Monroe again. Somehow he kept winding up in Monroe. Maybe he should move here.

Not a chance.

Didn’t feature having his bare back end exposed to the world and hoped his own clothes were somewhere near, but first he had to check the hall.

With the IV stand as a rolling crutch, he shuffled to the door and peeked through the narrow gap on the hinged side. His heart sank at the sight of one of the local men in blue standing across the hall, talking to a nurse.

One cop. But what a cop. Size of a double-wide Kelvinator freezer. Badge on his chest looked like a refrigerator magnet. On a good day Jack might have been able to work something on him—maybe. But at the moment Barney Fife would have been a handful.

Only one other way out. Jack eased back and crossed the room toward the window. Legs were feeling a little steadier now but weakened again as he passed the mirror between the closets. The face reflected was a mess: fire-reddened skin, two black eyes under singed-off eyebrows, a swollen nose, and a wide bandage around his head. Lifted the gauze and winced at the sight of a four-inch row of sutures running up his right-front scalp. Worse, someone had clipped away the hair around the cut to give a clear field for the needlework.

The Frankenstein monster had looked better after his trip through the burning windmill.

Shook his head. A bad, bad day, and not getting any better.

Got worse when Jack reached the windows: he was in a third-story room overlooking the rear parking lot. And even worse news waiting when he checked the closets: empty, both of them. Maybe the cops had kept his clothes as evidence; more likely whoever had treated him had tossed them in the garbage. Either way…

Amid a sudden surge of anger Jack’s fist cocked back to smash the closet door but he managed to hold it back. Barely.

What was this? Was he stupid? A noise like that would bring Officer Kelvinator running.

He realized he must still have a little Berzerk perking through his nervous system. The fluid from the IV probably had diluted it some, but he’d better be careful.

And as for the IV, that had to go. He undid the tape, pulled the needle from the vein, then slapped the tape back over the hole.

Back to the windows: a pair of old-fashioned double-hung storm types with the glass up and the screen down to let in the spring air. The weather had changed while he was out cold. The once bright skies were lidded now with gray, heavy-bellied clouds. Pulled up the screen and stuck his head through. A few feet down, a small ledge, half a brick wide, ran along the wall at floor level. The corner of the building was to his left; another set of windows sat six feet to the right.

Jack knew with sad sick certainty that those windows were his only option. What if he fell trying to reach them? What if the screen was locked when he got there? What if the room was occupied?