All the fucked-up shit that had happened in the last few hours had sobered him up but left him as jittery as hell. He sure could use a drink or a hit from a joint. Or both would be even better. He needed to get a buzz.

The front door opened, and a blast of cold night air rushed inside, carrying with it a wave of powdery snow. Carl looked up at Sokowski, whose face was flushed red, and his hard eyes were even more bloodshot than the last time Carl had seen him.

“Where’s Doc Pete at?”

Carl shrugged. “In his office, I suppose.”

Sokowski glanced over at the office door, then turned back toward Carl. “You didn’t say nothing, did you?”

“Naw. Didn’t say nothing.”

Carl pointed down the hall, then returned his fingers into his mouth. Tore off a piece of nail and spit it out. “Sheriff ask you anything? Doesn’t suspect anything, does he?” Carl asked, and immediately recoiled from Sokowski’s cold, dead expression.

“Nothing to suspect. Unless you went running your mouth.”

“I ain’t stupid, Mike. Kept my mouth shut like you told me to.”

Sokowski muttered at him and strode down the hall toward the exam room, and Carl could tell by the way he walked that he’d been drinking again.

“What are you doing?” Carl asked.

Sokowski put his hand on the doorknob and gave him a look. “Gonna have a little talk with the retard, is what.” He swung open the exam-room door and stepped in.

It was cold inside the room. Felt like a walk-in cooler. The window on the back wall stood wide open, and snow was spitting inside. Most of the snow melted as soon as it hit the floor and left behind puddles of water covering the linoleum tiles. Sokowski looked around the empty room, eyes stopping on the paper covering the exam table that was dotted with dried blood.

Sokowski glanced back to Carl. “Fucker’s gone.”

Carl walked behind him but didn’t say anything. He just stood there, looking guilty as he continued picking at his fingers.

Sokowski walked to the back of the exam room, peered out the window, took off his hat, and ran his fingers through his hair. He was almost smiling.

“This is good. Hell yes. This is real good.”

“But Danny’s gone.”

“Shit. What do we do?” Carl asked.

“That, dumb-ass, is obvious. We go and tell the sheriff the truth. Prisoner got loose, and a killer is on the run. Danny did us a big fucking favor.”

Carl looked around the exam room. “Wasn’t my fault. I don’t want to get blamed for nothing.”

Sokowski glanced at Carl, and his eyes narrowed a bit as an idea took form. “You’re right about that. It wasn’t. You put up much of a fight?”

“Huh?”

“Danny outweighs you by a hundred or so pounds.” Sokowski took a yellowed handkerchief that got plenty of use from his back pocket and wrapped it around his knuckles. “You did all you could, but the son of a bitch was strong and scared out of his mind, and he put a hurting on anything in his path.”

Carl watched Sokowski tighten the handkerchief around his fist and hold it down at his side. Carl stopped picking at his fingers. “We really gotta do it like this?”

“Yeah, we really do. Gotta make this look believable.” Sokowski was really grinning now. “The sheriff didn’t have Danny cuffed, so he sucker-punched you and escaped out the window. It was over before you knew it. When I got here, you were still scraping yourself off the floor. That’s the story. Short and sweet. You got any questions?”