"You can't see them very well, unless they're right up against the viewing panel," Lucas said. "Is there another angle?"

"Yeah, we have one of the scanning cameras at the end of the hall."

"Let's see that."

They spent ten minutes fast-forwarding through three days of the staff coming and going. "I keep thinking, the food," Sloan said. "It's the only thing that consistently goes into the cells."

They thought about that for a moment, and then Jansen said, "Suppose one of the guys delivering the food wrote down what happened, like a little strip of paper, and put it in the mashed potatoes…"

"Let's look at the guys bring in the food."

Seven different staff members delivered food over the three days. The food went into the cell on a kind of metallic lazy Susan device. "Wouldn't even have to put it in the food-you could just drop it on the tray when you put the food in the slot," Sloan said. "The cameras aren't so good that you could pick that up."

They watched the three men eating, saw nothing out of the ordinary, except that Biggie had bad manners, eating with his hands as much as with his spoon.

"Okay," Lucas said, when they were done. He was discouraged. "Maybe this isn't it. Goddamnit, I thought I was on to something."

"Want me to go down and drop Peterson's name on Biggie? Or on all three of them?" Jansen asked. "I could mention 'a Peterson thing' in passing, see if we get any reaction."

"It's an idea," Lucas said, considering him. "You're not going to get anything from Chase, though. He was hypermanic this morning."

"He's gone over the top and is on the way back down," Jansen said. "If I go now, I might catch him before he crashes. You could watch from here, in real time."

Lucas nodded. "Let's do it."

CHASE GAVE IT AWAY. Jansen rolled the observation window back and said, "How're you doing? Sleepy?"

"Man, I'm dying," Chase whimpered. "I'm going out. I'm like a light, I'm going out." He put his hands on both sides of his head and squeezed: "Why am I like this, Mr. Jansen?"

"We don't know, man." There was a note of sympathy in Jansen's voice, and it resonated.

Chase said, still holding his face, "If I could just, if I could just… If I could get out of here just for a couple of hours…" He sounded desperate, like a man who needed water.

"That's gonna be tough, since the Peterson thing. The director is adamant about keeping the three of you under wraps. That might not seem fair…"

Lucas liked the way he did it: in passing, as part of another idea, the raisin in the rice pudding. Chase's hands came down; his face was brighter, and his thin lips turned up in a joker's smile. "You know about that? How he got her…"

"I've heard the usual stories," Jansen said, noncommittally. He looked over his shoulder, as though he shouldn't be talking about it.

"So cool. He fucked her all night. He had her tied up, he had this rope around her neck like a fuckin' bridle, he fucked her all night. Six, seven, eight times. The bitch could hardly walk in the morning. He took her up there, rolled her out of the car, naked as the day. Then he says, 'You got a hundred yards and then I'm coming.'"

"She ran, but there was no place to go, so she ran into the woods." Chase was leaning on the viewing glass now, face only inches from Jansen's.

"She was screaming: but there was nobody out there. He caught her by this big tree, and she tried to run around it, keep the tree between them. Then he caught her and there was a creek and she fell into it, and that's when he got her; right on her shoulder blades. She had this long black hair and he pulled it up and zip with the razor. Then you know what he did? He did like this victory scream, he screamed…"

And Chase screamed, his head thrown back, his mouth open, his eyes glazed… and then he staggered backwards onto his bed, as though he'd been struck by lightning, his tongue out now, his body vibrating, words bubbling out, all nonsense.

Jansen disappeared from the camera view, and they could hear his voice from down the hall. Calling for help?

Sloan said, "That's not something you see every day."

THEY WERE BACK in Cale's office: "They got the message somehow. In detail. There's nothing on the tape, so it wasn't oral. It must have been written and delivered with the food," Lucas said. "We've got a list of the people who were around when food was delivered. Seven orderlies, three therapists. There were also two doctors and two more therapists in and out of the hallway, who looked or spoke to the Big Three at one time or another."

"Goddamnit. I can hear them building the crucifix, up at the Capitol," Cale said. He spun his chair, looking out his window. "And it's so hard to believe. I've known Dr. Hart for ten years, and he's a fine man. So is O'Donnell, despite all the hair and the hip bullshit. Dr. Sennet has been controversial sometimes, but he's a good therapist."

"I'm most interested in O'Donnell, Sennet, and Halburton," Lucas said. "They were both nearby when the food deliveries were made, I mean, right there."

Cale spun back to face them and shook his head. "I can make one suggestion: we could hope that whatever went into the cell stayed there. They could have flushed it, or eaten it, but sometimes… people like this will hold on to something as an artifact. A trophy. If we lock them down and shake down the cells, we might come up with one of the notes. That might give us something."

"Do that," Lucas said. "There's nothing we can do to help you-but I want the personnel files on those fourteen people. I'll need to copy them and take them back to St. Paul; and I'd like to get copies of the tapes, if I could. I don't know-maybe we missed something, because we were going through them too fast."

"I'll get it started," Cale said. He pushed himself heavily out of his chair and said, "God Almighty."

LUCAS CALLED THE Blue Earth County sheriff's office and gave them the information about the murder having been done in a creek, in a place remote enough that Peterson could scream and not be heard; but because of the search for a white car, Lucas couldn't believe that the killer would drive far with the body.

So: a creek close to the point where the body was found.

That done, he joined Sloan in Xeroxing the fourteen personnel files, while Cale organized the shakedown. They were halfway through with the paper when Cale came back to say that they were doing all three cells simultaneously, and included body-cavity searches.

"We're taking out every piece of cloth in there, including the mattresses, all the books, the clothing, everything. We'll shred all of it."

"How long?"

"Another hour. We've got six people working on it. Biggie was very unhappy. Taylor acted like he didn't care, and Chase is gone. I'm thinking of moving him to the medical ward."

THEY WAITED THE HOUR, browsing through the personnel files. Cale came back shaking his head. "Not a thing."

"You couldn't have missed it."

"No. You don't even want to know where we looked."

Lucas exhaled, slapped his knees, and stood up. "Dr. Cale, thank you. You've been a big help. We've made serious progress here. We're gonna tear up these files and maybe call you back tomorrow with some questions."

"You're gonna get the guy?" Cale asked.

"Yeah. Soon, now. A few days, at most."

Cale looked down the hall, where a woman was pushing another woman in a wheelchair, both of them laughing. "I wish we heard more of that around here. Not enough of that."