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opened it. He studied the contents for several seconds, then closed the door without taking out anything.
    â€œMilk and sugar,” she said, giving him instructions on how she drank her coffee. He pulled the door open again and took out a carton of milk. Then, as if he remembered something, he put it back and took out an unopened carton.
    He drinks from the carton, Mallory thought. She smiled to herself, deciding it made him seem a little more human. She watched him as he moved about the small, high-ceilinged room. He was obviously upset about the evening. Mallory stood off to the side, allowing him a measure of privacy even though she was witness to his actions. He opened cabinets anddoors, but took nothing from them. She recognized leashed anger. He probably wanted to hit something or hold someone. She couldn’t supply him with either outlet.
    Going to him, she took his arm. “Sit down,” she told him, leading him to a chair. “I’ll get the cups.”
    He didn’t argue. He allowed her to take over while he sat in one of the four high-back chairs surrounding the circular table. Mallory found mugs in a cabinet.
    â€œWhile you’re sitting there, why don’t you start? What did they pick you up for?”
    â€œKidnapping.”
    Mallory whipped around, gripping the cups she had in her hands.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œIt was a mistake. I was just trying to take a girl to a shelter.”
    â€œBack up,” Mallory said. She put down the cups and sat across from him. “Start at the beginning.”
    He told her about his night, about leaving the hospital, feeling restless and finding himself in a run-down district of the city.
    â€œIt was late.” He relaxed. “I saw the girl and knew she shouldn’t be on the street, especially there. I was going to take her to the shelter I help out in. But she screamed and ran away just as the police arrived.”
    Mallory knew how that could look. Night. A child on the street. A man in a car. The police had all the cause they needed.
    â€œWere you charged?”
    He shook his head. “I explained who I was and eventually they reached Detective Ryan.”
    â€œWho’s Detective Ryan?”
    â€œHe’s a friend of mine and he knows about me and the shelter. Once they finished talking to him, I was released. But my car had already been impounded, and I can’t get it out until morning.”
    Mallory heard the gurgling of the coffeepot behind her. She ignored it. She wanted Brad to keep talking.
    â€œWhat about you and the shelter?”
    He got up and removed the pot from the stove, bringing it to the table and filling the mugs. He set the pot between them on a metal plate and added both milk and sugar to his cup. When he’d taken a sip he leaned back and looked at her.
    â€œThe hospital is associated with the Home Society Shelter. It’s a place for homeless children.”
    Mallory knew of it. She’d also known that the hospital had some association with it, but residents weren’t part of the medical team that went there. Her concentration was on her career and the coma patients. She’d forgotten about the shelter.
    â€œI’m one of the primary doctors involved, and I often bring kids there who have no place else to go.”
    â€œDetective Ryan knows this?” It was a question, but she already knew the answer.
    Brad nodded. “We’ve both taken kids there for shelter and food.” He took a sip of his coffee, but his eyes didn’t leave Mallory. She suddenly felt heat rush through her. The sun was beginning to rise, and through the window next to Brad she could see itpainting the sky above the rooftops. She looked out, to avoid his gaze and the effect it suddenly had on her.
    â€œTell me more about the shelter,” she said. She really just wanted him to talk. It would get his mind off what had happened earlier and she would learn more about him.
    â€œIt’s