Jean kept a low profile except among the tight community of permanent boat people, and she’d extended the invitation for one or both of us to visit anytime. And, at the end of that ten-day excursion, when Junie was already in the car and I’d come back for the last of my scuba gear, Jean took me aside and told me that if I ever needed a place to lie low, to come see her. She’d been shaking my hand when she said it and maintained her firm, dry, powerful grip for an extra second or two. Not as any kind of come-on but the way one soldier might do with another. The message was clear, and I thanked her.

So I used one of the burners to call her. She said she was home and to come right over.

Forty minutes later, I was there.

Jean is tall, with long, wiry red-gold hair, pale eyes, and a look of constant, amused skepticism. She had that rare blend of relaxed vitality and obvious high intelligence. A brainy doctor in a jock body. And she was sunbaked to a golden brown. There were some interesting little scars here and there that could be reasonably accounted for by either her profession as a veterinarian or her avocation as a boat bum. I knew knife scars when I saw them.

She took Ghost down below and said that there was a splinter of something buried under his fur. Apparently, the shot that missed me and grazed him carried a piece of the stone wall with it. It was pressing on some nerves.

“I need to put him out and remove it,” she said. “And I’ll shoot him up with antibiotics. Won’t take long, but he’ll need to sleep it off, so while I’m working, you’d better go out and do some shopping. I don’t have toiletries for a guy, and you need a shave, shampoo, and shower. And maybe some fresh clothes.”

I thanked her, kissed Ghost’s head, and went out. I bought more than toiletries and clothes, though. There’s a woman in town who is part of the Arklight extended family. I told her what I needed, and she said to give her an hour. My guess is that most of that time was making calls to Lilith and Violin. By the time I arrived at her place—which looked like an LGBTQ bookshop—she had what I needed. I tried to pay her, but she got so offended I apologized.

I took the stuff around the corner to my rental car, and it took me nearly an hour to find the three tracking bugs she’d hidden in the big suitcase. An hour was a long time, which meant Violin was likely at the airport now and would be here by morning.