“Wait a sec, Mike.” Doug felt weak. He saw Tritia running down the hall toward him, nearly tripping on the slippery tile. She was crying, sobbing, and with a sinking feeling in his stomach he knew that Billy was dead. Then she drew closer, and he saw that she was crying and laughing, sobbing and smiling.

“He’s okay,” she cried. “He’s all right.”

“Hold on, Mike,” Doug said into the receiver. He left the phone dangling as he took Tritia’s hand and ran down the corridor to the examination room. The doctor was just maneuvering the large cranelike X-ray machine over Billy’s back.

“Is he okay?” Doug asked.

“There’s been no real physical damage,” the doctor told him. “Billy is clearly suffering from traumatic shock, but he seems to have sustained no actual injuries. There’re a few scratches and bruises, and I’ll continue the tests, but I think you’re safe.”

“He wasn’t…?” Doug left the question unfinished.

“There does not appear to have been any penetration,” the doctor said quietly, “although I have no doubt that he was assaulted.”

“But the blood on his underwear…?”

“It’s not Billy’s blood.”

A flood of relief washed over Doug, and he held Tritia, who continued to sob. The doctor gave him a quick reassuring smile, then moved the X-ray camera into place.

Five minutes later, Doug was back in the waiting room. He picked up the receiver. “Mike? You still there?”

The other end of the line was silent. “Mike!” He heard a low knock as someone obviously picked up the phone from where it had been lying. “Mike?”

“Yeah?”

“He’s okay.”

“Thank God.”

“I want to be in on this,” Doug said.

“I can’t—”

“Mike?”

Silence.

“Mike?”

“All right,” the policeman conceded. “How fast can you get over here to the station?”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can. Wait for me.”

“Make it fast. We want to get him before he leaves town. You have five minutes.”

“Goddammit!”

“All right,” the policeman said. “Sorry. We’ll wait.”

“Thank you. I’ll be there in ten.”

“Meet you here.” Mike hung up and Doug did the same. He returned to the examination room, where the doctor was putting away a hypodermic syringe. One of the nurses covered Billy with a sheet. “Get him a room,” the doctor ordered. He looked from Doug to Tritia. “He’ll be sleeping for a while now. I suggest you try to get some rest. He’ll be coming out of it before morning, and he’s going to want you nearby.”

“I’m staying,” Tritia said.

The doctor nodded. “We can set up a chair in his room. Or even a cot, if you’d like.”

Tritia looked up at Doug, who put his arms around her. “Have they caught him?”

He shook his head. “We’re going after him now.”

“ ‘We?’”

“We.”