The Face-Changers by Thomas Perry

to see them as he walked to the doorway.
    The younger one in brown stepped into his path. “I’m sorry,” said the man. “This is a crime scene.” He studied Carey’s face, as though trying to verify that Carey had seen his badge.
    Carey turned his head to look in puzzlement at the older man, then back at the one in brown. “I understand. Dr.
    Dahlman is in custody, but I’m his doctor, and I’d like to see him.”
    The older man was holding a little spiral notebook in his hand and he consulted it. “You are Doctor…” He flipped a page. “McKinnon.” It wasn’t a question, but he said, “That right?”
    “Yes,” said Carey. He craned his neck to look in the doorway at the empty room, then looked at the policemen in surprise. “I operated on him earlier this evening, and he’s supposed to be in there. Can you tell me where he’s been moved?”
    “I’m Captain Folger,” said the man. “This is Detective Kohl. I wish I could tell you where he is. He’s missing. If you’ll come with me, you might be able to help us clear this up.” He was reassuring and calm, but not quite friendly.
    Carey knew it was time to start causing trouble. “What do you mean, ‘missing’?” Carey simulated the amazement he might have felt. “That’s crazy! He’s seriously injured and tranquilized. You’re trying to tell me he just got up out of bed?
    He was supposed to be restrained. And where were the policemen who were supposed to be watching him? We should be looking for him.”
    “We’ve already done that,” said the policeman. “But he’s not in the building anymore.” As the policeman stepped off down the hall, Carey almost smiled. Jane was out. She had done it. The policeman said, “I think you understand we’d like to ask you some questions – about his condition and so on.”
    “Of course,” said Carey. He followed the older policeman down the hallway, reminding himself that he couldn’t let himself get lazy now. He had to think. The man had said
    “Captain” Folger – a very high rank, the sort of policeman who was in charge of a station, not the sort who wandered around looking for people.
    Then Carey felt rather than heard something behind him: the younger one, Detective Kohl, was following a few paces behind them. Was he cutting off Carey’s retreat, or was his position simply the result of starting to walk after his boss had? Carey decided that, for the moment, he had better not assume anything was meaningless.
    Captain Folger opened the door to the conference room at the end of the hall, and to Carey’s surprise, he went in and closed it behind him. Detective Kohl stepped to Carey’s side.
    “Have you ever had a patient walk off before?” Carey decided he was trying to distract him.
    “Usually if they chicken out, it’s before I operate.” The detective seemed to think that was a very witty thing to say. He laughed, then said, “I guess he can’t have gone far.” Carey shook his head. “I’m amazed he went anywhere.
    He’s sixty-seven years old, he’s lost blood, he’s been bruised by the impact of the bullet, he’s – ”
    “Oh, yeah,” Detective Kohl interrupted. “I’ve seen it a few times, and I know what you mean. Whatever’s going through his mind, he hurts.” He said it with a satisfaction that reminded Carey that this man was no friend of his.
    The door opened, and Captain Folger beckoned and stepped aside. “Thanks, Doctor.” As Carey went past him into the familiar room, Folger began to recite names. Carey listened, aware that he should hold the names in his memory, but they were just words. “This is Officer Graley, Officer Wilchevsky, Mr. Marshall, and I’m Captain Folger, in case you didn’t catch it before.” Nobody stood to shake hands.
    As Carey had expected, the captain did the talking. “Dr.
    McKinnon, I should say at this juncture that we appreciate any help you can give us. If you would be more comfortable consulting an attorney before you