“Depends. They have to run a lot of tests. I brought them a sample from Stephanie Towner. That might help.” He took a step toward Archie and clapped his hand on Archie’s shoulder. “Look,” he said, “I’ve got to get back to the morgue. We’ve got a lot we still need to get out of there. I’ll check in later.”

“Thanks,” Archie said.

As Robbins passed Susan, he glanced down at her feet. “You’ve washed those boots since you were at the morgue, right? Before you came to a hospital and tracked biohazards all over the ER?”

She hadn’t washed them. “Absolutely,” she said.

When he was gone, it was just Archie and Susan. She didn’t know what to say to him. He and Henry had been partners for fifteen years. They’d worked the Beauty Killer case together. Henry had been there for Archie’s wife and children the ten days he was missing, and then sat vigil with her all those weeks in the hospital after Gretchen had let Archie go, barely alive. When Archie had gone off the rails, it had been Henry who’d protected him, and who’d finally convinced him to get help.

Archie had only recently begun resembling a sane person. He was eight months clean of painkillers. Six months out of inpatient treatment. Susan had no idea what would happen to him if Henry died.

“I’m okay,” Archie said.

Susan looked up. She could feel tears on her cheeks.

“Really,” Archie said.

Susan wiped the tears away and smiled. “Why does one of us always end up in the hospital?” she said.

The door opened and one of the nurses popped her head in.

Susan’s heart dropped. Henry.

But the nurse wasn’t bringing news about their friend. “Where’s Robbins?” she asked.

Susan let out the breath she’d been holding. “He just left,” she said.

The nurse was carrying a long piece of Tupperware sealed with a blue lid. “I have his ulna,” she said.

“His what?” Archie asked.

“His ulna.” She indicated her forearm. “Arm bone,” she explained. “Apparently he sent some bodies to our morgue, and they found this ulna on one of the cadaver trays tucked next to a corpse. Robbins was supposed to pick it up.”

Through the milky plastic, Susan could make out the bone, brown and cracked from so many years underground.

Ralph, she thought.

“Give it to me,” Susan said. “I’ll catch up with him.”

The nurse hesitated for only a second. She had work to do, and Susan knew it. Susan grabbed the Tupperware out of her hands and took off out of the ER.

She knew Emanuel Hospital. Her father had died there. Like all hospitals, it was a labyrinth of hallways and exits and entrances. She headed for an interior arterial corridor in the hopes of catching sight of Robbins. Ralph’s ulna rattled in the Tupperware as she ran.