“I can reach out to her, too. Maybe she can give us some insight about the ghosts.”

Detective Robinson walked into the lobby, arrowed straight for us. “Any news?”

“Not yet,” I said. “Any sign of Rose?” I found myself leaning toward Gwen, hoping she could relieve the guilt.

But she shook her head. “There’s no obvious sign of struggle at the scene, although it’s hard to tell given the damage. There are some tracks through the grass, and I’ve got uniformed officers canvassing the area.”

“Thank you,” I said.

She nodded, glanced at Roger. “The mayor has been filled in by our chief but wants an update on the supernatural end. We took photographs of the scene, and I’ll send them to you.”

I hadn’t even thought to take photographs or to ask her about them. I said as much.

“You were hurt,” Roger said kindly, as if reading the regret in my voice. “You had an injured partner, and your first thought was getting him to safety. Things like this are why we partner with the CPD”—he shifted his gaze to Gwen—“and greatly appreciate their help.”

“All in a night’s work,” she said philosophically.

* * *

Ten minutes later, Theo was rolled out of the treatment area with a very goofy smile.

“I feel really, really good,” he said as he was wheeled outside to the hospital’s front portico.

“You probably got the good drugs,” Petra said.

“Maybe,” he said, drawing out the word coquettishly, then turned that goofy smile on Gwen. “Should have gone on that date. Probably wouldn’t have gotten busted up.”

For a moment, her eyes softened, and the cop-like edge disappeared. “Probably. But there will be a next time.”

“Damn right. With good food and wine”—he slid his gaze to me, and the smile went pouty—“and fewer broken bones.”

“I didn’t break them,” I murmured. “And I told you to stay in the car.”

“You need a ride home?” Roger asked.

“He has a school bus,” Petra explained.

“A school bus?” Connor asked, glancing across the dark parking lot.

“I do not,” Roger said. “But I have four children, a wife, and two hundred-pound dogs. My vehicle fits them all.” He pressed a button on his screen, and after a few seconds of waiting, an enormous—well, school bus was the best description, really—rolled silently toward us, sleek and white as the literary whale, the gleaming exterior broken only by the long lines of tinted windows.

“Fully auto drive,” he said, beaming as doors opened and steps descended.

“It’s something,” Connor agreed, nodding in the way of People Who Liked Cars.

“Let’s get you in, buddy,” Petra said, and we helped Theo into the backseat.

“We’ll touch base at sunset,” Roger said.

We waved them off, leaving me, Lulu, and Connor alone in the lot.

I glanced at Lulu. “You need a ride?”

“Auto will be here in less than a minute,” she said. “But thanks. You really going to call Ariel?”

“Do you think she’ll give me grief if I ask her for a consult?”