Wolfe hated the smell of hospitals—it reminded him of his near-week-long stay after the first time his father had beaten him. There was a chemical smell that couldn’t quite cover up the faintest hint of death and decay, and it reminded you that the air was likely filled with germs.

The incessant coughing of the people in the waiting room wasn’t helping, either.

“Room twenty-three on the third floor,” the stick-thin nurse acting as a receptionist said, adjusting her glasses and glancing up from the computer. She was ugly—like a stick figure drawn by someone’s left hand, but her eyes were quick-moving and took details in rapidly.

Ugly, perceptive, and probably judgy. Wolfe didn’t like her on sight.

The nurse continued. “He’s awake at the moment, so head on up. Take the second door”—she pointed to one of numerous doors in the wall—“and I’ll buzz you in. Use the elevator, and when you get off, go right. Right, got it? Right.”

Wolfe blinked at her. “Yeah, I heard you the first time you said it.”

The human walking stick scowled. “Well, a lot of people go the wrong way.”

Shel put her hand on Wolfe’s arm and stared at the badge on the lady’s smock. “Thank you, Nurse Green. We really appreciate the help, and you making sure we don’t get lost.”

Wolfe briefly wondered how a nurse had gotten stuck working the front desk, which he was pretty sure wasn’t how that was usually done.

She was still frowning but nodded to the door. “Go on, go see Mr. Dunn. No one has come to see him. We couldn’t find any friends or family at all—we were worried he didn’t have someone in his life, so I think he’ll be happy to see you.” Under her breath, she muttered, “Glad someone will be.”

As they walked to the door, Shel smiled at Wolfe. “Why pick a fight? She’s just trying to help. Be nice to the little people, remember?”

Wolfe rotated his neck and then gave her a stretching shrug. “Sorry, just feeling weird. I hate hospitals and don’t want to get sick. Plus, there might be a cop here who recognizes me. Your instructor—”

“Rhett.”

“—is already up my ass. Also, the Grimm family might be active in Joliet for some reason, and while they didn’t see me clearly, they did get a good look at Emmett—so they might be here as well. Lady treating me like a special-needs two-year-old was just ‘one more thing.’”

They reached the wall and the door buzzed, and Wolfe pushed it open and hit the elevators that were immediately to the right side of the hallway they’d entered.

After the elevator doors shut, Shel said, “Well, you’re complaining like a two-year-old. Where’s the badass chosen of Cerberus who saved me at the start of this year?”

Wolfe snorted. “All right, you’ve got a point. I’ll quit whining and just deal with the shit if it comes at us. Although I still don’t like hospitals.”

Shel kissed him on the cheek. Wolfe smiled.

Then Shel licked his ear.

Wolfe jerked away for a second, caught by surprise, then smirked at Shel, who was looking at him with a challenge in her eye and her hands on her hips.

Just as Wolfe was about to reach for her, the elevator dinged and opened.

Shel smirked back at him.

Wolfe rolled his eyes. “Point to you, Ms. Lyons,” he said, faux serious.

“You can try again tonight,” Shel said with a grin as she stepped out from the elevator.

Wolfe, already feeling ten times better than he had but two minutes ago, followed her out onto the hospital floor. The smell was just as bad, but it was almost silent in the upper wing. Wolfe took in the room number directions, then followed the signs toward twenty-three, his shoes clicking quietly on the shiny floor as he walked.

Wolfe stared at the floor, not sure what it was made of. Not linoleum, but it wasn’t that different…

Shel elbowed Wolfe in the side. “Hey, speak of the Infernal, there’s Rhett!”

Wolfe froze for a moment, glancing up. The good lieutenant stood in front of room twenty-three—Emmett’s room—and stared at a pile of paperwork attached to a clipboard, his gaze intense.

“Hey, instructor!” Shel called out. She waved while walking forward before Wolfe could say anything.

Rhett looked up, blinked in surprise, and then smiled.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“What are you doing here, Lieutenant?” Shel continued.

“I’m here to question P.I. Emmett,” Rhett said. “It’s in connection to the trainyard case, of course.”

“That’s why we’re here,” Shel said, and Wolfe pinched the bridge of his nose.

“You know Emmett?” Rhett asked.

Shel motioned to Wolfe and beckoned him forward. Wolfe glared at her but walked up to the walking recruiting poster that was the lieutenant. “I work with him, remember?”

Rhett nodded, his face clearing. “Oh, of course. That makes sense.”

Rhett turned to Shel, smiling at her with his perfect teeth. “It’ll be officially posted tomorrow, but you scored a perfect hundred on the last test, which has solidified your position at the top of the class. You’re really making something of yourself, Shel, and I can’t wait to see where you go.”

Wolfe found himself irritated by the lieutenant’s words to Shel and threw his arm around her shoulders. “Well, it’s been fun, sergeant, but I have business to get to.”

The lieutenant frowned, but to Wolfe’s disappointment, didn’t react further.

Shel leaned up to Wolfe’s ear. “Actually, can I stay and talk to Rhett?”

Wolfe glanced at the stained walls of the hospital around them. “Why would you do that?”

