“She was trying to do Cyrus a favor,” I told him.

“Okay, folks,” Ziggy called as the van squealed to a halt. “The sun is just below the tree line. I suggest you run like hell.”

Within seconds, the back doors burst open. The dim morning light stung my eyes. Nathan recoiled.

“Take the keys!” Ziggy shouted.

I grabbed them and jumped out.

To my monumental relief, the building still stood. The flames had been extinguished, and soot covered the firemen that milled around their truck. Two police cars with whirling lights blocked off the sidewalk. It looked as if the bookstore took the extent of the damage.

A young, cocky-looking police officer swaggered over when he caught sight of us. “Getting in a little late, are we?”

Before I could respond, Ziggy stepped from the rear of the van, Nathan leaning heavily on his shoulder. “Whoo, we need to get him upstairs before he ralphs again. Oh, my God…what happened to the bookstore? We live right upstairs.”

As I watched, Nathan lolled his head to the side like a passed-out drunk. The cop scowled at him. “There was a fire but we were able to put it out. Is your friend there gonna be okay?”

He’d aimed the question at me. Too tired to think of a lie, I opened and closed my mouth and made a few vague noises. Ziggy’s urging stare burned into the back of my skull. It must have transmitted some connection in my brain so I could speak again, because words began to pour from me. “He’ll be fine. I should know. I’m a doctor.”

“O…kay.” The officer reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a notepad. Apparently I wasn’t going anywhere for a while. “I need to ask some questions.”

The skin on the back of my neck began to blister from the sunlight. I heard Nathan do a bad impression of someone about to throw up. I turned, and Ziggy gave Nathan a shove, propelling him toward me.

“It’s your turn to deal with the puke this time. I’ll stay and talk to the officer. If he needs to ask you anything else, I’ll bring him upstairs.” Ziggy flashed a big grin at the policeman. “If that’s okay with you?”

Nathan wretched again, this time more convincingly, and the cop moved back. “Yeah, get him out of here before I have to cite him for drunk-and-disorderly conduct. It’s safe to go up. The fire marshall has cleared the building of any structural damage, and the apartment has been cleared, too.”

With Nathan hanging awkwardly on my shoulder, we hurried for the door. As soon as it was closed, Nathan rushed up the stairs and headed straight for the bathroom.

Apparently he was a method actor.

“Holy hell,” I said with a whistle as he clutched the toilet bowl and vomited. I pulled a hand towel off the rack and wetted it under the faucet. “That’s a lot of puke.”

I knelt beside him and held the compress to his forehead, putting one arm around his quivering back. “Don’t fight it.”