"I appreciate it," Laurie said. "I did want it. And you were right. It was exactly like McGillan to an uncomfortable degree."

"What do you mean 'uncomfortable'?" Jack asked.

"I'm beginning to think that your suggestion yesterday about forensics establishing a manner of death opposite to what was expected could be applicable. I'm thinking I might be dealing with homicide, sort of the Cromwell case in reverse. In other words, I might have stumbled onto the work of a serial killer. I can't help but think about some of those infamous health-institution serial murders, particularly the recent one over in New Jersey and Pennsylvania." Laurie did not have the same reservations about mentioning her suspicions to Jack as she had had with Fontworth.

"Whoa!" Jack said. "When I was talking about forensics providing some surprises, I was talking in general. I wasn't suggesting anything about your case."

"I thought you were," Laurie said.

Jack shook his head as the elevator door opened on the first floor. "Not at all. And I have to say that I think you're taking a quantum leap going from natural to homicide with the case you described to me. Why on Earth did it even occur to you?" He gestured for Laurie to exit ahead of him.

"Because I've now autopsied in successive days two relatively young, healthy people who have died suddenly, yet have no associated pathology. None!"

"Your case today didn't have any emboli or obvious cardiac abnormalities?"

"Absolutely none. It was clean! Well, there were a few uterine fibroids, but that was it. Like McGillan, she was within twenty-four hours postsurgery with general anesthesia. Like McGillan, she had been completely stable without complications, and then… bingo! She arrests and is totally unable to be resuscitated!" Laurie snapped her fingers for emphasis.

They passed through the communications room. The secretaries were bunched together and chatting. For the moment, the phone lines were quiet. After the mayhem of the morning commute, death generally took a breather in the city.

"Two cases don't make a series!" Jack asserted. He was dumbfounded by Laurie's suggestion of a serial killer.

"I think it is four cases, not two," Laurie said. "That's too many to be a coincidence." While they helped themselves to the communal coffee, Laurie described her conversations with Kevin and George. As she spoke, she and Jack sat down in the two brown vinyl club chairs that Kevin and Arnold had been in earlier.

"What about toxicology?" Jack questioned. "If there turns out to be no pathology on gross or histologically, then the answer is going to come from toxicology, whether there was hanky-panky going on or even if there wasn't."

"George said he's still waiting on toxicology for his case. Obviously, for mine I've got a wait. Be that as it may, we're dealing with a curious set of circumstances here."

Jack and Laurie sipped from their respective cups, eyeing each other over the brims. Both were aware of the other's current mindset in regard to Laurie's serial-killer theory. Laurie's expression was challenging, while Jack's reflected his feeling that she was out in left field.

"If you want my opinion," Jack said finally, "I think you're letting your imagination run wild. Maybe you're upset because of our problems, and you're looking for a diversion."

Laurie felt a wave of irritation spread through her. It came from a combination of Jack's being patronizing on the one hand and his being correct on the other. She averted her gaze and took a breath. "What is it you wanted to talk about? I'm sure it wasn't our respective cases."

"Riva told me about your mother yesterday," Jack said. "I was tempted to call last night to ask you about her and extend my sympathies, but under the circumstances, I thought it better to talk in person."

"Thank you for your concern. She's doing fine."

"I'm glad," Jack said. "Is it appropriate if I send some flowers?"

"That's completely up to you."

"Then I will." Jack said. He paused, fidgeted, and then said hesitantly, "I don't know if I should bring this up about your mother…"

Then don't, Laurie said to herself. She was disappointed. She had allowed herself to be set up after all. She didn't want to talk about her mother.

"… but I'm sure you are aware there is a hereditary aspect to breast cancer."

"I am," Laurie said. She looked at Jack with exasperation, wondering where he was going with this conversation.

"I don't know if your mother has been tested for the markers indicating BRCA gene mutations, but the results would have significance concerning treatment. More important for you, it would have significance concerning prevention. One way or the other, I think you should definitely be tested. I mean, I don't want to alarm you, but it would be prudent."

"My mother is positive for a BRCA mutation," Laurie admitted.

Some of her anger, although not her disappointment, abated when she realized that Jack was being solicitous about her health and not just her mother's.

"That's an even greater reason for you to be tested," Jack said. "Have you thought about it?"

"I've thought about it," Laurie admitted. "But I'm not convinced it would have much significance and may just add to my anxiety. I'm not about to have my breasts and ovaries removed."

"Mastectomy and oophorectomy are not the only preventive measures available," Jack said. "Last night, I went on the Internet and read up on all this."

Laurie found herself almost smiling. She wondered if she and Jack had visited the same websites.

"More frequent mammograms is another option," Jack added. "Eventually, you might even consider tamoxifen treatment. But that's down the road. Anyway, the bottom line is that it just makes sense. I mean, if this predictive information is available, you should do it. In fact, I would like to ask you to do it. No, I take that back. I would like to plead with you to do it… for me."

To Laurie's surprise, Jack leaned forward and gripped her forearm with unexpected strength to emphasize his commitment to the cause.

"You're really convinced?" Laurie questioned, marveling at the "for me" part.

"Absolutely! No question!" Jack responded. "Even if the only effect is to make you more prone to have regular checkups. That would be an enormously positive effect. Laurie, please!"

"Is it a blood test? I don't even know."

"Yes, it's a simple blood test. Do you have a primary-care physician over at the Manhattan General, where we are now obligated to go?"

"Not yet," Laurie admitted. "But I can call my old college chum, Sue Passero. She's on staff in internal medicine. I'm sure she could set me up."

"Perfect," Jack said. He rubbed his hands together. "Should I call to make sure you do it?"

Laurie laughed. "I'll do it."

"Today."

"All right, for goodness' sakes. I'll do it today."

"Thank you," Jack said. He released Laurie's arm that he'd been firmly clutching. "Now that we've got that settled, I want to ask about whether we can compromise about your moving out of my apartment."

For a moment, Laurie was nonplussed. Just when she thought Jack wasn't going to bring up their relationship, he did.

"As I said," he continued, "I missed you last night. Worst of all, my basketball game was a disaster. The defenses I had carefully erected against your absence had been undermined by a pregame run-in with a pair of your pantyhose."

"What pantyhose?" Laurie asked, raising her guard again. She purposefully didn't laugh at Jack's reversion to witty sarcasm. For her, there was nothing funny about suggesting that Jack's prowess on the basketball court was a determining factor in her moving back to his apartment.

"A pair you left in the bathroom. But don't worry, they're safely ensconced in the bureau."