“Where’s Conor?” I asked Jennings.
“Paramedics transported him and Deez to Maricopa Medical.”
“Why? What happened?”
“Long, nasty stab wound in his arm. Didn’t appear to be life-threatening, but he’ll need a lot of stitching up,” Jennings said as he closed his notepad and stood.
“And Conor agreed to go to the hospital?” I was surprised.
Jennings knitted his brow. “Why wouldn’t he?”
“He’s extremely phobic of hospitals, ever since a bomb killed his sister in Northern Ireland a while back.” I took a deep breath to clear my head. “We done here?”
“I think so. I’m writing this up as self-defense. You need medical treatment?”
I rubbed my sore neck. “I’m okay.”
Jennings put a hand on my shoulder. “Take care of yourself, Ballou. I miss seeing you around the precinct.”
He started to walk ou
