“That doesn’t mean he wants to start working again.”

“Who’s Scott?”

“Why don’t you ask him? What harm would it do?”

“Who the fuck is Scott?” Radar asked.

“Scott Oliver,” Rina said. “He and Marge Dunn were partners.”

“The woman you’re using to outsource,” Radar said.

“Old relationships die hard, Captain,” Rina said. “Marge is currently working as a detective but Scott had retired. He’s not married, he doesn’t have any hobbies, and he’s going out of his mind with boredom. When he isn’t yakking to Marge about how tedious life is, he’s calling Peter. The main thing is he’s a great detective.”

“He’s old,” Decker said.

“He’s the same age as you are.”

Radar said, “He’s good?”

“Great,” Decker admitted. “Very experienced.”

“And he’s cool under pressure. You’ve always told me that he’s the one guy you’d want in a hot situation.” Rina turned to Radar. “What do you think?”

“It’s a possibility. I’ll need to interview him.”

Rina said. “At least call him, Peter. If he doesn’t want to do it, he’ll say no.”

“He won’t say no. He’d do it for me. I know that because I’d do it for him.”

“He’d do it for the joy of feeling alive again . . . like someone else I know.”

At that moment, a doctor in green scrubs came out to the group. Decker, Rina, and Radar stopped talking and looked anxiously at the man who introduced himself as Doctor Alex Harrow.

“He’s out. And he’s a very, very lucky man. A few millimeters more and the bullet would have hit the femoral artery.”

“Thank God,” Rina said. “He’s going to be all right, then.”

“After a fashion. He’s still got some recovering to do. The bullet in his leg did knock some bone. It’s cracked—a little bigger than a hairline fracture, but the bone didn’t break apart. The orthopedic surgeon thinks there’s enough bone to regenerate what the bullet nicked away. If not, he may need a bone graft. It’s too early to tell.”

“I take it he won’t be able to walk,” Radar said.

“He’ll be in a leg cast for six weeks. He’ll need a wheelchair. When he gets his strength back in his arm, he can probably manage with crutches.”

“Can we talk to him?” Radar asked.

“In a couple of hours. He’s still in recovery.” The surgeon looked around. “Any wife or parents?”

“No wife,” Decker said. “He didn’t want me to call his parents.”

“Yeah, he probably didn’t want to worry them. But it might be a good idea to call them now that he’s out.”

“Thank you and of course, you’re right.” Radar waited until the surgeon left and then he eyed Decker. “Call them.”

“Mike, he doesn’t want them here.”