DESPITE BREAKING THE speed limit most of the way to Mercy Hospital, I find Caitlin already talking to Drew Elliott in the north wing. She hardly glances over as I approach, since she’s giving her full attention to Drew, who looks up and waves at me but keeps talking. At forty-two, Drew remains the television ideal of a doctor: handsome, athletic, super-competent. But like all mortals, he’s had his share of personal troubles, and I’ve done my part to help him out of them.

“We probably should have flown him to Baton Rouge,” Drew says, nodding down the hall to where a parish deputy sits glumly on guard in a high school desk. “But between the orthopedist, the surgeon, and myself, we managed to patch Henry back together. Reduced the fractures, took care of the abdomen. Besides, he didn’t want to leave. He insisted that we keep him in this hospital. Something to do with Albert Norris being treated here, apparently.”

A single-story structure on Highway 15, Mercy Hospital serves the citizens of three surrounding parishes, but it’s no level-one trauma center.

“I appreciate you driving back over to check on him,” I say. “Has Henry gotten clearheaded enough to say anything more about his attackers?”

Drew nods. “Last night he dreamed that one of his assailants was the son of a guy he played church softball with about ten years ago. Casey Whelan was the kid’s name. I don’t know how seriously Sheriff Dennis will take that, but Henry sounded sure.”

“The FBI will take it seriously. They’re in town now.” I cut my eyes at Caitlin. “Special Agent Kaiser is supervising an FBI team down at the Jericho Hole. My guess is they’re planning to dive on the car Kirk Boisseau found yesterday.”

“Has Henry really been asking for me this morning?” Caitlin asks Drew.

“He’s spoken both your names, but I think it’s you he really wants to see.”

“I’d better get in there then. How lucid is he?”

“In and out. He looks bad, but I’m confident his head injury’s not life-threatening.”

“So he’s out of danger?” I ask.

“I’m not sure that’s a medical question.” Drew nods down the hall at the armed deputy.

I shake Drew’s hand. After he gives Caitlin a farewell hug and departs, she and I walk toward the deputy’s desk. “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” I ask her.

“I’m fine.”

Sure you are.

We identify ourselves to the deputy, but he asks to see our driver’s licenses anyway, which gives me some measure of confidence in Sheriff Dennis’s precautions.