“I don’t know. But I’m willing to try.”

His expression was cautious, opaque, calculating, the look of a gambler contemplating a bet. He said, “We gave her the Allison impersona so she could bond with you. You’re the reason she’s clinging to it. You could be the reason she abandons it.”

Down in the crater a chorus line of machines began welding iron beams, sparks showering from their fingers like falling stars.

“Maybe if I went first,” I said. “I mean, if I volunteered for the surgery.”

Oscar’s eyes widened. Then, slowly, he began to smile.

Chapter Eighteen. Allison’s Story

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

SANDRA AND BOSE

Bose phoned as he was pulling into the State Care parking lot. Sandra tucked everything she wanted to keep from her office—a few gigs of files, a photo of Kyle from before he was hurt—into her bag, then went to Reception to meet him.

Jack Geddes was still keeping vigil in the hallway. He stood up from his chair and said, “You leaving now, Dr. Cole?”

“Good night, Jack,” she said, which was not an answer. But he watched her head for the main lobby and waved as she turned the corner, no doubt happy to be released from surveillance duty.

Bose’s uniform and badge got him past the guard who was posted at Reception. The next hurdle was the night nurse in charge of the locked ward. Sandra led the way.

She knew the night nurse by reputation only. Her name was Meredith something—Sandra couldn’t remember, and the woman’s nametag just said MEREDITH. She appeared to be in her mid-fifties, with a don’t-mess-with-me expression that sat so naturally on her face Sandra suspected it might be congenital. Meredith stepped out from behind her desk when she saw Bose and Sandra approaching, effectively blocking the door to the ward. Before she could say anything Bose handed her a standard release-to-next-of-kin form, which he must have filled out himself. Meredith gave the document a frowning study.

“Just unlock the door, please, ma’am,” Bose said. “It’s late and I’d like to get this prisoner back to his family.”

“Prisoner he may be but he’s not your prisoner, not right now anyhow. And yes it’s late—what brings you around this hour of the night?”

Sandra took the initiative: “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Dr. Cole. You’re right, it’s an unusual time to transfer up a patient, but just bear with us, please. I’ll sign the patient out.”