"Let's do it," David said.

"These drugs are expensive," Dr. Hasselbaum said.

"A man's life hangs in the balance," David said.

An hour and fifteen minutes later, when John's treatment had been instituted and there was nothing else to be done, David hurried to his office. Once again, every seat in the waiting room was occupied. Some patients were standing in the hall. Everyone was upset, even the receptionist.

David took a deep breath and plunged into his appointments. In between patients he called the ICU repeatedly to check on John's status. Each time he was told there had been no change.

In addition to his regularly scheduled patients, a number of semi-emergencies added to the confusion by having to be squeezed in. David would have sent these cases to the emergency room if it hadn't been for Kelley's lecture. Two of these patients seemed like old friends: Mary Ann Schiller and Jonathan Eakins.

Although he was somewhat spooked by the way Marjorie Kleber's and now John Tarlow's cases had progressed, David felt compelled to hospitalize both Mary Ann and Jonathan. David just didn't feel comfortable treating them as outpatients. Mary Ann had an extremely severe case of sinusitis and Jonathan had a disturbing cardiac arrhythmia. Providing them with admitting orders, David sent them both over to the hospital.

Two other semi-emergency patients were night-shift nurses from the second floor. David had met them on several occasions when he'd been called into the hospital for emergencies. Both had the same complaints: flu-like syndromes consisting of general malaise, low-grade fever, and low white counts, as well as GI troubles including crampy pain, nausea, vomiting, and diarrhea. After examining them, David sent them home for bed rest and symptomatic therapy.

When he had a minute he asked his nurse, Susan, if a flu was going around the hospital.

"Not that I've heard," Susan said.

Angela's day was going better than expected. She'd not had any run-ins with Wadley. In fact, she hadn't seen him at all.

Midmorning she phoned the chief medical examiner, Dr. Walter Dunsmore, having gotten his number from the Burlington directory. Angela explained that she was a pathologist at the Bartlet Community Hospital. She went on to explain her interest in the Hodges case. She added that she had once considered a career in forensic pathology.

Dr. Dunsmore promptly invited her to come to Burlington someday to see their facility. "In fact, why don't you come up and assist at Hodges' autopsy?" he said. "I'd love to have you, but I have to warn you, like most forensic pathologists, I'm a frustrated teacher."

"When do you plan to do it?" Angela asked. She thought that if it could be put off until Saturday, she might be able to go.

"It's scheduled for late this morning," Dr. Dunsmore said. "But there's some flexibility. I'd be happy to do it this afternoon."

"That's very generous," Angela said. "Unfortunately, I'm not sure what my chief would say about my taking the time."

"I've known Ben Wadley for years," Dr. Dunsmore said. "I'll give him a call and clear it with him."

"I'm not sure that would be a good idea," Angela said.

"Nonsense!" Dr. Dunsmore said. "Leave it to me. I look forward to meeting you."

Angela was about to protest further when she realized that Dr. Dunsmore had hung up. She replaced the receiver. She had no idea what Wadley's reaction to Dr. Dunsmore's call would be, but she imagined she'd learn soon enough.

Angela heard even sooner than she expected. Hardly had she hung up than it rang again.

"I'm caught up here in the OR," Wadley said agreeably. "I just got a call from the chief medical examiner. He tells me he wants you to come up to assist with an autopsy."

"I just spoke with him. I wasn't sure how you'd feel about it." It was obvious to Angela from Wadley's cheerfulness that Cantor had not yet spoken with Wadley.

"I think it's a great idea," Wadley said. "My feeling is that whenever the medical examiner asks for a favor, we do it. It never hurts to stay on his good side. You never know when we'll need a favor in return. I encourage you to go."

"Thank you," Angela said. "I will." Hanging up she called David to let him know her plans. When he came on the line, David's voice sounded tense and weary.

"You sound terrible," Angela said. "What's wrong?"

"Don't ask," David said. "I'll have to tell you later. Right now I'm behind again and the natives are restless."

Angela quickly told him about the medical examiner's invitation and that she'd been cleared to go. David told her to enjoy herself and rang off.

Grabbing her coat, Angela left the hospital. Before setting out for Burlington, she headed home to change clothes. As she approached the house she was surprised to see a state police van parked in front of her house. Evidently the crime scene investigators were still there.

Alice Doherty met her at the door, concerned that something was wrong. Angela immediately put her at ease. She then asked about the state police people.

"They are still downstairs," Alice said. "They've been there for hours."

Angela went down to the basement to meet the technicians. There were three. They had the entire area around the back of the stairs blocked off with crime scene tape and brightly illuminated with floodlights. One man was using advanced techniques in an attempt to lift fingerprints from the stone. Another man was carefully sifting through the dirt that formed the floor of the tomb. The third was using a hand-held instrument called a luma-light, looking for fibers and latent prints.

The only man who introduced himself was the gentleman working on the fingerprints. His name was Quillan Reilly.

"Sorry we're taking so much time," Quillan said.

"It doesn't matter," Angela assured him.

Angela watched them work. They didn't talk much, each absorbed by his task. She was about to leave when Quillan asked her if the interior of the house had been repainted in the last eight months.

"I don't think so," Angela said. "We certainly haven't."

"Good," said Quillan. "Would you mind if we came back this evening to use some luminol on the walls upstairs?"

"What's luminol?" Angela asked.

"It's a chemical used to search for bloodstains," Quillan explained.

"The house has been cleaned," Angela said, taking mild offense that they thought any blood would still be detectable.

"It's still worth a shot," Quillan said.

"Well, if you think it might be helpful," Angela said. "We want to be cooperative."

"Thank you, ma'am," Quillan said.

"What happened to the evidence taken by the medical examiner?" Angela asked. "Do the local police have it?"

"No, ma'am," Quillan said. "We have it."

"Good," Angela said.

Ten minutes later, Angela was on her way. In Burlington, she found the medical examiner's office with ease.

"We're waiting for you," Dr. Dunsmore said as Angela was ushered into his modern and sparsely furnished office. He made her feel instantly at ease. He even asked her to call him Walt.

In minutes, Angela was dressed in a surgical scrub suit. As she donned a mask, a hood, and goggles, she felt a rush of excitement. The autopsy room had always been an arena of discovery for her.

"I think you'll find we are quite professional here," Walt said as they met outside the autopsy room. "It used to be that forensic pathology was somewhat of a joke outside of the major cities. That's not the case any longer."

Dennis Hodges was laid out on the autopsy table. X rays had been taken and were already on the X-ray view box. Walt introduced the diener to Angela, explaining that Peter would assist them in the procedure.

First they looked at the X rays. The penetrating fracture at the top of the forehead was certainly a mortal wound. There was also a linear fracture in the back of the head. In addition, there was a fracture of the left clavicle, the left ulna, and the left radius.