After a moment, Patrick flipped open the catalogue, grabbed his pen, and began chewing on the cap as he paged back and forth.

Letting out a long breath, Hazard opened the door and stepped into Dulac’s room. It had the smells and sounds and even the lighting of a hospital room: disinfectant and the reminder that Dulac, like Hazard, probably needed a bath; Dulac’s low, whistling breath competing with machines that beeped and hummed; the glow of LED displays making little islands in the darkness. Hazard found the bedside lamp, turned it on, and touched Dulac’s shoulder.

“Dulac, wake up.”

Dulac’s breathing altered, and his eyes fluttered and closed again.

“Dulac, wake up, God damn it. Wake up. Gray, wake up and open your eyes!”

When Dulac’s eyes opened, they were liquid and dopey. “Hey,” he croaked. “Emery. Man, it’s so good to see you.” He licked his lips and made a face.

While Dulac propped himself into a sitting position, Hazard found a pitcher of water and poured some into a plastic cup. Dulac drank unassisted, but his eyes still looked soft and unfocused, like he was looking through Hazard or past him.

“Did anyone ever tell you you’re beautiful?” Dulac asked. “You’re like this big, black thundercloud that rolls in. Fucking beautiful.”

“What the fuck are you on?” Hazard said.

“Lightning,” Dulac said, wiggling his fingers as though demonstrating the bolts.

“Hey, focus.”

“Pop-pop-pop,” Dulac said, dissolving into giggles.

“Jesus Christ. Gray, you have got to focus. What do you remember about Rasmussen taking you? Was she alone? Did she talk to anyone on the phone? How did she approach you?”

“Oh my God,” Dulac said between bursts of giggles, kicking down his blankets and swinging his legs off the bed. “We have got to tell John-Henry about this.” And then he froze, his face manic, and his fingers danced again as he said, “Pop-pop-pop,” and collapsed into hysterical laughter.

“For the love of Jesus fucking Christ,” Hazard growled, pressing Dulac back into the bed and pinning the blankets up under his arms. “Gray, what do you remember?”

“Hey, man, ouch. Get off me!”

“John is gone. And the Keeper is still out there. Will you please, for once in your fucking life, try to get a handle on your shit?”

Dulac eyes went wide; he rubbed his chest, and he said in a thick voice, “Bro, I feel really messed up. Am I tripping?”

“Apparently. What do you remember?”

“I don’t know, man. I—” He frowned. “Do I still have arms?”

“Jesus,” Hazard said, unable to help how he drew the word out. “Yes. Now please talk about what happened with Rasmussen. She’s the woman who took you. Where did she approach you? How did she abduct you?”

“Oh man, I don’t remember anything.”

“Her voice? A stranger approaching you? Two strangers? Or someone who was with you, someone you trusted?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know, honest to God. I don’t remember anything. Just . . . floating. And dark.” He smirked. “Kind of like a very sexy thundercloud I know.”