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He’d checked emergency departments at all the Lower Mainland hospitals besides St. Joe’s, and of course the Vancouver police had Shannon’s description.
    He’d interviewed the firemen who’d been first onthe scene in the apartment, he’d talked to the paramedics and the staff in the ER, and of course he was keeping close contact with David’s doctor, Harry Larue.
    Roy had other cases, far too many of them to be able to devote a full working day to David’s situation. As always, he was forced to do a great deal of work on his own time. And he was starting to really begrudge the fact that his private life and his profession were one and the same.

CHAPTER FIVE
    S HANNON R IGGS came out of drugged oblivion and her first thoughts were of Davie, but the thought of him made the pain in her chest too sharp. She shoved the images of her son down into a dark box in her mind and tried to slam the lid.
    Shaking and sweating, she struggled to figure out where she was. It was stifling hot. Sunlight penetrated through a rip in the dark-green curtains, and she could hear the sound of traffic outside. A picture of sunflowers was screwed to the wall, and a closed door must lead to a bathroom. A motel room, she decided.
    She propped herself up on one elbow and studied the face of the husky man sleeping beside her. He wasn’t Murphy, and to the best of her knowledge she’d never seen him before. Her stomach lurched. She felt nauseated.
    She slid out of bed. Her legs were rubbery, and she had trouble making it to the bathroom without falling. Her head felt as if it was about to explode, and the drug need went crawling through her veins like a hungry snake, making her itchy and edgy and frantic and sick.
    For an instant memories surfaced, police cars, anambulance in front of her apartment, urgent voices floating to her in the hot afternoon. A stretcher with a small figure on it—they were taking Davie away, and she had to stop them.
    She’d tried to get out of Rudy’s car, but he’d grabbed her, pulled her back inside, then driven off as Murphy held her. She’d writhed and screamed and fought to get loose, but Murphy was strong.
    â€œYou’re high, baby, they’ll toss you in the slammer. The kid’s okay. They’re takin’ care of him. Here, have some of this—it’ll make you feel better.”
    And from then until now, she couldn’t remember anything.
    She retched into the toilet, gasping for breath, disgust and fear and shame gnawing at her soul. Where was her son? Terror and emptiness made it hard to breathe.
    The door opened, and the man stood there, squinting down at her.
    â€œYou okay, doll? That was some party, huh? I got some stuff left—you want some?”
    She shook her head. She managed to get to her feet, turn on the hot water in the shower and step inside. She pulled the curtain and turned the tap until the spray was as hot as it would get. It beat down on her face, and gradually the pain in her chest became unbearable. She opened her mouth and tried to howl, but no sound came out.
    She’d deserted her baby son, the one thing in her life that was precious and clean and innocent. She’d betrayed him, and in doing that, she’d become the person she’d been running from for so many years.
    She’d become her own mother.
    She wanted to die, but she’d tried before and it wasn’t easy.
    Â 
    R OY LOCKED the office door behind him, aware that he was the last one in the building, apart from the cleaning staff. It was almost nine o’clock, and he hadn’t eaten since noon. He was famished, and he hated eating alone. He also hadn’t seen Nicole for a while. On impulse he dialed her cell-phone number, and after a few rings she answered.
    â€œI’m just leaving the office. If you’re not busy, I wondered if you wanted to grab a burger. Or at least talk to me while I wolf a couple