Back at the law school, one of his fellow students at last told
them where he was: in a private hospital. He was well on the way
to becoming an alcoholic, and his parents had ordered him to
spend some time there. The nurse at the front desk of the hospital
told Gray that Mr Linney was in Room 22, but refused to let him
see him. Gray asked to see the manager, and while the nurse was
fetching him Gray whispered to Darby, 'Room 22.'
She left the waiting-room and boldly walked to his room. She
knocked and went in. The young man looked surprised to see her.
'I'm Sara Jacobs,' she said. 'I work for the Washington Post.
May I ask you a question?'
'Yes, but how did you get in?'
'I just walked in. You worked at White and Blazevich last
summer, didn't you? Do you recognize this man?' She showed
him the photograph.
'Yes, he's . . . what's his name? I can't remember. He works in
the oil and gas department.'
Darby held her breath.
Linney closed his eyes and thought. 'Morgan. Yes, that's it. His
surname is Morgan, but I can't remember his first name. What's
this all about?'
'I'll tell you later,' Darby said, and left.
Gray was waiting for her back in the car. She didn't say anything
but immediately looked at the notes she had taken in the law
library. There he was. 'Garcia is Curtis D. Morgan,' she said. 'Let's
go.'