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“Can you grab the vodka from the bar?” I say. “And can we get a name from you?”

The man hesitates.

“Any name,” I snap. “I don’t care if it’s yours.”

“Raymond,” he says slowly. “It’s Raymond.”

“Ellie,” I say. I nod at Henry. “He’s Henry, Noemi and Caleb out there.”

“And the chick at the bar?”

“No goddamn idea.”

He snorts and offers me an eye roll, as if we’re sharing a joke. Then he limps out to get the vodka.

I turn to Henry. He’s frowning down at the newcomer, who sits dazed on the stool, staring straight ahead, his dark eyes vacant.

I follow Henry’s gaze. He’s started by cleaning away the blood at the man’s temple. Underneath, the skin is clear and unbroken. Henry notices I’m watching, and he gives a quick shake, as if throwing off his confusion.

“Can you show me where you hit your head?” Henry asks as he shines the light into the man’s curling dark hair.

“Right there.” He touches his temple. Where there’s no mark.

Henry only nods. “The blood must be coming from somewhere else.” He steps back, the flashlight beam moving down the man’s torso. He’s wearing a white dress shirt slick with fresh blood. “I’m going to remove this, okay?”

“Sure. It hurts to breathe. Really hurts.”

“Inhale for me.”

The man takes a deep breath and winces, but his breath comes clear and easy, even to my ears. Henry’s already taking off the man’s shirt. I help, and I walk to hang it on a hook. When I turn back, Henry’s gingerly wiping caked blood from the man’s chest. I’m braced to see what is obviously a serious injury, given the amount of blood.

But there’s nothing.

Henry looks at the man’s equally unblemished back. Then he goes very still.

“Were you alone in the car?” he asks, and my heart leaps into my throat.

Shit. The blood isn’t from this man. There’s someone else, out there, trapped in the car, bleeding profusely.

“It was just me,” the man says.

Henry hunkers down to meet the guy’s eyes. “Are you sure?”

The man frowns. “Uh, yes? I think I’d remember that.”

“You hit your head. What do you remember?”

“That I was alone in the car. I went out for drinks with my colleagues. I’d just gotten grant money to study—” He waves it off. “Boring economics stuff. I only meant to have two drinks but then the department head came in and bought another round. Maybe two rounds? My wife texted because I was late for dinner, and I took off like a flash.” He looks at Henry. “I was alone.”

“Then where did all this blood come from?”

“The accident?”

“I mean, where are you injured? Where is it bleeding?”

The man stares at him. Then he shrinks back, gaze going from me to Henry. “What’s going on here?”

“We’re trying to figure out where you’re injured,” I say. “You’re covered in blood, but there’s nothing wrong with you.”