Morelli and Ranger each got a hand under an armpit and hauled me up to my feet. The first thing I saw was Fisher Cat, motionless on the grass beside his truck. A couple cops were in the process of setting lights to illuminate the body.

“Holy cow,” I said. “He looks dead.” I had a moment of panic that I’d killed him. Now that he’d zapped me, it was sort of satisfying to know I’d broken his nose, but I wasn’t crazy about the idea that I might have beat him to death. I looked closer and saw the two bullet holes in his forehead. I let out a whoosh of relief. I was almost certain I didn’t shoot him.

“Those aren’t my bullet holes, are they?” I asked Morelli.

“No. We checked your gun. It hasn’t been fired.”

Ranger was grinning. “Somebody beat the shit out of this guy before he got shot.”

“That would be me,” I said.

“Babe,” Ranger said, the grin widening.

My arm felt like it was on fire. The entire upper half was wrapped in gauze and a fine line of blood had begun to seep through the gauze. “I’m missing a chunk of time,” I said. “What happened after I went lights out?”

“Ranger and I pulled in minutes apart and we got worried when we couldn’t find you,” Morelli said. “We knew you went outside to make some calls, so we went looking for you.”

“And you found me laying here unconscious and the green-haired guy dead?”

“Yeah.” Again, the tight lips and flat voice.

Morelli didn’t like finding me unconscious. Morelli loved me. Ranger loved me, too, but Ranger was programmed differently.

“Your turn,” Morelli said.

I told them everything I knew. I told them about the game. About Fisher Cat. About the webmaster. About the cop.

“We need to do this downtown,” Morelli said. “We need to get this recorded.”

It was raining harder. My hair was soaked. The bandage on my arm was soaked. I was streaked with mud and blood, my legs and arms were scratched from the scuffle. “How’s Valerie?” I asked. “Is she okay? Did she have the baby?”

“I don’t know,” Morelli said. “We haven’t checked on her.”

The ME angled his truck into the curb just in front of the blue pickup. He got out and walked toward the body. He looked over and nodded to Morelli.

“I need to talk to him,” Morelli said to me. “And you need to go inside and get your arm looked at. It’s not serious. The bullet just grazed you, but it probably needs stitches.” He looked over at Ranger. “If anyone in her family sees her like this, they’ll freak.”

“No sweat,” Ranger said. “I’ll get her cleaned up before I get her stitched up.”

RANGER LOADED ME into his truck and drove me to Morelli’s house. He opened the front door, switched a light on, and Bob came running. Bob stopped when he saw Ranger and eyed him suspiciously.