"I'm good," Raylan says, struggling to sit. A sharp pain hits his right side and he groans, falling back onto the pillow.

"Do that again and I'll put restraints on you," the doctor says. The ER is understaffed and it's obvious that he's flustered with the sudden influx of patients. "We got your lung reinflated, but if it collapses again we'll need to put in a chest tube. They're going to take you down for a CT scan in a little while, but I'm fairly certain you have a concussion. I'm admitting you overnight for observation."

"Dammit," Raylan says. "Where's my phone?"

"You mean this?" One of the nurses reaches into the plastic bag holding his personal items and pulls out his cell phone. He can see that the case and screen are both cracked.

"Does it work?"

She shrugs and hands it to him and he pushes the button to power it on. After a few minutes it's obvious that the thing is dead. "Well, shit," he says. "I need to make a couple of calls. Is there a phone I could use?"

"There will be when we get you to a room," the doctor says. "I'll send someone right in with some papers for you to sign, but it might be awhile before we get you moved."

He leaves and the nurse follows him out. Moments later the curtain parts as Dan Grant sticks his head in. "They tell me you're gonna live." His tie is loosened, shirt collar unbuttoned, and his suit jacket and pants are rumpled. It's been a long day for everyone.

"I'm a little beat up but I'll survive," Raylan says. "You wanna fill me in on what happened?"

His boss leans against the wall and crosses his arms over his chest. "Well, from what we know, it's not what you might expect. It wasn't the cartel."

"Then who the hell was it?"

"The ever-cooperative assholes at the FBI have pretty much shut us out, but from what I gather, Cabrizzio was about to make a deal."

"Why'd he wait so long?"

"I don't know. It must've been pretty sweet. He was gonna get off practically scott free for sharing what he knew - time served and maybe a year in one of those low-security country club joints. Evidently, some of his former brothers in blue weren't real happy about the deal and one of them took matters into his own hands. We think he claimed to be part of the protection detail and that's how he got a guard's uniform. At this point we're still trying to figure out how he got the grenade in."

He sighs. "Excuse me, the FBI is still trying to figure it out. We're off the case."

"Did the guy survive?"

"No, and neither did the prisoner he was escorting," Dan says. He swipes a finger across his phone and reads. "Alan Kellerman, 46. Robbery division." He looks back to Raylan. "That's where Cabrizzio was before he got promoted. Not sure if Kellerman was afraid of being exposed as another crooked cop, or just pissed that Cabrizzio was gonna get away with it. That's Miami's problem." He shrugs. Glancing at his phone again he scowls. "Just a sec, I got a couple of messages. Must've had the damn ringer turned off."

"Aw, hell," he says, after listening. "You up to talking to Winona? She heard the news and left a message when she couldn't reach you. She sounds upset."

"Shit," Raylan says. He knows there's no television at the cottage, but she must've heard about the explosion somehow. "I'da called her by now, but my phone is dead."

"As in 'dead'?" Dan grins, making quote marks in the air. He knows Winona is no fan of Raylan's job.

"As in I need a requisition for a new one." Raylan shows him the damaged phone.

"No problem." Dan hands his phone over. "Use mine. I'll be right back. I'm gonna check on Munõz."

"Huh? He wasn't anywhere near the explosion." Raylan carefully eases up on one elbow.

"Nah, but he strained his back trying to haul out some fat guy who passed out. He's right down the hall high on muscle relaxers. Take your time. I'll grab the phone on my way out."

"Thanks." Raylan stares at Winona's number for a few minutes before pushing send. She picks up on the second ring; her voice high and panicky.

"Dan? How is he? Was he hurt?"

"It's me, Winona," he says. "I'm okay."

"Thank God," she says, and more softly. "He's okay."

He hears Gayle respond. "I told you he was."

"Sorry if you were worried. My phone got damaged in the explosion."

"Of course I was worried, Raylan." This conversation is getting painfully familiar.

"Well ya can stop worryin'. Everything's good."

"Are you home?"

How does she do it? She always knows when he's not telling the whole truth. It's not a good idea to lie outright, she'll find out soon enough, but he hedges. "Not exactly."

"What does that mean? You aren't telling me something." The tension is back. "Raylan," she says. "Where are you?"

"I got a coupla cracked ribs and a concussion. They're keepin' me overnight for observation, but I'm fine."

"If you have broken ribs and a concussion you're not fine!" She blows out a breath. "Why didn't you tell me? We'll come home."

He shifts painfully on the thin mattress. "That's why I didn't tell ya," he says. "Ya don't need to come rushin' back. It sounds like you girls are havin' a great time." As much as he'd love to see her and Willa, the last thing he needs is Winona hovering and watching his every move, making him feel guilty for doing his job. They'll both be happier if she stays right where she is.

"We are enjoying ourselves but..."

"I'm fine." He repeats, although every breath still makes him flinch. "And I'm gonna be up to my ass in paperwork as soon as they let me outta here."

"It has been good to be with Gayle," she admits. "And Willa is having fun. You should have seen her dancing around tonight at dinner."

He grins, picturing it. "Finish your vacation. Spend time with your sister. I'm alright."

"I'd feel better hearing that from the doctor."

"Tell ya what," Raylan says. "When I get to my room, I'll call ya again and if he's around ya can talk to him." He's only half joking.

Her tone softens. "It seems silly when you put it that way."

"So you gonna take my word for it?"

"I guess I don't have a choice." She sighs. "We were planning on heading back the day after tomorrow anyway. Gayle wants some time to visit with Mama before she has to go home."

"See?" he says. "By the time you guys get back, I'll be out of here."

Her answer is tentative. "You'll call me right away if anything changes?"

"Scouts honor."

"I know you were never a Boy Scout, Raylan" she laughs, but he hears the undercurrent of concern.

"Hey," he says. "I promise I'll call if anything comes up, but I'm sure it won't. I'll call tomorrow and talk to Willa."

"She'll like that," Winona says. "She misses you." She takes a breath. "I miss you, too."

"Good," he says.

She laughs, low. "I mean it," she murmurs. "I really do miss you. I don't want us to rush anything but..."

It's too much too soon right now, especially with the headache and the painkillers making him fuzzy. "They're getting ready to move me to my room, so I gotta go."

"Okay. You'll call tomorrow?

"Count on it."