BLUMENTHAL AND I NO longer have very much to say to each other. I thought he was passive and uncaring. He thought I was an aggressive bitch. No, of course he never said that, but I’m pretty good at reading attitudes. Right now I’ve just got to get out of here.

Blumenthal’s colleagues—police officers, FBI agents, file clerks, junior detectives, full detectives—watch me turn and walk quickly to the cafeteria door, exit, and close the door firmly, but without slamming it. What they cannot see, however, is the fact that I stop outside the door. I stand and wait. I want to hear if anything is going to be said about my visit.

Sure enough, almost immediately Leon Blumenthal yells, “I need everyone over here. Right now.” Then, for good measure, he adds, “Right now means right now.”

Here it comes. I know I’ll hear something like, “You all know that crazy midwife. Well, she’s crazier than ever.” Or maybe, “Wait’ll I tell you the ridiculous ‘tip’ I just got from that Ryuan woman.”

Here’s what Blumenthal actually says: “Lucy Ryuan, a respected midwife here at GUH, just stopped by. I’m sure you all saw her, and some of you may have even heard parts, if not all, of our conversation. Ms. Ryuan delivered some highly provocative, highly important information. If even half of what she said is true, then we’ve now got something of a lead, a real lead. I’m going to immediately text some of you with next-step orders. I’d give them out right now, but I’m sure Ms. Ryuan is standing outside listening in.”

Son of a bitch. This guy is no fool. But I’m surprised and pleased about what I’ve just overheard.

And then, “Don’t lean too hard against the door, Lucy. Someone might open it suddenly.”

It’s Rudi Sarkar. He’s looking like the autumn cover of Esquire. He’s wearing dark-gray slacks, a Paul Stuart—I’m guessing—blazer, and his adorable smile. Bright white teeth, good haircut, the whole deal.

“What is it that you are listening for so intently?” he asks.

I know from experience that I will always end up in a better place by telling the truth than a lame lie. And most of my lies do turn out to be lame.

“To be honest—” I begin.

“Please do be honest,” Sarkar says.

I begin again. “To be honest, I just came from speaking with Detective Blumenthal, and I was wondering if there would be any follow-up, like if he had an announcement to make to his staff.”

“And did he? Something malignant?”

Good God, do doctors just always use medical terminology?

“Indeed he did, but it turned out not to be, as you say, a malignant announcement,” I say.

“I am not surprised,” says Sarkar. We begin walking toward the elevators.

“I know that you think well of him, Dr. Sarkar—”