In the car on the way to Bellevue, Ridley called a friend at the NYPD.

“My son and his friends are concerned,” he said. “Do you think it was random? Targeted?”

“The surveillance cameras in the Mews weren’t functional, so we don’t know much,” said the friend, a lieutenant. “Kid’s got a fractured skull and a ruptured eardrum. Blunt object probably but we haven’t found anything. Guy took his phone but not his wallet. If I had to guess I’d say some homeless off his meds or high. We’ve had a few muggings this semester. Nothing this bad, though.”

At the information desk Ridley was told that Jeremy was on the second floor in intensive care. Ridley despised hospitals. Every molecule coated with sickness. If he could have donned a hazmat suit without looking like a lunatic, he would’ve. He let someone else press “2” then held his hands beneath a hand sanitizer station in the hall, rubbed the slimy bubbles over his skin, and elbowed open the swinging doors to the unoccupied nurse’s station. Room 211 was at the end of a hall, the door slightly open. He knocked.

“Come in,” croaked a male voice.

Jeremy lay in the bed, his head wrapped in a helmet of white gauze. The man sitting in the chair looked mid-twenties. A brother, perhaps? He wore khaki pants and a red polo shirt, indicating a job at Verizon. Both knees popped like asynchronous pistons.

“I’m sorry to disturb you,” said Ridley. “My son is friends with Jeremy. He said everyone in the dorm is really worried. I’m an attorney and I thought I could be of service.”

“I’m Jeremy’s brother, Lars.”

“Do you know what happened?” asked Ridley.

Lars shook his head. “The police are useless.”

It was a hell of a coincidence: The other boy in the video gets attacked and Claudia is suddenly MIA. He knew from Michelle that she’d missed the birth of Edie’s baby. Where was she? He couldn’t imagine her actually wielding whatever weapon had dropped this kid, but he could imagine her paying someone to. Maybe she didn’t even need to pay. Chad was committing felonies for her pussy for free.

“We’ll probably sue the school,” said Lars. “It was on their property. You that kind of lawyer?”

“I am.”

“My brother was about to get a record deal. We’re talking future earnings in the millions, okay? Tens of millions. Maybe more. And now doctors say he’ll never hear out of his right ear. And that’s just the damage they know about now. His brain is swollen. Where was campus security? Where were the fucking cameras?”

“I’d say you definitely have a case.”

Ridley gave the young man his card and the next day Lars called.

“My brother woke up,” Lars told him. “He told me who you and your son are. I want to talk.”