Unsteady on her feet, Angie twitched and writhed constantly, looking like someone with a desperate need to pee. “What do you want from me?” she asked in a weak voice as her eyes darted around the room.

Kilburn pointed to the sore on her leg. “Did you have that abscess drained at St. Michael’s in Vancouver?”

“Maybe.” Angie’s head and arms twitched. “So what?”

“Angie,” Kilburn said evenly. “We’re concerned you might have contracted a rare and dangerous infection in that leg.”

“It’s getting better.” Angie yanked up the skirt’s hem, momentarily exposing her leg to the upper thigh where the pinkness ended. “Doesn’t even hurt anymore.”

“That’s good, Angie.” Kilburn nodded. “But we think your infection might have spread to other people.”

“I didn’t spread nothing to nobody,” she snapped, practically dancing on the spot.

“Chill, Ange!” Fasken spat, more out of annoyance than reassurance. “Fuck.”

“Of course, not on purpose, Angie,” Kilburn soothed, patting the air in front of him with both palms. “You wouldn’t have even known, but when the doctor drained your abscess we think the infection could’ve accidentally spread to other patients at the same hospital.”

Ignoring Kilburn, she turned to Fasken. “Jakey,” she pleaded, “I didn’t do anything.”

Lopez took three steps closer to her. “We’re not accusing you. But we need to know more about your infection.” She pointed at Angela’s thigh. “Tell us how it happened.”

Angie mussed her blue hair aggressively with a jittery hand. “I don’t know. I muscled some coke. It got infected. It happens,’kay?”

Lopez nodded. “And where did you get the coke from?”

Angie looked at Fasken and chewed on her lower lip. “I don’t know. A friend.”

“Which friend?” Lopez said.

“Randee or Jenny.” Angie wrung her hands rapidly as she spoke. “Shit, I don’t remember.”

“What about the tall guy with dark eyes and frosted hair?” Lopez said. “Didn’t he give you a sample?”

Angie’s face twitched wildly. Her head snapped forward. She stared at her own shuffling feet. “I don’t know any guy like that.”

“Angie, listen to me,” Lopez said, her tone stone firm. “This is vital. Tell us about the man who gave you the drugs.”

“I told you already.” Her twitching became a series of shoulder jerks. “Randee or Jenny. One of them gave it to me.”

Fasken turned to Angie. His eyes narrowed to slits. “What’s she talking about, Ange?”

“Nothing, Jakey.” She kept shaking her head. “I don’t know any dark-eyed guy!”

Lopez raised a finger and looked as if she were going to pursue the point, but instead she shook her head and sighed. “Okay, Angie. We need to take you to the hospital now.”

“No!” Angie cried. “I told you I’m okay. I don’t need the hospital.”