Felicia took note. ‘Hey. You okay?’

‘I just need a second here,’ he said, but he made no move to walk on.

After a few more seconds, Striker ignored Felicia’s worried stare, and looked around the place. Everything felt darker in here now. The walls seemed higher, the corridors narrower. Straight ahead was the receptionist’s desk, and behind it was a room fronted by a large glass pane. Through the glass, Striker could see an entire wall of file folders.

The records room.

He pointed to it, if only to divert Felicia’s lingering look, and said, ‘The file we want will be in there – unless someone has already gotten rid of it.’ He got himself moving again. He walked on through the foyer and reached the front desk. As he did so, the receptionist he had spoken with earlier in the afternoon exited the records room. The muscles of her face were tight beneath the skin and her eyes looked tired. She looked up and spotted them, then came to a hard stop, her shoes almost slipping on the white tiles of the hospital floor.

‘Oh. Detective.’ She looked from Striker to Felicia and back again. ‘I heard about what happened out there. With Billy. And, well . . . I’m sorry.’ As she spoke the words, her fingers tightened on the file she was holding, her long red nails digging into the white cardboard.

Striker read the label on the tab. It was the one he had come here for:

William Stephen Mercury.

‘What are you doing with that?’ he asked.

The nurse blinked as if coming out of a bad dream, then looked down at the file in her hands. ‘This? Oh yes. Well . . . Dr Ostermann wanted it. He wants to review the history. See what went wrong. See if there were any warning signs he might have missed – he’s quite upset over the whole matter and he blames himself. He’s always so . . . protective of his patients. He’s taking this quite hard.’

Striker nodded. ‘I completely understand. Unfortunately, him seeing it won’t be possible just yet. We’re actually here to seize that file.’

The woman said nothing back. Felicia stepped forward and took the file from her.

‘Oh dear,’ the woman said. ‘Dr Ostermann—’

‘Can speak to me whenever he needs to,’ Striker finished.

As if on cue, Dr Ostermann came marching around the corner of the west corridor. His skin was covered in a fine sheen of perspiration. His eyes looked dark and large behind the glasses, and when he caught sight of them they grew even larger. He stopped walking, looked at them for a brief moment, then continued across the foyer.

‘Detectives.’ He looked directly at Felicia. ‘I trust you are well?’

She bumped her fist over her chest. ‘Heart’s a Timex. Keeps on ticking.’

Dr Ostermann licked his lips, almost nervously. ‘Well, that is so very good to hear, Detective Santos. After what happened out there . . . when the shot went off and the way you fell down . . .’

Felicia nodded. ‘It’s all over now.’

Dr Ostermann’s eyes fell from Felicia’s face to the file folder in her hands and his expression darkened.

‘Is that my file?’ he asked.

‘It’s our file now,’ Striker said. ‘We’re seizing it.’

‘Seizing it? But . . . I still need to go through it. Review our sessions. See what went wrong.’ He gave them both a desperate look. ‘Detectives, you must understand, I’m mandated to—’

‘I’m not unreasonable,’ Striker said. ‘We can make you a copy.’

This seemed to placate the doctor. He nodded slowly to the receptionist, and she then led Felicia into the back room. Moments later, Striker could hear the loud hum of an old photocopier working. As they waited for the copies, Striker studied Ostermann’s posture and expression. The man seemed highly strung and fidgety.

It made sense, given all that had happened.

‘Why did you leave?’ Striker asked.

Dr Ostermann blinked. ‘I’m sorry?’

‘Burnaby General. The hospital. Why did you leave? You knew we needed to talk to you.’

Dr Ostermann splayed his hands. ‘I knew you could find me here any time you desired – a man of my position cannot hide from anything, as I’m sure you well know.’ He gestured to the area around them and raised a finger, as if sermonizing. ‘Look at this place. Mapleview. My clinic. It was in absolute chaos. Everyone was traumatized. I had to return here as soon as possible to rectify the situation.’

‘That sounds a tad melodramatic,’ Striker said.

‘I had my staff to consider, Detective. And the other patients. Appointments were scheduled. Medications due. The entire clinic was in an uproar over what had happened. I simply had to be here.’

‘What about Dr Richter?’ Striker said.

‘I have left messages,’ was all he said. His face took on a tired look, and he absently rubbed his brow.

Striker just watched the man and said nothing more. When Felicia and the receptionist returned, he took the file from them and casually flipped it open. It was thick, compartmentalized. And as he paged back through the entries, he noticed one more thing.

The file was incomplete. Huge periods of time were missing.

He looked up and met the doctor’s eyes. ‘Where’s the rest of it?’

‘The rest?’

Striker smiled. ‘You like doing that, don’t you?’

‘Doing what?’

‘Repeating my questions. Is that a practised technique of yours? A way to delay time and think your answers through?’ When Dr Ostermann said nothing back, Striker continued. ‘Huge chunks of time are missing in this file. So I will ask you one more time, Doctor, where is the rest of the file?’

Dr Ostermann’s face tightened. ‘There is no rest of the file, Detective. Any parts that are missing are unfortunately somewhere in the system.’ He adjusted his glasses, and continued. ‘Before coming out west, Billy was also being seen by army psychologists in Ottawa. He went back there several times. Not much is known about these sessions. I’ve requested copies of that file many times myself, but have never received so much as a response from the military. Which is not surprising. It all comes down to financial liability in these matters. And you know how secretive the army is with all their records.’

Striker leafed through the folder. There were many gaps in time. ‘What about the rest of the missing patches?’

Dr Ostermann shrugged. ‘Billy bounced around the system for quite some time before finding me. A few years at least. I began seeing him just under three years ago – and all our time is documented precisely in this file or the one we keep at Riverglen. There are two, after all; he was unfortunately sectioned for some time.’

Striker and Felicia shared a glance at hearing this. Then Striker spoke again. ‘So Billy saw another doctor around here?’

‘Well, yes. Before me, Billy saw many different doctors. I’m not privy to all that information. And to be perfectly honest with you, I don’t even know what other files exist. Billy was something of a ghost in the system. I did the best I could for him. And I failed terribly.’

The words seemed to take a toll on the doctor, and his posture slumped. Behind him, the receptionist worked hard at trying to look busy, but the blush of her cheeks gave away her discomfort with the situation.

Striker said nothing for a long moment, waiting out Dr Ostermann to see if the man would say more. When he did not, and instead remained completely silent, Striker gave Felicia a glance, and she spoke up.

‘Did Billy ever see Dr Richter?’ she asked.

This seemed to surprise Dr Ostermann, and he blinked. ‘Dr Richter? Well, yes. But only when I was unable to attend the sessions – which was a rare occasion indeed.’

‘But there were times?’ Striker pressed.

Dr Ostermann nodded. ‘There were. A few.’

‘Well, we’ve tried to get hold of this Dr Richter several times—’

‘Dr Richter is away,’ Dr Ostermann replied. ‘On leave for personal reasons I am not allowed to divulge. I have no other contact information, other than the cell-phone number you were given. I would suggest you leave another message like I did.’