“Not out of the woods yet,” the doctor gently corrected her. Padma asked her to explain Tariq’s condition to us. He was in bad shape, and something called a flutter valve had been left in his chest while his injured lung was reinflated, but the doctor was sure he would recover. Tariq would be in intensive care for the next few days and under constant surveillance in case his lung collapsed completely. The surgeon added that Tariq was incredibly lucky, because the second bullet had hit a rib and altered course within his body, missing his liver by a hair’s breadth. Padma would be allowed to see him the next day, if she wished, but only for ten minutes. “He’s on some strong meds right now, so he might not recognize you,” the surgeon added. “You really should go home now and rest.”

“Would you like to c’mon over and stay at my place?” Jesse asked Padma. “There’s plenty of room, and you’re more than welcome.”

“Thank you very much. That is so kind. But it would not be appropriate for me to visit the home of a man who is not a relative,” said Padma, averting her eyes. I’d never seen a woman so shy around men. “I hate to impose, but I was going to ask Lily to stay with me tonight. If she does not mind.” Her dark brown eyes were pleading.

“Of course,” I said.

Renfrew offered to drive us uptown. We made a quick stop to pick up a few of my things at Jesse’s, then headed for the Upper East Side. If I’d hoped for a call from Martin, I was disappointed, there was nothing on Jesse’s machine, just as there was no call from Martin on my cell.