I said, “When was the last time you can confirm that you were in Ocean View?”

“Don’t remember. Could be last—”

“Whoa,” I said, sitting up fast and raising a hand to cut Conor off. “Hang on.”

I went for my BlackBerry, hit a button to make the screen light up, pulled it out of my pocket and whistled. “Hospital,” I said to Richie in a quick undertone, and saw in the corner of my eye Conor’s head snapping up like he had been kicked in the back. “This could be what we’ve been waiting for. Suspend the interview till I get back.” And, on my way out the door: “Hello, Doctor?”

I kept one eye on my watch and the other on the one-way glass. Five minutes had never lasted so long, but they were lasting even longer for Conor. That taut control had exploded into pieces: he was shifting his arse like the seat was heating up, drumming his feet, biting his cuticles bloody. Richie watched him with interest and said nothing. Finally Conor demanded, “Who was that?”

Richie shrugged. “How would I know?”

“What you’ve been waiting for, he said.”

“We’ve been waiting for a lot of things.”

“Hospital. What hospital?”

Richie rubbed at the back of his neck. “Man,” he said, halfway between amused and embarrassed, “don’t know if you’ve missed this, but we’re working on a case here, yeah? We don’t go around telling people what we’re at.”

Conor forgot Richie existed. He propped his elbows on the table, folded his fingers across his mouth and stared at the door.

I gave him another minute. Then I came in fast, slammed the door and told Richie, “We’re in business.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Yeah? Beautiful.”

I swung a chair around to Conor’s side of the table and sat down, my knees practically touching his. “Conor,” I said, slapping the phone down in front of him. “Tell me who you think that was.”

He shook his head. He was staring at the phone. I could feel his mind speeding, caroming at wild angles like a race car gone out of control.

“Listen carefully, fella: as of now, you do not have time to dick me around. You may not know it yet, but all of a sudden you are in a big, big hurry. So tell me: who do you think that was?”

After a moment Conor said, low, into his fingers, “Hospital.”

“What?”

A breath. He made himself straighten up. “You said. A hospital.”

“That’s better. And why do you think a hospital would be ringing me?”

Another head-shake.

I slapped the table, just hard enough to make him jump. “Did you hear what I just said about dicking me around? Wake up and pay attention. It’s five in the bloody A.M., there’s nothing in my world except the Spain case, and I just got a call from a hospital. Now why the fuck do you think that might be, Conor?”

“One of them. One of them’s in that hospital.”