After the doctor left, Harry kept his eyes on the door, waiting either for his discharge or for Alice to return. He was eager to leave, frantic almost, anxious to check in with Caitlin, make sure she was okay. He’d tell her that he felt sure he knew who the man watching her had been. He hadn’t decided yet whether to tell Detective Dixon. What if he was wrong? What would John think then?

He must have dozed off, because he woke to the sound of the nurse’s voice as he came into the room holding a clipboard.

After being discharged by the nurse, Harry dressed in the clothes he’d been wearing the night before, and went to look for Alice. She wasn’t in the waiting room, and a nurse told him she’d gone home to change, and that she’d be back soon. He walked outside to the emergency room entrance and stood under the awning. He tried both Alice’s cell phone and the landline at the house, but she didn’t pick up. He tried Caitlin, as well, and got no answer. He tried to figure out what to do next. It was too far to walk. He could call a cab, he told himself, have it take him back to the house, or he could call Detective Dixon, tell him he needed a ride. Before he decided, a rust-pocked yellow cab pulled up to the curb, and a wiry driver in a jean jacket leapt out to open the door for an obese passenger, a woman carrying her own oxygen tank who needed help getting through the hospital’s sliding doors. When the driver returned, Harry asked him for a ride.

“I have another fare in ten minutes. How far you need to go?”

Harry gave him the address of Grey Lady and the driver agreed.

The car was stuffy, smelling of permanent body odor and the distant memory of cigarette smoke. Harry cracked the window as the driver barreled through the quiet backstreets of Kennewick. The day was overcast but warm. The driver dropped Harry off at the top of the driveway, speeding off as soon as Harry paid. Harry squinted toward the house, wishing he had sunglasses. It was the type of overcast sky that was still bright, a harsh whiteness suffusing everything. He pressed his fingers to his closed eyelids, and bright red spots swam in his vision.

When he felt better, he walked to the front door, checking his jacket pocket, happy to find his keys there. Alice’s car wasn’t in the driveway. It was strange; if she’d been heading back to the hospital, he would’ve passed her in the taxi. Where else could she be? Maybe she’d gone to see John? Clearly, they were much closer than he’d ever realized. He was still shocked by the revelation that John had been Alice’s stepfather.