Sarah closed her eyes. This was going to embarrass Tom. She thought of Hutch and found she wasn’t exactly displeased by that. “Call me out of here if there are any developments.” The resident turned and hurried away. As Sarah went back to her seat she contemplated whether or not to interrupt the proceedings with the bad news.

“To my way of thinking, the first order of business is tissue sampling,” Weintraub was saying. “I really can’t go very far without some cellular material, and I don’t think genetics can either.” Suddenly he opened his eyes wide. “Between us I think we’ll be able to examine the larger questions pretty thoroughly.”

Bob Hodder, geneticist and one of Riverside’s young Turks, spoke up. “Obviously, a chromosomal analysis will give us a definitive answer as to whether or not this is a human organism we’re dealing with.” He was almost handsome, Bob was. Sarah could remember his big tan body, his rippling muscles . . . he had been one of her more miserable affairs, prior to Tom. A good lay and a good date, but a man barricaded in a fortress of unfeeling. He knew genetics and sex and could order well at a restaurant. But he was as cold as death itself. Not nearly the breadth of old Tom, who sat leaning tautly into the conference, his glasses down his nose, his cigar now clamped between his teeth but unlit.

She took a deep breath and delivered her news. “The patient left.”

Hutch reared back, seizing his opportunity with an almost audible chomp. “That was stupid.”

“It’s nobody’s fault,” Tom yammered. “We’re not equipped to hold people. This isn’t a secure facility.”

“Who the hell was in charge?” Hutch’s voice was strident. He intended to use the mistake to embarrass Tom in front of Rush. He knew how to score when he had the opportunity. Neither he nor Tom so much as glanced at the impassive face of Sam Rush. If he hadn’t been there, however, Sarah doubted there would have been more between Hutch and Tom than a mutual glare.

“That’s not the point! They followed procedures—did more than that, as a matter of fact. But she slipped out. You know what this place is like. You can exit Sleep Research in a dozen different directions. Anybody who wants to can get out no matter how careful we are.”

Sam Rush spoke. “Doctor Haver, you’ll have to locate your patient at once. I really do think it’s essential that we get her into confinement.” Tom’s eyes sought Sarah. The message was clear: ‘You let her go, you get her back.’