ABE MARION'S BRAIN WAS A LOT LIKE HIS EX-WIFE: IT was relentless and annoying, it talked all the time, and it never let go of anything, ever.

Like right now, for instance, Marion was halfway through a case report, and his brain wouldn't stop bothering him about Kevin Loomis. He told it he'd put enough time into that mess already today. In fact, he was behind on everything else, which was probably why Creighton had assigned it to him in the first place. But, like usual, his brain wouldn't let up. It kept telling him he was missing something. Something obvious. Something important.

And here is where Marion's brain was different from his ex-wife: Most of the time, the goddamned thing was right.

So, Marion went over the case again in his head. A guy with limited income lives in a decent building in a nice part of town. That meant he probably had rent stabilization or some other sweet arrangement. Big surprise, the landlord wants him out. Manhattan apartments are like little piles of cash and sometimes not so little—think seven figures—and so renters with low fixed rates were always getting pressured to hit the road.

But chucking a guy out of a car was batshit crazy. If you're some big evil landlord, you don't want to attract attention, and you do not want lawsuits. Could the building's owner really be that brazen? Or that stupid? Marion doubted it.

But that's not what his brain was bugging him about. There was something else. Something obvious he was overlooking.

Marion leaned back and did a quick review of the morning.

He had walked out and taken the subway over to the hospital. Nobody watching him, nothing unusual.

He gives the security guy a Hihowyadoin.

He walks into the ER waiting room. Old guy speaking Spanish, TV showing CNN, heavyset woman with two kids.

He says hello to Betty. She's calm, busy, focused. Again, nothing unusual.

He goes back into the ER. Insane guy on a stretcher, holding his crotch and screaming bloody murder.

ER doc stops him in his tracks. Female, Asian, compulsive, sharp as a tack.

And then there was Loomis. No surprises there. At least, none he could think of.

So, what was he missing?

He went over it again. Faces, places, details. Something he was overlooking.

Subway, security guard, waiting room, Betty, guy on the stretcher, doctor, Loomis.

What was it?

Subway, guard, Betty, guy on the...

Wait.

There was somebody in the hallway when he first walked into the ER. A guy with a mop. An orderly. An orderly who wouldn't look at him. An orderly whose clothes didn't fit. An orderly who was a bit too tall, with long dreadlocks. An orderly who couldn't tell him where bed sixteen was.

Maybe the guy didn't speak English, Marion thought. Maybe it was his first day on the job. Or maybe it was something else. Maybe he didn't want to look at Marion because he knew he was a cop. Maybe Marion was a cop the guy had seen before. A cop he recognized.

Marion's brain, pleased with itself now, said: ding.