“Easier with a wheelchair,” Sandra said. She ducked out of the room—the corridor was still empty, Nurse Meredith still at her station but talking vigorously into her phone—and grabbed one of the folding wheelchairs from the supply cubby. STATE CARE OF TEXAS / HOUSTON AREA UNIT was stenciled across the leather backpiece. The chair rattled as she wheeled it into Orrin’s room, startlingly loud in the stillness of the ward.

Bose helped Orrin into the chair. As soon as he was seated Orrin’s chin nodded toward his chest and his eyelids slid shut again. Maybe it was better that way, Sandra thought. She took the handles of the chair while Bose led the way to the exit.

But Meredith was blocking the ward door again, and now she had company—Jack Geddes.

“Hold on right there,” Meredith said. “I got Dr. Congreve on the phone, and he says you have no right to remove this patient. So you just wheel Mr. Mather back to his room and you can take up the matter with management in the morning.”

Bose ignored Meredith and directed his remarks to Geddes, who had bulled up to him with his chest thrust forward. “This is a police matter. I’m removing Mr. Mather on my authority.”

“You don’t have any authority,” Meredith said.

“You can get out of my way,” Bose told Geddes, “or I can arrest you for interference, but make up your mind, sir. I wouldn’t be here at this hour if this wasn’t urgent business.”

Sandra imagined Congreve taking the call in his car, turning around, heading back to State. How long ago had he left? Half an hour, forty-five minutes? Had he gone straight home or stopped on the way? She tried not to betray her anxiety by looking at her watch.

Geddes had locked eyes with Bose, a classic stare-down, Sandra thought, but then the orderly sighed and turned to Nurse Meredith. “This man showed you his badge? His papers?”

“Yes, but—”

“Then I can’t do nothing about it, ma’am.”

Geddes stepped aside. Bose, preternaturally calm, asked Meredith, “Do you need my signature?”

“If you insist on taking him you better had sign.” Nurse Meredith thrust a clipboard at him. “At the bottom. You too, Dr. Cole. Be hell to pay when Dr. Congreve gets here. It’s on you, that’s all I can say.”

Bose signed; Sandra added her own slightly shaky signature. Then she wheeled Orrin down the hallway at a brisk clip, following Bose’s long stride. Orrin had gone back to sleep, miraculously. She could hear his soft, rasping snores over the rattle of the wheels.

As soon as they were past the main door into the parking lot Sandra’s face began to prickle with sweat. A reef of clouds had hidden all the stars.

“The paperwork you gave them,” Sandra said, “was that legitimate?”