She laughed self-consciously. “You’re Ruiz,” she said, recalling what one of the physicians had called him.

He nodded. “John Ruiz,” he said.

She studied his face, seeing the lines and hardness of it. It was a face that smiled through adversity. It had character as much as male beauty. “Your job must be hard sometimes.”

“Like yours,” he agreed. “You lost a patient on your ward yesterday.”

She fought tears. She managed to nod.

“I have a cousin who works in the hospital,” he said, not adding that his son spent a lot of afternoons after school in the cafeteria until his cousin-by-marriage got off work and could drive him down to Ruiz’s ranch in Jacobsville. The cousin, Rosa, lived in a boardinghouse in nearby Comanche Wells. She, like John, commuted to San Antonio to work. “She said that the whole nursing staff was in mourning. It’s sad to lose a child.”

She twisted her purse in her hands. “We’re supposed to stand apart from emotion on the job,” she said.

“Yeah. Me, too. But you get involved, when people are grieving. I’ve got a widow right now who’s hoping for an arrest in her case. Some wild-eyed fool shot her husband outside a convenience store for ten dollars and change. She’s got two little boys.” His face was grim. “I’ll find the man who did it,” he added quietly, his black eyes flashing. “And he’ll go up for a long time.”

“I hope you catch him.”

“Didn’t you hear?” he asked, his mood lightening. “We always get our man.”

She frowned. “I thought that was the Canadian Mounties.”

He shrugged. “We’re all on the same side of the law,” he said, his black eyes twinkling. “So we can borrow catchphrases from them.”

She laughed softly. “I guess so.”

There was a loud buzz. He grimaced and pulled his cell phone out of a leather holder on his belt. He noted the caller and answered it. “Ruiz,” he said, suddenly all business. “Yeah. When? Right now? Give me five minutes.” He paused and laughed. “I’ll make sure I hit all the lights green. No more tickets. Honest. Sure.” He hung up. “A new case. I gotta go. See you, rubia.”

She smiled shyly. Her heart felt lighter than air. “See you.”

He cocked his head. “Go home and find something to watch on TV. There’s a rerun of Scrooged,” he added, referring to a Bill Murray movie that had become something of a cult classic around the holidays.

She laughed. “I think I have it memorized already.”

“Me, too. It’s a great film.”

“Yes, it is.”