Regarding Sheridan’s comment, Marybeth just shook her head. Her eyes were hard.

“What does the doctor say?” Sheridan asked.

Marybeth took a deep breath as if to put her anger with Joe aside for a moment. “They’ve completely stopped the propofol drip. Now it’s a waiting game. They’re thinking she should regain consciousness by midmorning. They’ll watch her vital signs all night and be on the alert for problems.”

“What kinds of problems?” Lucy asked.

“Maybe a seizure,” Marybeth said, reaching out and putting her hand on Lucy’s shoulder. “It could be anything, I guess. But if she comes out of it on schedule and without problems, well, we’ll know something tomorrow.”

Lucy nodded.

“There’s nothing we can do tonight except be with her and pray,” Marybeth said softly.

“We could eat,” Sheridan said. When both Marybeth and Lucy looked at her, she said, “Sorry, that sounded bad. What I meant was, we should have dinner and maybe get checked into the hotel. Then we could do shifts during the night so everyone gets at least a little sleep.”

Marybeth considered it for a moment, then nodded briskly. Sheridan knew how much her mother loved a mission. “You’re right. I’ll call the hotel, and I’ll get some dinner recommendations from the front desk. What do you girls want to eat?”

“Not elk steak,” Lucy said.

“I’d like elk steak,” Sheridan said, gently shoving her sister, who smiled. “I miss it.”

Marybeth rolled her eyes, then told them she was off to make the calls. She said she also had to meet with the financial representative at the hospital administrative office about still-unresolved insurance issues.

“Are you two going to stay out here in the snow until it gets dark?” Marybeth asked.

Sheridan shrugged.

“Okay, I’ll find you.”

A few moments after their mother had left, Sheridan said, “Are you sure he’s here?”

Lucy nodded.

“Where?”

“On the same floor. But they won’t let us see him.”

“We’ll see about that. Follow me.”

Lucy said, “Are we going to get in trouble?”

“Maybe. But he’s my master falconer. I have a right to see him.”

To Lucy, it sort of made sense. And if Sheridan was willing to try it, why shouldn’t she?

—

SHERIDAN HAD DISCOVERED the storage room earlier that afternoon as she wandered the hallways. She told Lucy she’d watched a hospital staffer in scrubs push a laundry cart down the hallway to the door and press four buttons on a keypad to release the lock. The staffer didn’t seem to notice that Sheridan was watching over his shoulder and that she could see which numbers he pressed. She’d waited for the man to leave before trying the code. It worked.

Sheridan pressed 7-7-7-1 and the two girls slipped inside and shut the door behind them.

The room seemed to serve as a transfer station between the hospital rooms and the laundry on some other floor. Carts of old scrubs and bed linens were crowded inside, and the walls were lined with shelving filled with clean bedsheets, towels, and other linens.

“Find something that will fit,” Sheridan said, leaning over and rooting through the nearest cart. She pulled out a light green scrub top and held it to her chest, then discarded it as too large. “Try not to find something with blood on it.”

Lucy froze.

“What, did you forget this was a hospital?”

“I’m not sure we should be doing this,” Lucy said.

“It’s an adventure,” Sheridan said, pulling a pair of short, wrinkled scrub bottoms out of the pile. “Here—try these. An elf must have worn them and they might fit you.”

“Funny,” Lucy said drily.

“And look what we’ve got here,” Sheridan said, opening the top drawer of a gray metal desk. Lucy could see it was filled with ID badges and lanyards.

“Probably people who don’t work here anymore,” Sheridan said, handing one to Lucy and looping another over her own head.

Lucy looked at the photo of a heavyset Hispanic woman on the ID Sheridan had given her, and said, “I don’t look anything like Lupé Rodriguez.”

Sheridan waved her off. “No one ever checks these things,” she said, as if she’d done it a thousand times before. “Just watch my lead.”

—

SHERIDAN CRACKED OPEN the door and peeked outside. Their streetclothes were on one of the shelves. Now Sheridan wore pale green and Lucy wore pale blue. Both sets of scrubs were wrinkled but clean.

“Clear,” she said.

“Which way?” Sheridan asked Lucy once they were in the hallway. Lucy gestured toward the end of the hall, then right.

Sheridan walked with haste and whispered, “Move right along, Lucy. Pretend you have a purpose.”

Lucy giggled.

“And don’t giggle. Act like you belong here. And remember: if we get there, we’ve got to get in and get out fast before someone sees us or Mom comes back.”

Lucy nodded. She glanced at their reflection in a window as they strode past. They looked authentic, she thought. She’d always liked dressing up, much more than Sheridan or April had.

When they turned the corner, there were two people in the hallway. A janitor in scrubs and blue vinyl gloves pushed a dust mop along the baseboard with his back to them. Next to him was a wheeled cart with a bright yellow Rubbermaid garbage bag, two shelves of cleaning supplies, and a sharps disposal tube on the side. A pop-up tent cone was set up where he was mopping that read CAUTION/CUIDADO. Farther down, a woman in a business suit with her back to them strode toward a closed door with a sign on it that read: AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.

“Through there,” Lucy said to Sheridan.

Her sister picked up her pace. She leaned in toward Lucy and said, “We need to get to the door before it closes.”

Lucy nodded that she understood.

The woman in the business suit swiped a key card through a receptacle on the right side of the double doors and there was a soft click. Without turning around, she pushed through.

Sheridan sprinted ahead past the janitor and an empty nurses’ station, Lucy on her heels.

As the doors wheezed shut, Sheridan slid her right foot on the polished floor and wedged it between the two doors before they closed and locked. It was a smooth move, Lucy thought. Sheridan reached back for her hand before pushing through.

The woman in the business suit kept going, her heels clicking like punctuation. She swiped her key card again and vanished inside an office.

As the doors closed behind them, Lucy saw Sheridan look over her shoulder. The janitor had seen them run past him, and Lucy guessed her sister wanted to make sure he wasn’t dashing off to call security.

The doors closed tight and the lock clicked.

Sheridan said to Lucy, “Did that janitor look familiar to you?”

“I was running—I didn’t look at him.”

She shook her head. “There’s no way I could know him, is there?”

Lucy shrugged.

“I got a really bad vibe from him,” Sheridan said. “He’s thin, but athletic-looking, I thought. He’s got tattoos on his forearms and neck, but I guess everybody does these days. Did you see his eyes?”

“I told you I didn’t get a good look at him,” Lucy said.

“He’s got a deadeye stare. He had cold eyes. I got a bad feeling off him. But I’m probably wrong.”

Lucy thought Sheridan was doubting herself. She’d been wrong before, a few months ago, when she thought a fellow student was dangerous. She’d been wrong about the student and the result was tragic. Since then, no doubt, she’d not quite trusted her intuition as she once had. Lucy had never had that problem. She wished she could have gotten a better look at the janitor.

“Okay, never mind,” Sheridan said. “Let’s find Nate.”

“There’s some man who won’t let anyone in,” Lucy said. “Like a guard. I heard Mom and Dad talking about him.”

“We made it this far. We have to try.”

As she said it, a portly man in a sport jacket and tie appeared in the hallway. He was walking toward them, pulling on an overcoat. He didn’t look like a doctor or an administrator and Lucy thought: Oh no.