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ring.
    â€œEddie England.” England had partnered with Devereaux for a spell three years previously, before moving to Vice on the promise of a promotion. One that had yet to materialize.
    â€œEddie—it’s Cooper. Listen, buddy, I don’t have a lot of time so I’ll come straight to the point. Quick question. Jan Loflin. What can you tell me about her?”
    â€œNot much.” There was a moment’s silence. “I was only on the same squad as her for a few months. She seemed nice enough. Quiet. Didn’t hang out at the usual cop bars too much. Kept herself to herself outside of the job.”
    â€œHow about when she was working?”
    â€œShe was a mixed bag, I guess. In some ways, she was brilliant. Undercover? She was a chameleon. Seriously. Think Meryl Streep, only better.”
    â€œSounds impressive.”
    â€œRight. But in other ways, she was a disaster. Like she had tunnel vision. If she didn’t get something, or agree with it, or if it didn’t fit with the way she wanted things to be, she’d just blank it. Act like it didn’t exist. Live in denial till she got written up for procedure violations. Happened at least twice, to my knowledge. It was weird. Hey—why do you need to know all this?”
    â€œShe’s landed in my squad for a while. She’s working a case with me. And I need to be sure, bottom line—is she a flake? Or can I trust her?”
    England took a few seconds to consider.
    â€œYou can trust her, Cooper. Just don’t marry her.”
    â€œThanks, Ed. I won’t. I’m not the marrying type. You know that. Listen, thanks again. Got to go…”
    â€”
    The detectives added a little variety to the questions they put to the nurses from the late shift, but they drew the same kinds of answers. And again, Loflin’s demeanor subtly adjusted with each new face that came through the door. Her body language altered to mirror her subject. The tone of her voice shifted, too. Sometimes she came across as sympathetic. Sometimes hard. Sometimes amused. But every time one of Mary Lynne’s co-workers tried to hide an agenda, Loflin sniffed it out. She had an uncanny, intuitive ability to latch onto any false note in an anecdote or opinion and not let go until she heard the truth.
    When the door shut behind the final nurse, Devereaux and Loflin had to admit they’d uncovered nothing conclusive. No one had noticed any worrying traits in Mary Lynne’s behavior. No one could cast any credible doubt on her ability or commitment as a parent. It was unlikely she’d handle triazolam on a regular basis, due to the kind of patients she came into contact with and potential contraindications with the other types of drugs they used in the unit. But it wasn’t impossible. There were a few situations where triazolam could be legitimately prescribed. And there was a fully stocked pharmacy onsite.
    Devereaux’s experience was that people have ways of getting hold of whatever they want, if they’re motivated enough.

Chapter Eighteen
    Saturday. Late Afternoon
.
    Ethan missing for twenty-one and a quarter hours
    The sun was hovering lazily over the rooftops when Devereaux and Loflin emerged from reception. Drops of water from the hospital’s fountain were refracting its beams into tiny rainbows that hung briefly in the air before splashing down into the uniform blue of the pool. Devereaux watched them for a moment, then his focus switched to a man on the far side of the concourse. He was pacing to and fro, and talking rapidly into his phone.
    â€œLook.” Devereaux stopped moving. “What’s that guy doing here?”
    â€œHe was outside the Crane house earlier, with that herd of reporters.” Loflin’s forehead wrinkled. “I nearly hit him with my car.”
    â€œVery nearly.” Devereaux took hold of Loflin’s shoulder. “Maybe you should have hit him. Ever read his blog?