Get a grip, I told myself, rationalizing that the knock on my head was causing strange reactions in my libido.

However, ER Dano was one hot guy. Even Jewish, pseudo-Catholic Virgin Virginia had thought so.

Then again, she was whacko. I looked at Dano, told myself to change the subject in my head and asked, “How long have you been working at TLC?”

He looked surprised at the question, and I was guessing, if I hadn’t been injured earlier, he wouldn’t have answered. But he did look at me and say, “Long time.”

I forced a chuckle. Sounded pretty damn good to me. I wondered if I should take some acting courses to help out with this career. “What’s a long time?”

“It’ll be twenty-one years pretty soon.”

“Wow. Twenty-one years at TLC. I’m impressed.” I really was, along with wondering how the heck old he was.

“Started at nineteen, Nightingale,” he said as if he’d read my mind.

“So this has been your only job?”

He nodded. “I started at TLC right after taking courses.” He looked off into space and said, “Hadn’t really thought about it being my only job.”

Dano sounded a bit melancholy, which was certainly out of character for someone so tough, so rough around the edges and so…edgy.

Still looking into space he said, “Twenty-one freaking years. No one should have to go through this that long.”

Wow. I should have remained silent, but I said, “Through this? What is this?”

Without looking at me he said, “Everything we see. Everything that can happen to a human body. Everything that can be done to a human body.”

“It is a tough job.”

He swung around toward me. “Tough? You don’t know tough.” He leaned back and sighed. “Every night. Nightmares. Bodies. Parts. The ones you know won’t make it. The ones you know won’t make it and there’s no freaking thing you can do about it.”

I touched his hand. He barely acknowledged me, but at least he didn’t push me away.

“It’s like a bucket. Keeps getting filled with pain, dying, death. But there’s holes in the bucket so the shit filters out.” He turned, looked me in the eyes and said, “But it always gets refilled. Always.”

I patted his hand very gently and then took mine away. “I guess it never would get any easier no matter how long you work at it.”

“Nope.”

Time to lighten the mood, I decided. “Oh, yeah. TLC. How’d it start doing so much better?” I asked also to see if his story jived with what I already had heard.

Dano proceeded to tell me about Payne and Pansy’s uncle, who had started the company after owning a gas station near the interstate. His wreckers were often forced to be used to take patients to the hospital, since Hope Valley didn’t have its own ambulance service. It was serviced by a few companies from Hartford and surrounding towns like Bloomfield and Glastonbury.

“When he got sick, his…nephew took over.”

“That’d be Payne?”

Dano didn’t look at me. “That was Payne.”

A chill raced up my spine. Suddenly I pictured him dead on the floor and the knife…sticking out. I swallowed in order not to get nauseous. “Who do you think killed him?” flew out of my mouth.

Dano froze.

Yikes.

For some reason I looked toward Jagger. Even the back of his head gave me some comfort. Dano really shouldn’t scare me. He was not a killer, I told myself without a shred of evidence other than my gut instinct-which had served me well in my nursing career.

But did I want to trust it when the issue was murder?

Well, I had nothing else to work with other than my gut instincts and very little evidence, so I looked directly into his eyes and waited.

Dano squinted at me. I wondered if that was so I couldn’t read his pupils. Never could remember if constricting pupils meant someone was lying-or was it dilating ones? What the hell good was looking into his eyes, then?

“If I knew that, Nightingale, wouldn’t I have already told the police?” He turned away-so I couldn’t see his eyes?

I sat still for a few seconds, contemplating the ever-confusing ER Dano. On the surface, he was hot, gorgeous, all man. On the inside, he was beginning to be as mysterious as Jagger. But at least with him, I knew it was always on the up and up. Jagger was the cowboy who should have worn the white hat.

I mentally looked up to heaven and mouthed, “What did I do to deserve this?” Had to be to keep me on my toes and not become bored. “Of course I know you would have, Dano.”

He looked at me as if confused.

“Told the police. I know you would have told them. Actually, I’d have no way of knowing if you told them or what you told them, since I’m only a nurse and new employee to boot. Well, even if I wasn’t new. I mean, even if I was a longtime employee like you, the police wouldn’t share any investigative information with me.”

I actually bit down on my own tongue.

What the hell had just happened? Dano had me spewing out words in a ramble by merely sitting next to me. I reached up and rubbed my head to make him think I was going insane from the fall.

Obviously Dano was used to dealing with crazies, since he ignored me and said, “But if I had to speculate as to who offed Payne-”

The ambulance stopped, most likely on a damn dime, ’cause I flew toward Dano. Then the doors opened and Jagger stood there, with me…in Dano’s arms.

Lilla handed me a fresh ice pack. “So, chéri, nothing yet on the case?”

I took the ice pack, held it to my head, and said, “Thanks. Damn it. No. ER Dano was just about to spill his thoughts to me, and we got interrupted.”

Lilla grinned. Damn, she looked hot like that. If I were a guy, I’d be all over her.

“Not like that!” I chuckled, and grabbed my head. “Ouch.”

“I put you down as sick for the rest of the shift, chéri. You should go home and rest.”

I started to nod and then realized that would hurt like hell. I also realized what an opportune moment this could be. The powers that be around here would think I was still working, and ER Dano and Jagger would (hopefully) think I’d gone home.

But Pauline Sokol had other ideas.

Lilla was a peach, I’d decided, as I walked toward the administrative section of TLC Air and Land. She had signed me out as sick so I’d still get paid, and then she told Pansy about the incident today.

Obviously, grief-stricken Pansy was also the legal eagle in the family, as she insisted I go home for as long as needed-paid, I might add. I figured she’d made the offer in order to avoid any lawsuit I might conjure up. Hmm. I could pay off a lot of bills…

But that wasn’t me.

I went to the office of Pansy’s receptionist and stopped at the door and waited. A few seconds later, a French-Canadian accent sounded over the intercom. “Mrs. Dawson, please report to the main reception area.”

Thank you, dear Lilla.

Mrs. Dawson hurried out, and I only wasted a few seconds wondering what lie Lilla was going to give for paging the woman. Lilla really was a peach.

Looking around, I noticed the door to Pansy’s office was still open even though she’d told Lilla that she had to go meet with the undertaker right after she’d told me to go home. I shuddered, said a prayer for Payne’s soul-which by the sound of things might need a bit more than a “few” prayers. I walked nonchalantly into Pansy’s office…

And nearly passed out from fear!

In the center of the room was a life-size cardboard figure of Payne Sterling.

I grabbed the desk to steady myself since I could almost picture the knife in…

After a few mental shakes, I told myself this was probably for the memorial service-although weirder than anything I’d seen so far. There was an odd expression on Payne’s face-almost a grimace-and I couldn’t help but wonder if he had the last laugh.