It was past ten by the time Sandra finally managed to get hold of Bose. When she explained what had happened he told her to sit tight, he’d be there as soon as he could. Less than half an hour passed before he buzzed her from the security gate in the lobby. She let him in and listened until she heard the sound of the elevator opening in the hall. She waited for his knock before she unhooked the latch and opened the door.

He was in his off-duty gear, jeans and a white T-shirt. He apologized for not returning her calls sooner. She asked if he wanted coffee: she had put on a fresh pot. He shook his head. “Just tell me what the guy said. Best you can remember it.”

*   *   *

The voice had been gruff and a little nasal, an older man’s voice. It was the insinuating familiarity of it that had first made her afraid. Someone with your best interests at heart, the caller had said. No, not likely.

“Is this about Kyle? Is he okay?”

“No more or less okay than ever,” the caller said. “Brain damage, right? Which is why he’s stored in that vegetable locker for the rest of his life.”

“Tell me who you are or I’m going to hang up.”

“That’s your prerogative, Dr. Cole, but again, I’m trying to help you, so don’t be in a hurry about it. I know you were visiting your brother today, and I know a couple of other things about you. I know you work at State Care. I know you took an interest in a patient there, Orrin Mather. And I know about Jefferson Bose. You took an interest in Officer Bose, too.”

She gripped the phone but didn’t answer.

“Not that I’m saying you’re fucking him, necessarily. But you’ve been spending a lot of time with the guy, considering you only met him a couple of days ago. How well do you really know him? You might want to ask yourself that.”

Just hang up, she thought. Or maybe she ought to listen—it might be important to be able to tell Bose what the caller wanted. She felt invaded, but she tried to muster her thoughts. “If you’re trying to threaten me—”