He knew what was coming, and he knew he deserved it.

"More people look up to you here than you're aware," Sandy said. "You're part of the bedrock of this hospital. I heard you lost your cool pretty badly this morning. That unsettles people. Whether we like it or not, your division is under intense scrutiny because of this case-both internal and external scrutiny."

David took this in, trying to strip away his anger and defensiveness, and find some utility in the information. "Your suggestion?" he asked.

Sandy rose, picked up her tray, which was littered with gutted food containers and fruit rinds, and winked at him. "Keep your clay feet covered."

Chapter 23

YALE emerged from Exam Room Fourteen, jotting something in a worn black leather notepad. A rubber band held several yellow sheets to the top cover, marking his place. As David approached from the cafeteria, Yale flipped the pad shut and slid it into his sport-coat pocket. The two LAPD officers had been replaced by UCLA PD cops, who now stood guard at the door.

"Dr. Spier," Yale said. He took a few steps toward David, perhaps so the officers wouldn't overhear the conversation to come. "We'd like to get the suspect moved to the jail ward at Harbor. As I'm sure you're aware, the ward there is a high-security treatment zone, and we think it will be safer for everyone involved when we get him moved there. Is he stable?"

"I'd like to continue irrigation for a few hours. Alkali continues to burn deep within the skin, even when it looks like it's been cleaned off."

"Yes," Yale said. "We've learned that the hard way."

"I also need to get him stitched up."

"Can't that wait and be handled at Harbor?"

The last time David had checked, Clyde was still reporting pain. David had his hesitations about releasing a patient in a fragile state into the hands of officers who were less than concerned about his health and safety. He thought about how slowly they'd sauntered into the ER with Clyde screaming and burning in their hands. Jenkins's execution pose with his pistol. "I need to keep an eye on him for a few more hours, see how things settle. I don't want him moved in this condition."

"I'd really prefer-"

"Maybe tonight."

"What time?"

"We'll see how he's doing at eight, nine o'clock."

That would give David more time to observe the burn's course and make sure the gashes were stitched and cleaned up. Plus, Jenkins's shift should be over by then. David would be less concerned about turning Clyde over to a more impartial officer.

Yale glanced over his shoulder, and the two officers at the door looked away quickly, pretending they hadn't been eavesdropping. "I'm gonna be honest with you," Yale said. "It's not going well in there. He won't talk to me."

"Maybe you alienated him too much during the arrest."

"Perhaps."

"What took you so long getting him to the ER?"

"We were busy subduing and frisking him. Minor considerations like that." Yale tapped his pen, a cheap Bic ballpoint, against his lips. "I'm thinking maybe you could try to loosen him up for me."

"That's really not my job, Detective Yale. The psych consult will be along shortly, and I'm sure-"

"Dr. Nwankwa. I'm familiar with him and not optimistic he'll be looking to advance our cause."

"Advancing your cause is not his job. Or mine. Our job is to treat patients."

"In any event, I'm not permitting Dr. Nwankwa to see the suspect. This is not the time for a psychiatric assessment."

"Fine. I need Dr. Nwankwa to assess the patient's need for antipsychotic medication. If we can keep Clyde calmed down, that benefits both our agendas." David crossed his arms. "My treatment of this patient will be unimpeded."

Yale studied David with clever, shiny eyes. "You know, Dr. Spier, our jobs share certain similarities. We're both exposed to elements of society few people deal with. We both see people at their worst-in pain, terrified, furious, suicidal, dead. Just like you think I don't know my ass from… Just like you think I don't know much about what goes on in the ER, I can tell you, you don't know much about how things work on the street. Your code of ethics holds up just fine in here, between the scrubbed white walls, but there are different kinds of choices, different kinds of pressures and stresses and concerns out there. This man is a predator-"

"A suspected predator."

"Please keep your voice down, Dr. Spier. I'm saying that this man is a suspected predator, and when you deal with predators at large, free from restraints and backup, you might find your politics sliding slowly to the right."

"My politics are irrelevant to my ethics. I'm sorry you don't understand that."

"I learned my ethics wading through dismembered bodies, drug labs, and homemade torture chambers."

"So tell me, then," David said. "How do you think a suspect should be treated?"

"Is this the issue at stake? You wouldn't be holding this patient for reasons other than to provide critical medical care? As you're well aware, that would be overstepping your bounds, Dr. Spier."