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Coffee said, “If you want to add a complaint to my own petition, I can include your name when I reach”—Coffee cleared his throat—“when I reach someone.”

“Sammy’s gone,” Sam said.

Coffee looked down at a page and made a note.

“Dead?” Dorry asked.

Dr. Barger barked, “Dorry!”

Sam pointed at Dr. Barger and Josephine.

They say they discharged her. But she didn’t even say good-bye? To me? They said I slept through her release, but she didn’t even leave me a note? She just disappears?”

Pepper surprised himself when he spoke. As he’d been listening to Sam, he’d been clenching his teeth. Not consciously, just a tightening in his chest, his neck, his jawline. And the two words found their way out.

“The Devil,” Pepper said.

Sam narrowed her eyes at Pepper. “Maybe it didn’t get who it wanted. So it came after her instead.”

Pepper leaned so far back in his chair, it tilted.

Loochie raised her arm, making a fist. Was she about to hit Sam? Or fly across the table and throttle Pepper? Unclear, but Dr. Barger could see she was about to do something aggressive. Sam’s sadness, her suspicion, her accusation ran through the room like a current. The newest admit had to use those words. The Devil. Dr. Barger thought, Not this again.

Dr. Barger said, “I’m sure Samantha will call you as soon as she’s back home and settled in. You all know it can take a few days to readjust.”

Every patient in here (except Pepper) knew this was true. Coming out of the hospital could feel like emerging from the amniotic sac, or from a tomb.

Dr. Barger added, “So why don’t we give Samantha a few days before we decide that she’s been sacrificed to Beelzebub.”

A bit gruesome, that, but it did work. So much of the job in Northwest was simply about management. The ugly truth was that these patients weren’t here to be cured. There were no cures for them. They had illnesses that had to be managed, by them and by those who treated them. They were like ships that would never find a shore. The most you could do was bring them supplies; the most they could do was get used to the rocking, the unpredictability, of the vast, impenetrable ocean below them.

“Now,” Dr. Barger said, smiling, seemingly relieved to have staved off a storm. He knocked on the front cover of the book. “Let’s get back to this shark.”

Book Group ended and they all fled. They were running from Sam, even if they wouldn’t put it that way. She stank of desperation and loss. Dr. Barger couldn’t stay because he had another job, late-afternoon patients at his private practice, a half hour drive from New Hyde Hospital. (You didn’t think Dr. Barger was living solely on the salary he earned serving the practically destitute population of Northwest, did you?)

Last out of the room was Josephine, whose heart felt sore as she wheeled the book cart. She’d had to evict Sam before locking up. Sam didn’t even argue as she walked out, head down again. Josephine watched her leave and wanted to grab Sam’s hand. Just hold it. But she wanted to be a professional. Best to get back to work or Josephine would soon feel overwhelmed. The cart had to be returned to the supply closet in Northwest 1. Then back to the nurses’ station to log on to the computer, continue transferring information from the charts. Who else would do it? Most of the staff couldn’t handle an automatic transmission.

Pepper and Coffee walked together. Coffee had his binder and his copy of Jaws tucked under one arm. Pepper held his copy of the novel in one hand. They looked like schoolboys just then, walking home from class.

“You think she’s right?” Pepper asked. And he had to repeat himself because Coffee didn’t answer him. He realized he must’ve whispered.

“You think she’s right? It took Sammy when it couldn’t get me?”

They reached the nurses’ station and Coffee said, “I wish I could tell you yes or no. But I can only say I’m happy you’re all right.”

Pepper touched his own chest lightly. “Not that good.”

Coffee waved away any self-pity. “Better than Sammy, I bet.”

It was almost dinnertime and all the staff, besides Josephine, were busy dropping pills into little white plastic cups. Preparing for the dinner rush. Coffee eyed the phone alcove.

Then Pepper reached over and slipped the blue three-ring binder from under Coffee’s arm. The copy of Jaws fell to the floor with a smack, but Coffee didn’t pay it any attention.

“What’s in here?” Pepper asked.

But he didn’t even have time to playfully flip through the pages. Coffee reached up and thumped Pepper directly against his wounded sternum, and Pepper hopped on one foot and his hands flew out and he huffed out one big breath. And Coffee’s binder fell from Pepper’s hands and Coffee caught it. Then he stooped and picked up his copy of Jaws. By the time one of the orderlies looked up from the tray of pills, Coffee was walking toward Northwest 2 and Pepper seemed to be doing some kind of interpretative dance.

The orderly said, “Go get ready for dinner.”

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