Jesse’s phone buzzed. He read a text. “Your colleague on the twenty-ninth floor is conscious. Concussion, broken nose, and possible broken fibula. He’ll survive. Off his feet a while.”

“What’s a fibula?” Frames asked.

“Bone on the lateral side of the lower leg.” Jesse pointed to his own leg. “Breaking it would hurt a lot.”

“Really?” Frames studied Victor, who sat handcuffed beside Russell on the sofa a few feet away.

Frames pulled out his Glock and laid it on the kitchen counter. “So Tomas, my man, how’re you guys at treating gunshot wounds?”

“Depends.” Tomas looked up. “Where’s the wound?”

Frames shrugged. “I haven’t decided.”

“Beg your pardon?”

“Never mind. Just…letting my mind wander.”

From the floor, Holland yelled, “Fucking motherfuck.”

“Signs of intelligent life,” Frames said.

“Your friend here took quite a blow to the back of his head,” Jesse said.

Frames leaned on the bar to look down at Holland. “There’re worse places to hit him. I’ve never seen him without the stocking cap. Good to know there is a back to his head.”

“Well, he’s got a large lump there now.” Tomas laid a blue ice pack under Holland’s head. “Can you hear me, Ken?”

“I’ve got to go,” Holland shouted.

“Suppose the gunshot wound was to the chest?” Frames asked.

Tomas smiled, in on the joke now. “Not much for us to do really. Usually fatal. Chances are, you hit the lungs, the heart, major artery.”

“Sounds promising. How about the abdomen?”

“Lot of plumbing. Always a danger of bleeding out before getting to surgery.”

“So many choices.”

“What happened to you?” Tomas pointed to the glass cuts on Frames’s face.

“Car trouble.” Frames looked at Victor and Russell. “Right, gentlemen? You two have anything to say? You’ve already been Mirandized.”

Russell and Victor exchanged a glance.

“Wait for the lawyers,” Victor said.

Frames put the gun back in his holster. “Suit yourself. Whatever happens with Thackrey, you boys’ll be charged as accomplices in the murder of Elise Durand.”

Russell shook his head. “She wanted to be laid near the water. Ben thought we had to do that.”

“Wait for the lawyers,” Victor repeated.

Frames shrugged. “We’ve also got you for assault on a police officer, with what you did to Rivas and Holland there. And don’t forget the dogs in the car. DA might call that attempted murder.”

“You don’t have any evidence connecting us to the dogs,” Victor said.

“Sure about that? Tell us what you know. It might help your side of things.”

“What do you need? You’ve got the photo in the park.”

“Tell me about Thackrey,” Frames said. “If he’s like every other mutt, he’s going to roll on you the minute we pick him up.”

“That’s just it,” Russell grimaced. “Ben’s not like every other…mutt.”