“I don’t know, I don’t know—”

“Is Lacey all right?”

“Somebody call 911!”

“Lacey,” Arnette was yelling, “open this door!”

A huge force gripped her, pulling her away. Sister Claire: it was Sister Claire who had grabbed Arnette from behind, seizing her by her arms. She felt her diminishment, how her strength, against Sister Claire’s, was nothing.

“Look—Sister’s hurt herself—”

“Dear Lord in heaven!”

“Look at her hands!”

“Please,” Arnette sobbed. “Help me.”

Sister Claire released her. A reverent hush had fallen over them all. Crimson ribbons were running down Arnette’s wrists. Claire took one of Arnette’s fists and gently unclenched it. The palm was filled with blood.

“Look, it’s just her fingernails,” Claire said, and showed them. “She dug into her palms with her fingernails.”

“Please,” Arnette begged, tears rolling down her cheeks. “Just open the door and see.”

No one knew where the key was. It was Sister Tracy who thought to get the screwdriver from the toolbox under the kitchen sink and wedge it into the lock. But by the time this happened, Sister Arnette had already figured out what they’d find.

The bed that had never been slept in. The curtains of the open window shifting in the evening air.

The door swung open on an empty room. Sister Lacey Antoinette Kudoto was gone.

Two A.M. The night was moving at a crawl.

Not that it had begun well for Grey. After his run-in with Paulson in the commissary, Grey had returned to his room in the barracks. He still had two hours to kill until his shift, more than enough time to think about what Paulson had said about Jack and Sam. The only upside was that it sort of took his mind off the other thing, that funny echo in his head, but still it was no good, just sitting around feeling worried, and at a quarter to ten, just about ready to jump out of his skin, he put on his parka and crossed the compound to the Chalet. Under the lights of the parking area he treated himself to one last Parliament, gulping down the smoke, while a couple of doctors and lab techs, wearing heavy winter coats over their scrubs, exited the building and got into their cars and drove away. Nobody so much as waved at him.

The floor by the front door was slick with melted snow. Grey banged his boots clean and stepped to the desk, where the sentry took his badge and ran it through the scanner and waved him to the elevator. Inside, he pushed the button for Level 3.

“Hold the elevator.”

Grey’s insides jumped: Richards. An instant later he stepped briskly into the car, a cloud of cold air from outside still clinging to his nylon jacket.

“Grey.” He pushed the button for L2 and quickly checked his watch. “Where the fuck were you this morning?”

“I overslept.”