We rode up to C Ward in silence. On the other side of the double doors, four inmates idled. I could see the nurses in the station chatting cheerfully. Laughter, shallow and grating, spilled from the TV room.

Dollard stomped to Peake's room, unlocked the peep hatch, flipped the light switch, frowned. He released both bolts and opened the door cautiously. A brief look inside. "Not here." Trying to sound annoyed, but puzzlement took over.

"How about that," said Milo. "He never leaves his room."

"I'm telling you," said Dollard, "he never does."

"Maybe he's watching TV," I said.

We went over to the big room, scanned the faces. Two dozen men in khaki stared at the screen. Canned yuks poured out of the box-a sitcom. No one in the room was laughing. Peake wasn't in the audience.

Back in the corridor, Dollard had flushed again. The rage of a dogmatist proven wrong. "I'll get to the bottom of this." He was heading for the nursing station when a sluggish, abrasive sound stopped him.

Swish swish ... swish swish ... swish swish ... Like a snare drum bottoming a slow dance. Seconds later, Peake stepped out from around the left side of the station.

Swish ... Paper slippers shuffling on linoleum.

Heidi Ott held his elbow as he stumbled forward, eyelids half-shut, each step causing his triangular head to bob like that of a rear-window stuffed dog. In the merciless fluorescence of the hallway, the bits of stubble on his head and face looked like random blackheads. The furrows on his skull seemed painfully deep. He was bent over sharply, as if his spine had given way. As if gravity would have pulled him down but for Heidi's grip.

Neither of them noticed us as she propelled him, whispering encouragement.

Dollard said, "Hey," and she looked up. Her hair was drawn back in a tight bun, her expression bland. Peake could've been any kind of invalid, she his long-suffering daughter.

She held him back. Peake swayed, opened his eyes, but still didn't seem to be aware of our presence. He rolled his head. His purple-slug tongue oozed out, curled, remained suspended for several seconds before retreating.

"What's going on?" said Dollard.

"Taking a walk," said Heidi. "I thought some exercise might help."

"Help with what?" said Dollard. His thick arms snapped across his chest, fingers digging into stout biceps.

"Is something wrong, Frank?"

"No, everything's great, terrific-they want to see him again. Be nice if he was where he's supposed to be."

"Sorry," said Heidi, glancing my way. "Is he on room restriction? I didn't hear about it."

"Not yet he isn't," said Dollard. "Go on, put him back." To Milo: "Do your thing, I'll be back in fifteen."

Arms still folded, he walked off.

Heidi smiled uneasily-a teenager embarrassed by Dad's outburst. "Okay, Ardis, exercise time's over." One of Peake's eyes opened wider. Bleary, unfocused. He licked his lips, extended his tongue again, rolled his shoulders.