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remove the damn thing, starting with cutting off most of the left leg of his slacks. Which gave Luka plenty of time to sit on his bed, comparing what he could see of the glass sticking out of his now naked leg with the X-ray on the computer beside him that revealed the jagged point beneath the skin, digging into his muscle. The doctors and nurses hadn’t seemed very impressed once they had decided that no blood vessels were damaged and a trip to the operating room wouldn’t be necessary, but seeing the complete picture in vivid white against black of the X-ray impressed the hell out of Luka. Imagine if he’d landed on his back or belly, or God forbid, his neck.

After a thousand worst-case scenarios flitted through his mind—including a few minutes of self-flagellation for not catching the guy, or at the very least seeing enough of him to identify him—he spent his time trying to figure out what the shard of glass could be part of. Not a soda bottle. His glass—given that it had taken up residence several inches inside his body, Luka felt possessive of the inconvenient piece of glass—was too tall and the curve too wide. Liquor bottle? Or wine, perhaps? How about a pickle jar?

Random thoughts but far better than worrying about things beyond his control—like his open cases, now in the capable hands of his team. Ray would call him if anything broke in the Spencer case, while Harper was hard at the frustrating and usually fruitless work of locating cooperative witnesses in the Lily Nolan murder. Which left Luka bored and restless, his imagination spinning out possible theories—less than theories, actually, since he had no facts or evidence—about Spencer’s life as a conman and whether his death had been suicide, a bizarre accident, or murder. Luka’s gut said murder, but he needed the autopsy results to back him up. Otherwise Ahearn and the powers that be might close his investigation, allowing the feds to take over to pursue the financial crimes. Although, with Spencer dead, he was certain the case would be a low priority—after all, unless they found evidence that Tassi was involved, there was no one left to prosecute.

Which actually gave Tassi a pretty good motive to get rid of her husband—especially as it sounded as if, thanks to the Reverend Harper’s legal skills, her money was protected from any claims against Spencer. He made a note to follow up on her alibi and financials.

His musings were interrupted by the arrival of two doctors dressed in surgical garb and a nurse. As the first surgeon explained what to do, the second, obviously junior, surgeon followed his instructions while the nurse made sure they didn’t screw up. Which was why Luka appreciated nurses so much. They had to dig deep and do several layers of stitches through his muscle—mattress sutures—so in addition to the local anesthetic they gave Luka nitrous oxide to breathe, which might have colored his perception of events. It definitely made time go faster and although he felt tugging and pulling, he really couldn’t complain of any pain.

Once they were finished, Luka was surprised to see that it was almost seven. He felt as if he’d wasted most of the day because of this side trip to the ER. As he waited for the nurse to return to remove his IV and finish dressing his wound, he heard a knock on the open door.

“Luka?” Leah said. “What happened?” She stepped inside and saw the X-ray displayed on the computer screen. “Ouch. You doing okay?”

“Better now. Just waiting for discharge. What are you doing here?” Then he remembered—she was meant to be at the fair with the kids. “Did something happen? Is Nate okay?”

“He’s fine. We had a bit of an adventure at the fair—a pregnant lady went into labor and I had to deliver her baby. I’m waiting on Ruby and the kids to come pick me up, since I rode here in the ambulance.”

Luka realized he also didn’t have a ride home—Ray would have taken his departmental car to return to the station. “Me, too.”

“What happened?”

He started out feeling more than a little embarrassed but by the time he’d finished the story, Leah had sunk into the chair beside his bed and was listening in rapt attention. “Luka, you were so lucky. What if he’d had a gun?” They both knew there was no easy answer to that. “Did you call Nate? Or Pops? Tell them you were injured?”

“No,” Luka admitted. He’d thought about it but had no clue how to handle it. This whole idea of family waiting at home for him was still new. “Didn’t want to worry them. Figured once they saw I was fine, it’d save them getting upset.”

“Luka.” She sighed. “It doesn’t work that way. You can’t take a shortcut past emotions. And Nate really needs honesty from you.”

“And I’m honestly fine. So where’s the problem?” He changed the subject. “How’d he do? At the fair with the judging?”

She looked sheepish. “I have no idea. Had to leave before we found out, and I haven’t had a chance to call them.” She gave him a look of consideration. “Actually, I could use some advice. The woman who gave birth, she was all alone. No phone, no wallet, no ID, and she won’t tell anyone her name. She appeared out of nowhere—I think she was running from someone. She seemed terrified.”

“Going into labor all alone would do that.”

“Yeah, but this is more. She said she was frightened someone would find her. Like she was running away from someone. And even now, her baby is fine, but she’s refusing to talk to anyone. We had to register her as a Jane Doe.”

Luka knew that Leah had excellent instincts. “You want me to see if I can find out who she is?”

“I’m not sure. Getting the police involved might make things worse, spook her. But if she is in trouble—” She blew out an

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