“I don’t see him outside class very often, and Rhett is an important member of the police academy and the Joliet Police Department, a real up-and-comer. It could be a very important connection to have.”

“Fine. I’ll tell you whatever it is that Emmett wants when I get out,” Wolfe said. He gave a nod to Rhett and then walked into room twenty-three, pulling the wooden door closed behind him.

It was a pretty standard hospital room, smallish and for one person. A complex of machines with tubes and wires coming from them behind an uncomfortable-looking bed with a small, rolling desk next to it took up the center—and in the center of that nest, hooked up to just all the tubes, was Emmett.

“William!” he exclaimed, sitting up in his bed.

“You’re… not looking bad,” Wolfe said, blinking. It was true, and unexpected. Well, true to a degree. Emmett was still old, pale, and kinda flabby without being fat. Still, despite having a bulletproof vest, he had taken numerous shots—and one had gotten him in the arm.

Wolfe could see a bruise spreading from up under the gown across his chest, and his arm was wrapped, but he didn’t seem all that more screwed up than a normal out-of-shape, pasty-white dude in his fifties would have.

“They used a weak card to heal me enough to stabilize me, but they don’t have enough here to just fully heal everyone,” Emmett said, his voice low. “But that doesn’t matter. All that matters is that I need you to continue things for me.”

Wolfe raised an eyebrow. “‘Continue things’?”

“The investigation!” Emmett said. “I need you to continue the investigation!”

Wolfe hesitated. He truly wanted to get back to hunting. Cerberus had tasked him with hunting down the others who bore the “Gate of the Damned” set cards, of which he had two—and Damian another. It seemed as if the Grimm family might have been involved in the human trafficking, and if not, Wolfe would bet one of the other families was.

But he wasn’t sure if he was ready yet. He walked over to Emmett’s side as he thought.

After a moment, Wolfe decided to play coy and see what he could get out of Emmett. Maybe the old private investigator would make an offer worth getting back into the field a bit early for.

“Are you crazy?” Wolfe asked. “You got shot. I almost got shot. And they had deckbearers. Who in their right mind would continue to investigate this? Let the police handle it.”

“I can’t let the police handle it,” Emmett hissed, reaching out and grabbing Wolfe with his good arm. “They’re in on it. I know some of the corrupt ones, but not most of them! I need someone to take over the investigation till I’m released from the hospital and well enough to handle it myself.”

“No matter how well you get, you weren’t talented enough to handle it the first time,” Wolfe said.

Emmett flinched and let go of Wolfe’s arm. “That’s… That’s true.”

He sighed. “Look… What if, instead of a month of time cards, I made an entire three-year set? You handle this one thing for me, and you can be a private investigator on your own right away, instead of handling everyone else’s crap for years.”

Wolfe smiled inside, being sure to keep it off his face. Perfect.

Trying to look pensive, Wolfe nodded slowly. “All right, if you do that, I’ll look into it for you. What do you need me to do?”

Emmett smiled. “I have boxes of files in my office. My clothes are hanging in the tiny closet there”—he pointed—“including my coat. Get my key, go to the office, and get the files. They have everything you need to know. You’ll understand when you read them why it’s so important and what to do. I need you to gather proof—incontrovertible proof—of who’s really behind everything and then expose them in a way that the police won’t be able to cover it up.”

Wolfe nodded. “I’ll take a peek at it.”

Then he leaned down, his face close to Emmett’s. “But if I do it, you’d better come through.”

Emmett grimaced. “I said I’ll do it, and I will. No need to threaten me.”

Wolfe straightened. “Just so we understand each other.”

He walked to the closet, rummaged through it, and found the key. He tossed it into the air where Emmett could see it, caught it, and tucked it into his pocket.

“Get me proof, William,” Emmett said. “I need proof to take all these bastards down.”

“I will,” Wolfe said as he walked toward the door.

He exited into the hospital hallway. Shel was leaning against the wall, scrolling through her phone, a cute look of concentration on her face.

Wolfe smiled to see her, but his mind was on the something else. Rhett left quickly. I wonder why.

Wolfe walked over to Shel, who glanced up from the phone, caught sight of Wolfe, and smiled happily. “Hey, boyfriend, how’d your meeting go?”

Wolfe grimaced at the word boyfriend but started to answer. “Well, Emmett wants—”

A man walked around the corner of the hallway, wearing a rumpled brown suit and carrying a bundle of flowers. He was younger, perhaps twenty-five or so, with thick, black hair. His left hand held the flowers up, in front of his chest, and his right hand was inside his jacket. He didn’t appear particularly noteworthy, except that he had one blue eye and one brown—and an intense, nervous expression, with sweat beading on his forehead.

Wolfe stopped speaking, his mind on the nurse’s words… something about not being able to find any family or friends of Emmett.

As the man passed, Wolfe stepped in close, conscious of not having his own gun and placed his hand against the man’s chest.

“What are you doing?” Shel asked from behind him.

But Wolfe barely heard, his hand pressed against the obvious bulge of a gun beneath the suit, just behind the flowers.

He met the other man’s eyes, and there was that moment of perfect clarity, where both of them knew violence was imminent.