He met up with Dr. Edna Skylar in the corridor outside the cancer ward. He had hoped to see her in her office, but this would be okay.

Edna Skylar smiled when she saw him. She wore very little makeup. The white coat was wrinkled. No stethoscope hung around her neck this time.

“Hello, Myron,” she said.

“Hi, Dr. Skylar.”

“Call me Edna.”

“Okay.”

“I was just on my way out.” She pointed with her thumb toward the elevator. “What brings you here?”

“You, actually.”

Edna Skylar had a pen tucked behind her ear. She took it out, made a note on a chart, put it back. “Really?”

“You taught me something when I was here last time,” Myron said.

“What’s that?”

“We talked about the virtuous patient, remember? We talked about the pure versus the sullied. You were so honest with me—about how you’d rather work with people who seemed more deserving.”

“A lot of talk, yes,” she said. “But at the end of the day, I took an oath. I treat those I don’t like too.”

“Oh I know. But you see, you got me thinking. Because I agreed with you. I wanted to help Aimee Biel because I thought she was . . . I don’t know.”

“Innocent?” Skylar said.

“I guess.”

“But you learned that she’s not.”

“More than that,” Myron said. “What I learned was, you were wrong.”

“About?”

“We can’t prejudge people like that. We become cynical. We assume the worst. And when we do that, we start to see only the shadows. You know that Aimee Biel is back home?”

“I heard that, yes.”

“Everyone thinks she ran away.”

“I heard that too.”

“So nobody listened to her story. I mean, really listened. Once that assumption came about, Aimee Biel was no longer an innocent. You see? Even her parents. They had her best interests at heart. They wanted so much to protect her that even they couldn’t see the truth.”

“Which is?”

“Innocent until proven guilty. It’s not just for the courtroom.”

Edna Skylar made a production of checking her watch. “I’m not sure I see what you’re getting at.”

“I believed in that girl her whole life. Was I wrong? Was it a lie? But at the end of the day, it’s like her parents said—it’s their job to protect her, not mine. So I was able to be more dispassionate. I was willing to risk learning the truth. So I waited. When I finally got Aimee alone, I asked her to tell me the whole story. Because there were too many holes in the other one—the one where she ran away and maybe killed her lover. That ATM machine, for one. That call from the pay phone, for another. Stuff like that. I didn’t want to just shove it all aside and help her get on with her life. So I talked to her. I remembered how much I loved and cared for her. And I did something truly strange.”

“What?”

“I assumed that Aimee was telling the truth. If she was, then I knew two things. The kidnapper was a woman. And the kidnapper knew that Katie Rochester used the ATM machine on Fifty-second Street. The only people who fit that bill? Katie Rochester. Well, she didn’t do it. Loren Muse. No way. And you.”

“Me?” Edna Skylar began to blink. “Are you serious?”

“Do you remember when I called and asked you to look up Aimee’s medical file?” Myron asked. “To see if she was pregnant?”

Again Edna Skylar checked her watch. “I really don’t have time for this.”

“I said it wasn’t just about one innocent, it was about two.”

“So?”

“Before I called you, I asked your husband to do the same thing. He worked in that department. I thought he’d have an easier time. But he refused.”

“Stanley is a stickler for the rules,” Edna Skylar said.

“I know. But you see, he told me something interesting. He told me that with all the new HIP laws nowadays, the computer date-stamps a patient’s file every time you look into it. You can see the name of the doctor who viewed the file. And you get the time he or she viewed it.”

“Right.”

“So I checked Aimee’s file. Guess what it shows?”

Her smile began to falter.

“You, Dr. Skylar, looked at that file two weeks before I asked you to. Why would you do that?”

She folded her arms across her chest. “I didn’t.”

“The computer is wrong?”

“Sometimes Stanley forgets his code. He probably used mine.”

“I see. He forgets his own code but remembers yours.” Myron tilted his head and edged closer. “You think he’ll say that under oath?”

Edna Skylar did not reply.

“Do you know where you were really clever?” he went on. “Telling me about your son. The one who was trouble from day one and ran away to make it big. You said that he was still a mess, do you remember?”

A small, pain-filled sound escaped her lips. Her eyes filled with tears.

“But you never mentioned your son’s name. No reason you should, of course. And there’s no reason why anybody would know. Even now. It wasn’t part of the investigation. I don’t know the name of Jake Wolf’s mother. Or Harry Davis’s. But once I saw that you’d been in Aimee’s medical file, I did a little checking. Your first husband, Dr. Skylar, was named Andrew Van Dyne, am I right? Your son’s name was Drew Van Dyne.”

She closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. When she opened them again, she shrugged, aiming for nonchalance but not even coming close. “So?”

“Odd, don’t you think? When I asked you about Aimee Biel, you never mentioned that your son knew her.”

“I told you that I was estranged from my son. I didn’t know anything about him and Aimee Biel.”

Myron grinned. “You have all the answers, don’t you, Edna?”

“I’m just telling the truth.”

“No, you’re not. It was yet another coincidence. So many damn coincidences, don’t you think? That’s what I couldn’t shake from the beginning. Two pregnant girls at the same high school? Okay, that one was no big deal. But all the rest—both girls running away, both using the same ATM, all that. Again, let’s assume Aimee was telling the truth. Let’s assume that someone—a woman—did indeed tell Aimee to wait on that corner. Let’s say that this mystery woman did tell Aimee to take money out of that ATM. Why? Why would someone do that?”