They’d left him alone for about a half-second in the X-ray room, and he’d pulled out his IV and made a run for it, shot-up foot and everything. The cops caught him in the parking lot. Chased him down like he was a runaway dog. If he hadn’t had the limp, he’d have made it to safety. He knew the hospital terrain better than the damn cops did.

Yeah, thinking about his little trip to the E.R. had pissed him off.

He’d found scissors and shredded the bitch doctor’s underwear. Bras, panties, slips, camisoles. All of it. In pieces.

That’d scare the shit out of her if he didn’t catch up with her first and she made it back here. If he decided not to kill her after all.

It was only his second time in her apartment. He resisted overdoing it. Miss Carine, another loser, didn’t realize the keys had even been missing, never mind that he’d scared the crap out of her sister using her very own laptop.

Robert grinned to himself. See? That high IQ at work.

His granny, who’d raised him after his loser of a mother croaked from a drug overdose, said he could do anything he put his mind to, he was just that smart. She’d dropped dead of a stroke when he was sixteen. He’d found her facedown in her rice plate. Poor old thing.

But Robert didn’t want to think about his grandmother. He stood in the middle of Antonia’s soft, thick rug. Somehow he had to pick up Superman Hank’s trail again. How hard could it be? Figure out where he was making his appearance and follow him from there—Robert had done it before. As a strategy, it made sense. If the major knew where the bitch doctor was, he’d go to her. If he didn’t know, he’d find her.

Robert snatched up her telephone and hit the redial button. See who the good doctor had talked to last. Why not?

“Good afternoon, Winslow residence.”

What was this? Robert cleared his throat and adopted his most polite, kiss-ass voice. “Sorry to bother you. Mrs. Winslow, right?”

“Yes.”

He loved old people. Who told shit to strangers over the phone anymore? He kept up with the polite voice. “I was wondering if Dr. Winter is there.”

“Dr. Winter? No, no.” It was a woman’s voice, but she sounded like she was a million years old. “She was here several days ago. She’s spending a few days at my cottage on Shelter Island. Excuse me, I didn’t catch your name?”

“I’m a friend from the hospital. It’s okay, Mrs. Winslow, I understand my mistake now. Thanks for your help. Have a good day.”

He hung up before the old lady could say anything else.

Shelter Island.