Ahab. The kids were spread out across the apartment doing routine activities like homework, cleaning up after dinner, and rotating for their showers.

Mary Catherine sat on the end of the couch closest to me.

My phone rang. Harry Grissom. It was common for commanding officers to check on their injured employees. I picked it up and heard Harry’s gruff voice say, “Turn on NY1. Someone leaked a story you might appreciate.”

Before I could say anything or ask any questions, he hung up. I picked up the remote and switched to the news from ESPN. I told Mary Catherine that Harry wanted us to watch something. The first story was about kids organizing a 5K to raise money for their sick teacher.