The clock had just passed midnight, and Saturday had arrived. Normally a man who loved every minute of the weekend, Robert had a pang of conscience as the accident victim was wheeled down to the theatre. Signing her consent form made him realise the gravity of his lie. No longer was it something he could lie his way out of without repercussions. If he was busted now, he was looking at a court case, sentencing, time in jail. Time without his wife, setting a bad example to his precariously balanced son, and a criminal conviction which would stay with him for life. The more he thought about it, the more it got to him. He sat alone outside the woman's hospital room, with his mind buzzing, trying to think of a way out of the whole situation. Eventually, after trying out several different stories he could try on the police, he realised that there was no easy way out. Whatever story he came up with, even he could pick holes in it. There was only one thing to do. He walked to the payphone at the front desk of the hospital, and called the police to confess that it was him who had caused the accident which had hurt the young woman so badly. "I just wanted to be honest, I'm not trying to hide from the law", he admitted. "I'm at the hospital now. The poor woman was all alone, no friends or relatives. It's like nobody cares for her". Little did he know that quite the opposite was true. New York's finest and most devoted were out looking for her, one of them more devoted than any other.
At about the same time that Robert picked up the phone, Grace found herself confronted by an anxious looking man in a suit and polo shirt who'd run in from the street. "Have you had a young woman brought in this evening?", he asked. "Involved in a traffic accident or something like that?". Grace flipped through her admittance charts. "Do you have the young woman's name?" she asked. "Lindsay, Lindsay Monroe", Danny answered, wondering why he'd not had the sense to pick up a copy of her ID before he left. Grace shook her head. "According to my admitting records, there's nobody by that name here.
"Okay, how about the Jane Does you've had tonight? She might be one of those. She's about five foot six, late twenties, she's got brown wavy hair, and she had a black Burberry jacket". He looked imploringly at Grace, who just shook her head at him. "The only young woman we've had admitted tonight is a Mrs Caitlin Morris. That's her husband over there, on the phone. His wife is in surgery, she had a small blood clot". Grace pointed in Robert's direction. "No others at all?" Danny pleaded. "Can't you check those charts again? Even someone who may not quite fit her description?". Grace shook her head. "It's been a quiet night, sir. Unless Lindsay Monroe is a three year old boy with febrile convulsions or an eighty six year old woman with a broken hip, she's not been admitted here. We've only had those three admissions tonight. I'm sorry, I really can't help you any further". She snapped her file shut with an official sounding click and put her pen down to indicate that the discussion was over. Danny sighed and stepped away from the desk.
At 3am, Don Flack was about to fax Lindsay's photo to Jersey's Police department, when his phone rang. "It's Danny. Any updates?" Flack switched the phone to his other ear and cursed as the fax machine shredded the photo he'd just fed in. The top half of the "Missing" poster emerged, neatly concertinaed like an ornamental fan. He wedged the phone against his ear with his shoulder and desperately tried to retrieve the paper from the hungry mechanism with both hands. "I know it seems like a long time, Danny, but we're doing all we can. We're making enquiries all over the state". He put the phone down, put his foot against the fax and pulled desperately on the paper. Almost instantly, the phone rang again and he grabbed angrily for it, ready to yell at the caller who was interrupting his fight with modern technology. "Flack", he snarled furiously, trying once more to retrieve the piece of paper. Then he paused. "The caller said what? Say that again".