“Come on,” Duckworth said gently. “Let’s get you checked out.”

On the way out to Duckworth’s unmarked cruiser, the detective asked, “You got family, Brian? Parents? Brothers, sisters? A girlfriend?”

He spoke slowly and softly. “My folks live over on Montcalm. I got my own place about six months ago. They thought—my dad thought—it was time for me to try living on my own, you know? So I found a room in this two-story building downtown. I got one sister. Monica. She’s nineteen. She’d like to move out but she can’t afford to yet.”

“How long have you been in Promise Falls?”

“Like, fifteen years. Ever since my parents moved here from Connecticut.”

“Girlfriend?”

“Kinda. There’s this one girl. She came in for a car wash and we kind of hit it off.”

“What’s her name?”

“Jesse. Like, Jessica Frommer.”

“When’s the last time you saw her?”

Brian pondered the question. “Maybe a week? We’ve been out a few times, mostly out of town or my place. I think, actually, I was supposed to call her yesterday.” He looked overwhelmed. “Shit, she’ll be wondering what happened to me.”

“You can’t think of anyone—a friend, a friend of a friend, someone in your extended family—named Sean? A man or a woman?”

“Nothing,” he said. “Can I see the picture again?”

Duckworth took out his phone and brought up the photo. Gaffney stared at it and said, “I keep thinking it can’t really be there. That this isn’t really happening. That this isn’t a picture of my back. Who could Sean be?” He returned the phone. “I’ve been turned into some kind of freak.”

On the way to the hospital, Duckworth did a spin through a McDonald’s drive-through, buying Gaffney a coffee and a biscuit stuffed with egg and sausage. The man downed it nearly as quickly as he’d consumed the ripe banana.

The Promise Falls General ER wasn’t crowded. Gaffney was seen within ten minutes. Duckworth quickly briefed the doctor—a young Indian-looking man named Dr. Charles—and said he wanted to speak with him after the examination. Then the detective stepped outside where he could get a decent signal on his cell phone, and opened up a browser.

He entered the words “Sean” and “homicide” and waited. Over a million results, but the first few screens didn’t turn up anything that looked relevant. Some of the hits were crime books or newspaper articles about homicides, written by someone with the first name Sean. He narrowed the search by adding the words “Promise Falls”, but that produced nothing.

He went back into the ER and took a seat. A few minutes later, Brian Gaffney reappeared with Dr. Charles.

“May I discuss your particulars with the police officer?” the doctor asked.

Gaffney nodded wearily.

“Mr. Gaffney’s general heath seems to be okay,” Dr. Charles said. “He’s still a bit groggy from whatever was used to render him unconscious.”

“Any idea what that might have been?”

The doctor shook his head. “But I’d like to keep him here for observation and blood tests. Do you have any idea who tattooed him? If you did, we could find out about their safety precautions, if they used proper sterilization techniques.”