trouble.'
Daniel stared at her, then at Carter, who was whimpering and breathing hard. His neck was red and raw, already starting to swell. He coughed, gurgled.
Daniel stepped away from the bed. Hauser moved between him and Carter.
'I'm sorry about your daughter, but you've tormented an innocent man.'
A hard-faced old woman.
He stared at her, knew she was telling the truth. Carter was vomiting onto the sheets. Hauser brought a metal basin, held it under his chin, wiped him with a washcloth.
Sick as a dog. Four days in bed.
Not Carter on the nightwalk.
Shifting identities.
A manipulative psychopath.
Carter rocked and shook violently. Spit up clear mucus and groaned.
Not acting.
'Please leave, Inspector,' said Hauser.
Not Carter. Then who?
Oh, God, who?
Then he thought of the watchman's warning: When Mr. Baldwin returns you'll be in big-
When Mr. Baldwin returns from where?
According to the surveillance log, the administrator hadn't left the Amelia Catherine since Sunday morning.
Shifting identities.
Exchanging identities.
Dr. Terrific.
Runs the place. Boss over the doctors.
Takes on an alter ego when he goes out to kill.
Carter on nightwalk-but not Carter.
False Hassid.
False Arab driving a white Mercedes diesel. Carrying cardboard boxes labeled records. No beard.
Judged possibly large enough to conceal a human body if the body was bent to the point of contortion.
Or small.
A child's body.
He granted Hauser her wish. Ran for the door labeled BALDWIN, S.T.
Locked.
He aimed the Beretta, shattered the lock, stepped in, ready to kill.
A large room, tile-floored and whitewashed, twice the size of Carter's
Blueprint recall; storage pantry.
Big, cast-iron bed. The covers drawn and tucked military tight. Neat and clean, everything in its place.
A Hassid's clothes folded neatly on the bed. False red beard, eyeglasses.
Something shiny and green.
A butterfly pin, silver filigree with malachite eyes.
Not a sign of the monster.
No Shoshi.
He followed the Beretta into the bathroom.
No one.
Luggage in the corner: three suitcases, packed tight and fastened.
A messy one, Danny.
Swallowing his fear, he opened them.
Only clothes in the two bigger ones, neatly folded. He scooped his hands under the garments, tossed them out, opened the smallest.
Toiletries, a shaving kit. False mustaches, wigs, more beards, bottle of hair dye, tubes of theatrical makeup.
