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Jack made a small sound that fell somewhere between apology and asperity, and quit cradling Ellery’s face. “Lucky for you, you’ve got a jaw like a donkey.”

Perhapsnot the ideal moment for home truths.

Ellery said ungraciously, “I only hope it hurt you as much as it hurt me.” It came out more like, “Uh ohny hop ih hur yuh ah muh ah ih hur meh.”

Jack said obliquely, “I’m sure it hurt me more.”

“Huh!” Ellery retorted witheringly.

“It’s my fault.” Dylan sat on the sofa, head in hands. “Sorry, Ellery.”

“Yep. It sure as hell is.” Jack rose. “Of all the jackass moves. This is what I get for… I tried to give you the opportunity to come in on your own.Nowwe’ll do it according to regulations. And we can add resisting arrest to the charges. Stand up, Dylan, and put your hands behind your back.”

“Uh yuh fuuih kihhih meh?” Ellery protested.

Just for an instant, Jack’s stern mask slipped. “Really?I’mthe bad guy?”

Normally, Ellery would have had to concede that Jack sounded hurt, too hurt to hide it, but the last four minutes had left a negative impact—literally—and he preserved an unforgiving silence.

Dylan rose obediently. Jack snapped the cuffs on Dylan’s wrists and proceeded to Mirandize him, which was surely adding insult to injury.

Jack said tersely, “Do you understand your rights as I’ve explained them to you?”

“How did I never realize what a complete and utter fascist you are.” Dylan showed a flicker of his old spirit.

Jack sighed. “I’ll take that as a yes. Ellery, do you need a ride to the med center?”

“Noh.”

Jack hesitated. “Are you sure?”

Ellery glared at him.

Jack’s face tightened. “Suit yourself then.”

Ellery pushed up from the floor. He was still wobbly and he made an ungraceful transfer from carpet to nearest chair, all the while aware of Jack’s troubled gaze.

“Will you lock up here?” Dylan asked Ellery. His voice wasn’t quite steady.

Ellery nodded.

Jack opened his mouth, then closed it, and Ellery realized that Dylan’s house and property would shortly be searched for evidence that he’d murdered September.

Chapter Thirteen

“I’ve already been told by Chief Carson not to discuss the St. Simmons case with you,” Rob greeted Ellery when he arrived at the Buck Island Med Center.

In another lifetime, after getting punched in the face, Ellery would have spent the afternoon lying on his sofa with an ice pack, the TV remote control in hand. In this alternate reality, people, who should have known better, were relying on him for everything from keeping them out of prison to keeping them alive.

He was not feeling very well, but fear and panic were great energizers. So after generously dosing himself with Dylan’s OTC painkillers and icing his jaw for a few minutes, he’d returned to action.

“Jack phoned you?” Ellery couldn’t help that little note of outrage.

“No. Last night. At the crime scene.” Rob’s smile was wry. “Apparently, he knows you pretty well.”

Apparently, Jack knew them both pretty well.

Rob added, “In any case, I’m not doing the autopsy, so it’s not as if I could tell you much.”