I closed my eyes. “How many people have got it?”

“I don’t know. Nobody knows, in fact—you have to assume there are a lot of unrecognized and unreported cases all over town. It’s not as if Bordertown has a public health department. There are leaflets going out to all the neighborhoods, though, describing the symptoms and explaining treatment, and stressing the need for isolation. About all anybody can do.”

I finished my smoke and crushed the butt under my sneaker. “How’s your case?”

She turned her face in my direction again. “You talked to me yesterday.”

“Just thought I’d ask.”

“I’ve been busy.” She said it softly. I knew she’d been busy in some of the same ways I had.

“Tiamat—the girl at the art supply store—came looking for me at my apartment last night. I’ve sent word to tell her where I am. Maybe she’ll try again.”

Rico shifted abruptly, impatiently. “I can go talk to her.”

“You could. But she didn’t come looking for you.”

“God damn you,” Sunny Rico said, still softly. “Don’t try to take this all into your own hands.”

“She won’t come to you, because you’re a cop.” I felt as if I were accusing her of something, and I think it sounded that way, too.

“There are things I can do that you can’t. Because I’m a cop.”

With the cigarette gone, I wanted something to do with my hands. I would have put them in my pockets, but my jeans were too tight to make a smooth gesture of it. I took a few steps down the sidewalk because I needed a couple more cubic feet of air. She stood stiffly, one hip against the car, as if she wanted to follow me and wouldn’t. I sat on the curb next to the Triumph’s right front headlight and laced my fingers together on my knees.

“I don’t want to take this all on,” I said slowly. “I don’t want to take any of it on. I thought I did, for a while. Now all I want is for my life to go back to the way it was last week.”

“It never does,” she said. “I’ve wanted something like that at least once a day for the last few years.” She came over and settled herself on the front fender, one booted foot on the chromed tubing of the bumper. She took her cigarette case out of her jacket pocket again and handed me one. “But I understand. If that’s what you want, I’ll leave you alone.” The match scraped, and flared, and was held a cigarette’s length from my face.