“John Rothstein,” Jerome says, smiling. “I used to have a tee-shirt that said—” “Don’t tell me,” Ricker says. “Shit don’t mean shit.” “Actually, no. It was the one about not being anyone’s birthday… uh, present.” “Ah,” Ricker says, smiling. “That one.” Hodges gets up. “I’m more of a Michael Connelly man. Thanks for your time.”
