“Seventy-seventh and Park,” Dino said, hanging a right.

Dino always drove as if he’d just stolen the car. Being Italian didn’t hurt either.

The two had been partners for nearly four years when Stone had got his knee shot up. It hadn’t even been their business, that call, but everybody responded to “officer needs assistance.” The officer had needed assistance half a minute before Stone and Dino arrived on the scene; the officer was dead, and the man who had shot him was trying to start his patrol car. He’d fired one wild shot before Dino killed him, and it had found its way unerringly to Stone’s knee. It had been nothing but a run-of-the-mill domestic disturbance, until the moment the officer had died and the bullet had changed Stone’s life.

Dino had won an automatic commendation for killing a perp who had killed a cop. Stone had won four hours in surgery and an extremely boring amount of physical therapy. He rubbed the knee. It didn’t feel so terrible now; maybe he hadn’t screwed it up as badly as he had thought.

They screeched to a halt at the emergency entrance to Lenox Hill, and Stone limped into the building after Dino.

“You’ve got a woman named Nijinsky here,” Dino said to the woman behind the desk, flashing his badge. “We need to see her now.”

“I didn’t get her name, but she’s in room number one, first door on your right. Dr. Holmes is with her.”

Dino led the way.

“I’d never have guessed her name was Nijinsky,” the woman said after them.

They found the room and a resident taping a bandage to a woman’s forehead. The woman was black.

“Dr. Holmes?” Stone said.

The young man turned.

“Yes?”

Stone limped into the room. “You’ve got another patient, a woman, here.”

“Nope, this is it,” Holmes said. “An uncommonly slow night.”

“You’re sure?” Stone asked, puzzled.

The doctor nodded at the black woman. “The only customer we’ve had for two hours,” he replied. He watched Stone shift his weight and wince. “What’s wrong with you?”