Once on the third floor, Ess's door was just a short distance away. Manda began pounding on it immediately. Of course, they received no answer. Roden's hope completely extinguished at this point. The twisting in his stomach turned into wrenching as he became sick over the thought of Max's actions. It just didn't seem right. Sure Max was obsessed, but this kind of action – kidnapping or any other crime – was not a characteristic behavior of his patient and friend.

"Dammit!" Manda shouted, "Dammit, dammit, dammit!" She pounded the door in rhythm to her words. The noise drew attention. Other residents opened their doors to have a peek at the commotion. It would appear that some of these neighbors already knew Manda, because a few of them rolled their eyes and curled their lips as they returned to their units.

"Shit," Martin added, "What do we do now?"

"For cryin' out loud," Manda shouted at the door instead of her companions. "We call the damn police like I wanted to in the first place."

Roden opened his mouth to agree, but Martin interjected, "What if we can pick the lock? You know, make sure she's not inside." He looked at Roden and Manda, but two blank stares were his only response. He clarified, "What if she's hurt? We can't wait for the police to find out."

"Oh, god, your right!" Manda furrowed her forehead in serious worry. She looked around desperately for an idea to get the door open. Roden joined her in brainstorming.

Meanwhile Martin started using a pocketknife to jimmy the lock on Ess's door. By the time Roden and Manda realized what he was doing, Martin had the doorknob rotating the bolt out of the catch. Roden was thankful that there were no more witnesses hovering in the hall.

Manda looked on, very impressed, as Martin slowly opened the door. He poked his head carefully into the apartment, not wanting to cause or receive any violence if anything might be going on inside. The lights were on in the living room and kitchen, but the place looked empty. He went to swing the door open further, but something blocked it. He looked down. Manda and Roden's eyes followed. Through the cracked door they could discern a body on the floor.

"Oh, god." Roden couldn't help but utter. Was that Max?

CHAPTER EIGHT

Manda took in a sharp breath so that she could let out a horrified shriek, but Roden had the reflexes to grab her and cover her mouth. They didn't need to attract the neighbors' attention again. His action startled Manda into silence. She gave him a disapproving glare, but remained quiet; and Roden knew that it could only be a short-lived miracle.

Roden's own heart pounded hard over the sight in front of them. This was all wrong. From the view he saw of the body on the floor, it appeared to be masculine. Could it be Max? The thought terrified him . . . and yet relieved him. At least, maybe this meant that Esther got away.

Martin pushed the door a few more inches against the weight of the body so that he could slip inside. Roden, who let go of Manda as soon as she backed down from her intended scream, quickly wished he hadn't. Before he could stop her, she slipped through the door right after Martin.

When Roden at last squeezed his own way though the opening, he found Manda standing in the middle of the small living room turning in slow confused circles, apparently looking for signs of what must have happened. Meanwhile, the sounds coming from another part of the apartment indicated that Martin had made for the bedroom to see if Esther or anyone else was still present.

Roden knelt before the body on the floor. He exhaled and felt all the tightened muscles in his body loosen when he confirmed that the man was in fact not Max. But then, who was he?

After a minute strewn with clangs and bangs and the shifting of furniture, Martin reappeared. "Nothing." He joined Roden, kneeling over the man on the floor.

Roden checked the man's wrist for a pulse, but found none. Hoping, because he'd rather not grasp that this possible kidnapping could now have turned into a murder, he searched for a heartbeat at the man's neck. After a few seconds, he felt a slight thumping rhythm. "Jeez, he's still alive."

"But who is he?" Manda asked, leaning over Martin's shoulder.

"You don't know him?" Martin asked her rather redundantly. He turned to Roden, "Do you?"

"He doesn't look like anyone I know," Roden answered as he searched the young man's clothing for a wallet or identification. He found nothing, so he began probing the body for injury. "Was Esther seeing someone?" He didn't look at her while he explored the man's head, but he directed this question towards Manda.

"Essy?" she replied, "No. She would have told me."

"Are you sure?" Roden seemed doubtful.

Manda didn't like his skeptical inquiry. "Of course I'm sure!" She glowered. "I'm her best friend. Ess would tell me if she actually had a boyfriend." Roden stopped his search long enough to give her an unconvinced glance, to which Manda indignantly continued, "She doesn't date much."

It didn't take Roden long to discover the rather large lump on the back of the man's head. He carefully rolled the body on its side for a better look. "There's blunt force trauma in his occipital region. The skin didn't break, though, so the fluid is collecting."

Roden opened the unconscious man's eyelids, and observed, "His pupils are unequally dilated and not responding to the light in the room. That and the fact that he's unconscious means that there's most likely injury to the brain. He could have an epidural or subdural hematoma, or worse; and we can only hope there's not a depressed fracture in the skull. There's also the possibility of spinal cord injury, so we need to be careful with him."

Manda interjected here. "I thought you were just a psychiatrist."

"I'm a medical doctor, I just specialize in psychiatry." Roden replied, annoyed once again at the condescending tone in her voice.

"If you are a medical doctor, why are you wasting your time in psychiatry? There's more money in – I don't know . . . brain surgery."

"That's not necessarily true - " he began.

"Oh, isn't it?" Her haughty tone grated on his nerves, "Then, explain to me why you drive an old BMW 3 series, when you could be driving a brand new M5 - "

That was it. Roden lost his cool. "My car is a classic. Now, will you back off? We need to take care of this guy. If you're not going to help, then get out of my way!"

His outburst stunned Manda into silence, again. Thank God, Roden thought, I wonder how long it will last this time. He directed his attention back to the comatose man. The only thing he could really do for him here was to bring the swelling down at the point of the injury.

"Okay. Manda, could you get me some ice and a towel?"

She replied, "Excuse me, but do I look like a nurse to you? Some little candy-striper, or something?" Roden rolled his eyes. The moment of silence was so brief and bittersweet.

A little explanation was apparently necessary. "We just need to apply cold to his injury to get the swelling down. We don't know how long he's been here, so the faster we move, the better. You know this place better than Martin or I do, so please just do what I ask." Roden's request sounded more like an order, and Manda felt insulted all the more.

"'Just do what I ask'?" she repeated in resentment, "If you think I just take orders - " but she stopped short at Roden's firm glare. Martin snorted in amusement after Manda turned and stomped towards the kitchen.