Roger picked up the sheet containing these seven names. Although it was more people than he had expected, he thought he could deal with seven. As he read over them again, he couldn't help but notice how much the surnames reflected the ethnic heterogeneity of American culture. He felt he could guess the general ancestral origins of all except Rakoczi, although if pressed, he'd say Eastern European. He looked at the various departments involved and realized that all of them would have access to patients in some form or fashion, particularly during the night shift, when oversight was at a minimum. Vaguely, he wondered if he should try to talk Rosalyn into getting him their St. Francis records. Now that he had the beginning of a personal relationship with her, perhaps he would be able to get the information without her sending up a red flag, but there were no guarantees. Yet how else was he to proceed?

Putting the paper down next to the list of anesthesiologists, Roger looked at his watch. It was now a quarter after two in the morning. He shook his head. He couldn't remember the last time he had stayed up so late working. He guessed it had been back in his medical residency. It was a bit depressing, thinking of most of the rest of the city sleeping, but at least he wasn't tired. The bolus of caffeine he'd gotten down in the coffee shop was still coursing around in his bloodstream, making him feel antsy. He even noticed that he'd been unconsciously tapping his right foot. He wished it were about ten P.M. instead of two A.M., because now that he had all these potential suspects, he would love to call Laurie and maybe even suggest that he pop over to her apartment. Unfortunately, that was out of the question. As upset as she was about her BRCA1 situation, he was surely not going to wake her up.

Thinking about the hour made Roger realize that for the first time since he'd been employed at Manhattan General, he was actually in the hospital during the night shift when all the questionable deaths that he and Laurie were interested in had occurred. With the caffeine on board, sleep was out of the question, and as long as he was in the sleuthing mood, he might as well check out the surgical floor where more than half of the questionable deaths had occurred and, while he was at it, at least some of his so-called suspects. With that idea in mind, he picked up the records of the two anesthesiologists and the sheet with the seven individuals who'd transferred from the night shift at St. Francis to the night shift at the General. He looked over them again, committing the names to memory.

Roger was about to get up when another thought occurred to him. Given how wired he was, he knew he'd be up most of the night. Since he'd need some sleep, he'd likely not be back to the office until late morning. With that in mind, Roger dialed Laurie's extension at work.

"It's me, Roger," he said to Laurie's voicemail. "It's after two in the morning, but your suggestion about Saint Francis was on target. It's produced a lot of potential suspects, certainly more than I expected, so I have to give you credit. I'm looking forward to sharing it all with you, and maybe we could get together tomorrow night for dinner. At the moment, I'm heading upstairs to do a bit more detective work, like check out the surgical floor and meet some of the people on my lists while they are on duty. As a teaser, let me tell you about one of the night-shift anesthesiologists, Motilal Najah. I interviewed him when he applied for a staff position. Anyway, I had forgotten that he had come from Saint Francis right after the holidays. Is that a coincidence or what? And he's just the tip of the iceberg. Anyway, I'm going to be here another few hours, so I might not be back here in my office until possibly noon or early afternoon. I'll call you as soon as I get in. Ciao!"

Roger hung up the phone and looked at the list of the seven nonphysicians who'd also transferred to the General during the period in question, and he wondered if he should have run down the list for Laurie. More than anything else, he wanted to fan her interest as much as possible, in the hope that she'd accept the idea of getting together. He thought about calling again to add to his message, but then decided the message he'd given was enough of a teaser.

After donning the long, white coat he wore whenever he ventured out into the hospital, Roger walked the length of the administration area. He'd been there a few times in the evenings, but never after midnight. At this hour, it was like a mausoleum.

The main hospital corridor was empty, save for a person using a floor polisher in the distance. As he rode up in the elevator, he was amazed at how wide-awake and energized he felt. He also recognized a touch of euphoria, which unfortunately reminded him of heroin. He shook his head. He didn't want to fall into that trap. For doctors, such temptation is harder to fight, with drugs so easily available.

Roger got out at the third floor and pushed through a pair of swinging doors into the OR complex. He found himself in a deserted corridor. To his right, the sound of a TV issued forth from the arched opening leading into the surgical lounge. Hoping to run into some of the surgical staff, he walked in.

The room was about thirty feet square, with windows that looked out onto the same courtyard as the staff cafeteria did. Two opposing doors led into the locker rooms. The furniture consisted of a couple of gray vinyl couches, a smattering of chairs, and several dictating desks. A central coffee table was littered with newspapers, outdated magazines, and an open box of pizza. A corner TV was tuned to CNN, but no one was watching. In another corner was a small refrigerator with a communal coffee pot on top.

Ten people were sitting in the room, all dressed in the same unisex scrubs. Some had hats or hoods, and some didn't. Although the OR appeared egalitarian, Roger knew otherwise. It was the most hierarchical domain of the hospital. Most of the people in the room were reading and munching on various snacks while sipping coffee, while others chatted.

Roger went over to the coffee machine. He debated having more, not to keep awake, but more as a social ploy, as well as an ostensible reason to be there. He hadn't recognized anyone in the room. Believing he was adequately wired, he opened the refrigerator and opted for a small orange juice.

With his drink in hand, Roger swept his eyes around to look more closely at the various people. No one had paid him any heed when he'd come in, but now a woman made eye contact and smiled. Roger walked over to her and introduced himself.

"I know you," the woman said. "We met at the Christmas party. My name is Cindy Delgada. I'm one of the nurses. We don't get admin visitors very often. What brings you up here in the middle of the night?"

Roger shrugged. "I was working late, and I thought I'd wander around a bit for some human contact and see the hospital in action."

A wry smile appeared on Cindy's face. "Not much excitement with this somnolent group. If you're looking for entertainment, I suggest the ER."

Roger laughed to be polite. "No cases tonight?"

"Oh, yeah," Cindy said. "We've done two, there's one going on right now in room six, and we have another coming up from the ER within the hour."

"Do you know Dr. José Cabreo?"

"Of course," Cindy said while pointing to a pale, heavyset man in a chair by the window. "Dr. Cabreo is right over there."

Hearing his name, José lowered his paper and looked over at Roger. He had a bushy mustache that hid most of his mouth. His eyebrows rose expectantly under the edge of his surgical cap.

Roger felt obligated to walk over. He hadn't necessarily planned to talk with the two anesthesiologists directly; his informal game plan had been to engage the OR staff in casual conversation about the men to see if he could get a feel for their personalities. Roger wasn't fooling himself. He was no psychiatrist and had no delusions that he'd be able to recognize a serial killer unless the person out-and-out told him, yet he had a vague idea that he would be able to sense if either man could be a potential suspect.