Okay, I’ve had it. I’m going to find out what’s taking so long. And I’m not going to wait for the wheelchair.

She climbed off the table and her bare feet slapped onto the cold floor. She took two steps, and realized that her arm was still tethered by the IV to a plastic bag of saline. She moved the bag to a rolling IV pole and wheeled it to the door. Looking into the hallway, she saw no one. Not a nurse or an orderly or an X-ray tech.

Well, this was reassuring. They’d forgotten all about her.

She headed down the windowless hall, pushing her IV pole, the wheels shimmying as they rolled over linoleum. She passed one open doorway, then another, and saw vacant procedure tables, deserted rooms. Where had everyone gone? In the short time she’d been sleeping, they had all disappeared.

Has it really been only half an hour?

She halted in that empty hallway, gripped by the sudden, Twilight Zone thought that while she’d been asleep, everyone else in the world had vanished. She glanced up and down the hallway, trying to remember the route back to the waiting area. She had not been paying attention when the technician had wheeled her into the procedure room. Opening a door, she saw an office. Opened another door and found a file room.

No people.

She began to pad faster through the warren of hallways, the IV pole clattering beside her. What kind of hospital was this, anyway, leaving a poor pregnant woman all alone? She was going to complain, damn right, she was going to complain. She could be in labor! She could be dying! Instead, she was royally pissed off, and that was not the mood you wanted a pregnant woman to be in. Not this pregnant woman.

At last she spotted the exit sign, and with choice words already on her lips, she yanked open the door. At her first glimpse into the waiting room, she did not immediately understand the situation. Mr. Bodine was still strapped to his wheelchair and parked in the corner. The ultrasound technician and the receptionist were huddled together on one of the couches. On the other couch, Dr. Tam sat next to the black orderly. What was this, a tea party? While she’d been forgotten in the back room, why had her doctor been lounging out here on the couch?

Then she spotted the medical chart lying on the floor, and she saw the toppled mug, the spilled coffee splattered across the rug. And she realized that Dr. Tam was not lounging; her back was rigid, the muscles of her face tight with fear. Her eyes were not focused on Jane, but on something else.

That’s when Jane understood. Someone is standing right behind me.

Maura sat in the mobile operations command trailer, surrounded by telephones, TVs, and laptop computers. The air-conditioning was not working, and the trailer had to be well over ninety degrees inside. Officer Emerton, who was monitoring radio chatter, fanned himself as he gulped from a bottle of water. But Captain Hayder, Boston PD’s special ops commander, looked perfectly cool as he studied the CAD diagrams now displayed on the computer monitor. Beside him sat the hospital’s facilities manager, pointing out the relevant features on the blueprints.

“The area where she’s now holed up is Diagnostic Imaging,” said the manager. “That used to be the hospital’s old X-ray wing, before we moved it into the new addition. I’m afraid that’s going to present a big problem for you, Captain.”

“What problem?” said Hayder.

“There’s lead shielding in these outside walls, and there are no exterior windows or doors in that wing. You’re not going to be able to blast your way in from the outside. Or toss in a tear gas canister.”

“And the only way into Diagnostic Imaging is through this interior hallway door?”

“Correct.” The manager looked at Hayder. “I take it she’s locked that door?”

Hayder nodded. “Which means she’s trapped herself in there. We’ve pulled our men back down the hall, so they’re not in the direct line of fire if she decides to make a run.”

“She’s in a dead end. The only way out is going to be through your men. For the moment, you’ve got her locked up tight. But conversely, you are going to have a hard time getting in.”

“So we’re at an impasse.”

The manager clicked the mouse, zooming in on a section of the blueprint. “Now, there is one possibility here, depending on where in that particular wing she’s chosen to hole up. The lead shielding is built into all these diagnostic areas. But here in the waiting room, the walls aren’t shielded.”

“What building materials are we talking about there?”

“Plaster. Drywall. You could easily drill through this ceiling from the floor above.” The facilities manager looked at Hayder. “But all she has to do then is pull back into the lead-shielded area, and she’s untouchable.”

“Excuse me,” cut in Maura.

Hayder turned to her, blue eyes sharp with irritation. “Yes?” he snapped.

“Can I leave now, Captain Hayder? There’s nothing else I can tell you.”

“Not yet.”

“How much longer?”

“You’ll have to wait here until our hostage negotiator can interview you. He wanted all witnesses retained.”

“I’ll be happy to talk to him, but there’s no reason I have to sit in here. My office is right across the street. You know where to find me.”

“That’s not close enough, Dr. Isles. We need to keep you sequestered.” Already, Hayder was turning his attention back to the CAD display, her protest of no concern to him. “Things are moving fast, and we can’t waste time tracking down witnesses who wander off.”

“I won’t wander off. And I’m not the only witness. There were nurses taking care of her.”

“We’ve sequestered them as well. We’re talking to all of you.”

“And there was that doctor, in her room. He was right there when it happened.”

“Captain Hayder?” said Emerton, turning from the radio. “First four floors are now evacuated. They can’t move the critically ill patients from the upper floors, but we’ve got all nonessentials out of the building.”

“Our perimeters?”

“The inner is now established. They’ve got the barricades up in the hallway. We’re still awaiting more personnel to tighten the outer perimeter.”

The TV above Hayder’s head was tuned to a local Boston station, with the sound turned off. It was a live news broadcast, the images startlingly familiar. That’s Albany Street, Maura thought. And there’s the command trailer where, at this moment, I’m being held prisoner. While the city of Boston was watching the drama play out on their TV screens, she was trapped at the center of the crisis.

The sudden rocking of the trailer made her turn toward the door, and she saw a man step in. Another cop, she thought, noting the weapon holstered at his hip, but this man was shorter and far less imposing than Hayder. Sweat had shellacked sparse strands of brown hair to his bright red scalp.

“Christ, it’s even hotter in here,” the man said. “Isn’t your AC on?”

“It’s on,” said Emerton. “But it’s not worth shit. We didn’t have time to get it serviced. It’s hell on the electronics.”

“Not to mention the people,” the man said, his gaze settling on Maura. He held out his hand to her. “You’re Dr. Isles, right? I’m Lieutenant Leroy Stillman. They’ve called me in to try to calm things down. See if we can resolve this without any violence.”

“You’re the hostage negotiator.”

He gave a modest shrug. “That’s what they call me.”

They shook hands. Perhaps it was his unassuming appearance-the hang-dog face, the balding head-that put her at ease. Unlike Hayder, who seemed to be driven by pure testosterone, this man regarded her with a quiet and patient smile. As if he had all the time in the world to talk to her. He looked at Hayder. “This trailer is unbearable. She shouldn’t have to sit in here.”