A man stood in the doorway of Stein’s office, with a gun lodged tightly in his fist, pointed across the room. Frost put his hands in the air slowly and carefully. He studied the man’s face and recognized him. It was Dr. Stein’s husband.

“Take it easy and put the gun down,” Frost said. “I’m with the police. You’re Jason, aren’t you?”

“Let me see your badge.”

Frost peeled back the flap of his coat with his fingertips and removed his badge with his other hand. He held it up so Jason could see. “I’ve been in contact with your wife about the Night Bird case. My name is Frost Easton.”

“What are you doing in here?”

Frost could have lied. He could have used the same story he gave to the guard, but he didn’t bother covering up his intentions. “Your wife is hiding something from me. I need to know what it is.”

“You don’t have a warrant. I could have you fired.”

“Yes, you probably could, but a young woman is missing, and her life is at stake. She’s connected to your wife, just like three other women who are dead now. I think Dr. Stein knows something that could help me find this woman. If you know what’s going on, you need to tell me.”

Jason’s grip on the gun loosened. He dropped it into a pocket. “I only know what Frankie shares with me, which isn’t much.”

“What did she tell you?”

Jason came and stood in front of Frankie’s desk. “A former patient tracked her down this week. He said he was having fugues—losing time—and waking up with memories that didn’t make any sense. He had visions of being in a white room where he saw women being tortured. They were the women who died. Frankie’s patients.”

White room. Where?

Something not right!

“What’s this man’s name?” Frost asked.

Jason shook his head. “She won’t tell me. It’s privileged. This guy is convinced that he’s the Night Bird, but Frankie now thinks it’s possible that he’s being set up by someone else. Framed to take the fall for what’s happening to these women.”

TF. Fall guy.

“Why does she think that?”

“Because of this,” Jason said.

Frankie’s husband went to a flat-screen television on the rear wall of the office. He found a remote control and switched on the screen. He changed the input to the television’s USB port and launched a video, and then he froze the screen on a shot inside a crowded men’s room.

“Do you recognize this man?” Jason asked.

Frost stood next to Jason and studied the face. “That’s Darren Newman. What does he have to do with this?”