“They know that,” Harris said, rising from the table and picking up his coat.

“That is exactly what worries me.”

At three, I stood in the dim security office on the basement level of the hospital.

Tom, the chief guard, leaned forward in his swivel chair, his fingers hovering over the keyboard of the video monitor.

“The camera above the main desk runs twenty-four hours,” Tom said, clicking through the digital time stamps.

“We only keep the files for thirty days.”

“Start at seven this morning,” I said, leaning closer to the screen.