“Maybe someday we’ll see her again.”
“I doubt that. She’s in Dayton.”
“You never know,” I say.
36
“You trust me to be alone in your house?” Willow asks, incredulously.
Reacting to my comment about having to attend a meeting this morning.
“Yes. I trust you.”
“I pulled a gun on you yesterday,” she says.
I shrug. “You didn’t shoot me in my sleep.”
“I couldn’t. You took my bullets.”
“You probably have extras in your bag.”
“I did happen to notice you left the gun on the coffee table.”
“Speaking of guns,” I say, “where did you get one so quickly?”
“I’m from the south.”
“So?”
“Everyone’s got a gun for sale.”
“Seriously?”
She nods.
“Does it work?” I say.
“How should I know? I’ve never shot a gun in my life.”
“I’m surprised you got that thing through the airport.”
“They don’t always x-ray the bags you check.”
“They do here,” I say.
“Lots of things are different here,” she says. “Like your car.”
“I don’t own a car.”
“That’s what I mean. You’ve got all this money, a multi-million dollar house, and your hospital’s a long drive, right?”
“So?”
“You don’t have a car. In Cincy, everyone has a car. Even I have one!”
“I don’t need a car. And parking’s a bitch in the city.”
“Anyway, it’s nice of you to trust me to stay here by myself. Who are you meeting?”
“One of my nurses.”
“For a little…” she smiles.
“I wish.”
“What is she, married?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Want some advice?”
“Seriously?”
She nods.
“Okay,” I say. “Let’s hear it.”
“Be persistent.”
“Persistent? That’s it?”
“Relentless,” she says. “Maybe you’ll wear her down.”
I frown. “Wear her down? Can you wear someone down into loving you?”
She shows me a half smile and shakes her head.
“What?” I say.
“How old are you?”
“Forty-two. Why?”
“And you still believe in love?”
37
In the cab on the way to the hospital, I call my secretary, Lola.
“I’ve got a meeting with one of my new nurses at ten,” I say.
“Mr. Luce would like to visit with you at nine-thirty.”
“Great. Anything else?”
“Mr. and Mrs. Devereaux would like you to stop by the ICU and check on Lilly.”
“That’s a no. Anything else?”
“The rest can wait till later.”
“Good. I need you to do something for me.”
“Is it legal?”
“Funny. I need you to find a private investigator in Nashville, Tennessee.”
“No problem. What’s his name?”
“I don’t have one yet. I need you to call around. Get me someone really good.”
“Are you delusional?”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m a medical secretary. What do I know about finding a private detective?”
“Lola?”
“What?”
“Don’t start with me.”
I hang up. Ten minutes later she calls back.
“I’ve got a name,” she says, “but it’s a woman. Is that okay?”
“Is she any good?”
“How would I know?”
“Who recommended her?”
“The Nashville police department.”
“I thought the police hated private eyes.”
“I thought so too, but Detective Polomo said I’ve been watching too much TV. Then he asked me out on a date.”
“And did you happen to mention you’re married?”
“Not exactly.”
“What did you say, exactly?”
“I asked him to send me a photo.”
My secretary’s a bimbo.
“Who’s the detective?”
“You’re not going to believe this, but…are you sitting down? Dani Ripper!”
“You say that like I’m supposed to know who that is.”
“Dani Ripper? The little girl who got away?”
“Sorry.”
“You’re one of a kind, Gideon.”
“Thanks. You got a phone number for me?”
“You’re planning to call her from your cab?”
“Might as well, I’m stuck in traffic.”
