Jeffrey slipped his jacket back on. "I don't want to do this outside."

"What are you going to say?" she demanded. "You're going to say he was driving, right? And that he swerved off the road, right?" She ticked off the progression on her fingertips, giving him nearly verbatim the police handbook procedure for informing someone that a family member had died. Build up to it, the manual said. Don't spring it on them suddenly. Let the family member/loved one get used to the idea.

Lena counted it off, her voice getting louder with each sentence. "Was he hit by another car? Huh? And they took him to the hospital? And they tried to save him, but they couldn't. They did everything they could, huh?"

" Lena -"

She walked back toward her car, then turned around. "Where's my sister? Did you already tell her?"

Jeffrey took a breath, releasing it slowly.

"Look at that," Lena hissed, turning toward the station house, waving her hand in the air. Maria Simms was looking out one of the front windows. "Come on out, Maria," Lena yelled.

"Come on," Jeffrey said, trying to stop her.

She stepped away from him. "Where is my sister?"

His mouth did not want to move. Through sheer force of will, he managed, "She was in the diner."

Lena turned, walking down the street toward the diner.

Jeffrey continued, "She went to the bathroom."

Lena stopped in her tracks.

"There was someone in there. He stabbed her in the chest." Jeffrey waited for her to turn around, but she still did not. Lena 's shoulders were straight, her posture a study in stillness. He continued, "Dr. Linton was having lunch with her sister. She went into the bathroom and found her."

Lena turned slowly, her lips slightly parted.

"Sara tried to save her."

Lena looked him straight in the eye. He forced himself not to look away.

"She's dead."

The words hung in the air like moths around a streetlamp.

Lena 's hand went to her mouth. She walked in an almost drunken half circle, then turned back to Jeffrey. Her eyes bored into his, a question there. Was this some kind of joke? Was he capable of being this cruel?

"She's dead," he repeated.

Her breathing came in short staccatos. He could almost see her mind kicking into action as she absorbed the information. Lena walked toward the station house, then stopped. She turned to Jeffrey, mouth open, but said nothing. Without warning, she took off toward the diner.

" Lena!" Jeffrey called, running after her. She was fast for her size, and his dress shoes were no match for her sneakers pounding down the pavement. He tucked his arms in, pumping, pushing himself to catch her before she reached the diner.

He called her name again as she neared the diner, but she blew past it, taking a right turn toward the medical center.

"No," Jeffrey groaned, pushing himself harder. She was going to the morgue. He called her name again, but Lena did not look back as she crossed onto the hospital's drive. She slammed her body into the sliding doors, popping them out of their frames, sounding the emergency alarm.

Jeffrey was seconds behind her. He rounded the corner to the stairs, hearing Lena 's tennis shoes slapping against the rubber treads. A boom echoed up the narrow stairwell as she opened the door to the morgue.

Jeffrey stopped on the fourth step from the bottom. He heard Sara's surprised " Lena " followed by a pained groan.

He forced himself to take the last few steps down, made himself walk into the morgue.

Lena was bent over her sister, holding her hand. Sara had obviously tried to cover the worst of the damage with the sheet, but most of Sibyl's upper torso still showed.

Lena stood beside her sister, her breath coming in short pants, her whole body shaking as if from some bone-chilling cold.

Sara cut Jeffrey in two with a look. All he could do was hold his hands out. He had tried to stop her.

"What time was it?" Lena asked through chattering teeth. "What time did she die?"

"Around two-thirty," Sara answered. Blood was on her gloves, and she tucked them under her arms as if to hide it.

"She feels so warm."

"I know."

Lena lowered her voice. "I was in Macon, Sibby," she told her sister, stroking back her hair. Jeffrey was glad to see Sara had taken the time to comb some of the blood out.

Silence filled the morgue. It was eerie seeing Lena standing beside the dead woman. Sibyl was her identical twin, alike in every way. They were both petite women, about five four and little more than one hundred twenty pounds. Their skin had the same olive tone. Lena 's dark brown hair was longer than her sister's, Sibyl's curlier. The sisters' faces were a study in contrast, one flat and emotionless, the other filled with grief.

Sara turned slightly to the side, removing her gloves. She suggested, "Let's go upstairs, okay?"

"You were there," Lena said, her voice low. "What did you do to help her?"

Sara looked down at her hands. "I did what I could do."

Lena stroked the side of her sisters face, her tone a little sharper when she asked, "What exactly was it that you could do?"

Jeffrey stepped forward, but Sara gave him a sharp look to stop him, as if to say his time to help the situation had come and gone about ten minutes ago.

"It was very fast," Sara told Lena, obviously with some reluctance. "She started to go into convulsions."

Lena laid Sibyl's hand down on the table. She pulled the sheet up, tucking it under her sister's chin as she spoke. "You're a pediatrician, right? What exactly did you do to help my sister?" She locked eyes with Sara. "Why didn't you call a real doctor?"

Sara gave a short incredulous laugh. She inhaled deeply before answering, " Lena, I think you should let Jeffrey take you home now."

"I don't want to go home," Lena answered, her tone calm, almost conversational. "Did you call an ambulance? Did you call your boyfriend?" A tilt of her head indicated Jeffrey.

Sara's hands went behind her back. She seemed to be physically restraining herself. "We're not going to have this conversation now. You're too upset."

"I'm too upset," Lena repeated, clenching her hands. "You think I'm upset?" she said, her voice louder this time. "You think I'm too fucking upset to talk to you about why you fucking couldn't help my sister?"

As quickly as she had taken off in the parking lot, Lena was in Sara's face.

"You're a doctor!" Lena screamed. "How can she die with a fucking doctor in the room?"

Sara did not answer. She looked off to the side.

"You can't even look at me," Lena said. "Can you?"

Sara's focus did not change.

"You let my sister die and you can't even fucking look at toe."

" Lena," Jeffrey said, finally stepping in. He put his hand on her arm, trying to get her to back off.

"Let me go," she screamed, punching him with her fists. She started to pummel his chest, but he grabbed her hands, holding them tight. She still fought him, screaming, spitting, kicking. Holding her hands was like grabbing a live wire. He kept a firm hand, taking the abuse, letting her get it all out until she crumpled into a ball on the floor. Jeffrey sat beside her, holding her while she sobbed. When he thought to look, Sara was nowhere to be found.

Jeffrey pulled a handkerchief out of his desk with one hand, holding the phone to his ear with the other. He put the cloth to his mouth, dabbing at the blood as a metallic version of Sara's voice asked him to wait for the beep.

"Hey," he said, taking away the cloth. "You there?" He waited a few seconds. "I want to make sure you're okay, Sara." More seconds passed. "If you don't pick up, I'm going to come over." He expected to get a response to this, but nothing came. He heard the machine run out and hung up the phone.

Frank knocked on his office door. "The kid's in the bathroom," he said, meaning Lena. Jeffrey knew Lena hated to be called a kid, but this was the only way Frank Wallace could think to show his partner that he cared.