“Isn’t Dr. Spitz a country doctor, a general practitioner?” Ethan heard the smooth touch of condescension in Dr. Truitt’s voice.

“And you think he’s been duped, right?”

“No, no, surely not, but all this nonsense about instant hypnosis, people killing themselves through suggestion—”

Ethan could see the future stretching out in front of him, constantly explaining and justifying himself, trying to make people believe what Blessed Backman was fully capable of and fully prepared to do to anyone who got in his way or could be of use to him. He said, “I’m going to keep him blindfolded, because the minute the pain meds kick in, the minute he’s able to concentrate and focus, he’ll be at it again, and trust me, you don’t want to be on the receiving end. So you fully understand, he brutally murdered a hiker yesterday in Titus Hitch, left him for animals to savage.”

Dr. Truitt looked shocked. Ethan watched his tongue whip over his bottom lip. “Do you have proof this man was responsible?”

“Yes,” Ethan said, lying cleanly.

Dr. Truitt looked at him for a long moment, then simply shook his head and looked away.

Ethan hardened his voice. “He does look helpless, doesn’t he? No threat at all. All right, Doctor, consider this an order—keep this man blindfolded at all times; keep his hands tied down at all times. I’ll have deputies here around the clock to make sure that happens. All he needs is a single second to pull off the blindfold, and it’ll be over.” Ethan raised his finger, cocked it like a gun, pointed it at the doctor, and pulled the trigger. “He might kill you if he’s able, or make you murder someone else, a colleague or a nurse.”

Blessed moaned.

Dr. Truitt jumped, cursed himself for being so suggestible. Since he knew Ethan was watching him, he calmly took his patient’s pulse, raised the blindfold even though Ethan was standing right beside him, and checked his pupils. “He’s still out of it. If there is anything to this hypnosis business, he can’t do much if he’s still unconscious. The surgery went well, and his wounds, both of them, should heal. With rest, he should be okay.”

“There’ll be a team of FBI physicians coming tomorrow, medical and psychiatric,” Ethan said. “If he’s well enough, they’ll begin testing him.”

“What sorts of tests?”

“I assume they’ll evaluate him, physically and mentally, to see if there’s a consensus on when he’s ready for transfer. I expect you and all hospital staff to cooperate fully with them.” He took Dr. Truitt’s arm, shook it lightly. “Listen to me, this man is more dangerous than you can imagine. I know now he looks about as dangerous as a toothless old dog, but he’s not, Doctor, he’s the most dangerous human being I’ve ever met in my life.”

Ethan could see Dr. Truitt still wavered. He knew if Joanna were here, she’d bitch-slap him. It made him smile. Dr. Truitt said, “As long as your FBI personnel are cleared by the chief of staff, I’ll cooperate with anything I think ethical. As long as this man is my patient, his welfare is my primary concern.”

Even though Ethan wanted to punch him out, this little speech was a start. He nodded. “Give me a call if there’s any change at all in his condition. My deputy Ox Cobin is going to stay in this room with him. And by the way, Ox is one of his victims. You want firsthand information, you ask Ox.

“Ah, good timing, Ox. Come on in. Blessed is still out of it, but he moaned a couple minutes ago. You know what to do.”

Ox nodded as he brought in a huge easy chair with an adjustable footrest. “Nurse Lowery loaned me the big man’s chair. He’s on vacation in Croatia.”

Ethan smiled. “You’re feeling fine, right?”

“Yep, but I’ll tell you, Ethan, I’m hardly even going to look at that little man, even all tied down, even with a blindfold over those mad eyes of his.”

Dr. Truitt harrumphed, turned on his heel, and left the hospital room.

Ox watched his progress out of the room. He said thoughtfully, “That’s going to be everyone’s reaction—doctors, lawyers, judges, laypeople—you know that, Ethan.”

“Yeah, I know, even though I told him about Blessed murdering our visitor from Alaska. And no, I didn’t try to tell him Blessed somehow whipped up a bear to savage his corpse. We’ve got Blessed on a dozen felony charges, even if the FBI forensic team doesn’t find anything definitive to tie Blessed to Mr. Spalding’s murder.

“You know, Ox, I hate to say this, but truthfully, I don’t think we even have a chance to get Blessed to the lawyer stage. I have this gut feeling it’s not going to be long before he walks out of this fine hospital, a load of stymied folk in his wake.”