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"Roger, with everything that has happened to me recently, I need some space, at least for a few days. That's the kind of support I need. Can you try to live with that?"

"Yes, but I don't like it."

"I appreciate your understanding. Thank you." Laurie stood up again, and Roger did the same.

"Can I at least call you?"

"I suppose, but I don't know how much I'll want to talk. Maybe it would be better for me to call you. I'm taking it a day at a time."

Roger nodded and Laurie did the same. There was a brief, awkward moment of silence before Roger reached out and gave Laurie another hug. Her response was as restrained as it had been earlier. Laurie flashed a weak smile and started to leave.

"One other question," Roger said. He stepped between Laurie and the door. "Does any part of this 'difficult time' you've described have anything to do with my still being married?"

"To be honest, I suppose a small amount," Laurie admitted.

"I certainly regret not telling you, and I'm sorry. I know I should have earlier on, but at first it seemed presumptuous you'd care. I mean, I'd gotten to the point I didn't care myself, like it was a non-issue. Then, when we got to know each other, and I'd fallen in love, and I knew you would care, I was embarrassed for not having told you sooner."

"Thank you for apologizing and explaining. I'm sure it will help put the issue behind us."

"That's my hope," Roger said. He gave Laurie's shoulder a tender squeeze, then opened his office door. "We'll talk."

Laurie nodded. "For sure," she agreed, and then walked out.

Roger watched Laurie wend her way among the desks and start down the long corridor. He watched her until she was out of sight, then closed his door. As he moved around his desk and sat down, her scent wafted in the air like a wraith. He was concerned about her, and he was worried that he'd botched their relationship by not being forthright with her, and, more damning, he hadn't come clean. He was still holding back things that she had the right to know if their relationship was to grow, and, worse yet, he wasn't telling her the truth about things that he'd already told her. Contrary to what he had suggested, there were unresolved aspects of his relationship with his wife, including unrequited love on his part, which he had not had the courage to tell Laurie, even though she had had the courage to tell him something similar regarding her former boyfriend, Jack.

Roger's biggest secret from everyone, including his current employers, was that he was a former addict. While in Thailand, he had fallen into the trap of heroin addiction. It had started innocently enough, as a kind of experiment ostensibly so he could better understand and treat patients with the problem. Unfortunately, he had underestimated the drug's seductiveness and his own weaknesses, especially since the heroin was so freely available. It was at this time that his wife and children left him for the protection of her powerful family. It was also the reason he was transferred to Africa and eventually dismissed from the organization. And even though he had gone through an extensive program of rehabilitation and had been reasonably drug-free for years, the specter of the addiction problem still haunted him every day. One problem was that he knew he drank too much. He loved wine and was surreptitiously drinking at least a bottle a night, which made him worry that he was allowing alcohol to become a substitute for heroin. As a physician, particularly one who'd gone through rehab, he knew the risks.

Roger would have agonized longer, but luckily he had the series of suspicious deaths to occupy his thoughts. Although he had been curious about them on his own, it was Laurie's commitment to them that had fanned his interest. He'd used the series to foster a relationship with her, and it had worked superbly. As the weeks had gone by, he'd become enthralled with her and began to think that his idea of coming back to the States to salvage some kind of normal life with a new wife, new kids, and the proverbial white picket fence were within his grasp. Then, with a slip of the tongue, disaster had struck.

Now he needed the series more than ever as a kind of glue to hold things together. The sooner he got the employee lists she suggested, the better. If he was really lucky and came up with something, he could call her that evening and take it over to her apartment.

Roger used the intercom on the phone to get in touch with Caroline, the most efficient secretary. He asked her to come into his office. Next, he got out the hospital phone directory and looked up the director of the human resources department. His name was Bruce Martin. Roger copied down his extension number, and while he was doing so, Caroline appeared and hovered expectantly in the doorway.

"I need some names and phone numbers over at Saint Francis hospital," Roger called out. His voice reflected his sudden zeal. "I want to talk to the chief of the medical staff and the director of human resources as soon as possible."

"Should I get them on the line," Caroline asked, "or do you want to make the call yourself?"

"Get them on the line!" Roger ordered. "Meanwhile, I'll have a quick chat with our own Mr. Bruce Martin."

As Laurie came through the front door of the OCME office, she glanced at her watch.

She was appalled. It was almost noon. The taxi ride from the Manhattan General Hospital had taken an incredible hour and a half. She shook her head. New York could be like that, with all of midtown snarled in traffic like an enormous blood clot. The driver had explained that some major dignitary was in town, although he didn't know whom. Unfortunately, the visit required certain streets to be closed off for the motorcade. As soon as that happened, the entire central portion of the city came to a screeching halt.

Marlene buzzed Laurie in through the main door such that Laurie had to pass the administration area. She was afraid to look through open door, lest Calvin catch sight of her. If she had known she was going to be gone for so long, she would have filled out the two pesky death certificates before she left.

Luckily, the elevator was waiting, so Laurie didn't have to stand fully exposed in the main hall to anyone coming out of administration. As she rode up, she wondered if Roger would follow up on her suggestion and do the detective work she proposed. The more she thought about the idea, the more optimistic she became that it would lead to something. But even if it didn't, it would at least give her the feeling that something was being done about the problem. She didn't even want to think about the individual tragedies that the deaths of young, healthy people in the prime of their lives were causing for their families and loved ones.

Getting off on the fifth floor, Laurie walked quickly down to her office. The door was ajar. Riva was there but on the phone. Laurie hung up her coat and sat down. Centered on her blotter were a series of Post-it notes in Riva's crisp handwriting. Three said merely "Jack came in." Two said "Calvin came in," followed by several exclamation points. The final one said to call Cheryl Meyers.

Hastily, Laurie opened the drawer where she kept the material from her potential serial-killer series and pulled out the McGillin and Morgan folders. From each she took the partially completed death certificates, then reached for a pen. The first certificate was McGillin's, and she positioned the pen over the place on the form where she had to indicate the manner of death. But she hesitated as a mental battle raged between her responsibility of duty as ordered by a superior and her sense of ethics. For her, it was akin to a soldier being ordered to do something that wasn't right, for which he could be held responsible. The only saving grace was that in Laurie's situation, it was not an irrevocable act, and it could be changed. With a sigh, she completed both forms.

At that point, Riva hung up her phone and spun around. "Where have you been? I've tried your cell phone a dozen times."

"I was over at the Manhattan General," Laurie said. She opened her bag, felt around for her phone, took it out, and checked the LCD screen. "Well, that's the explanation why I didn't get your call. I can't seem to remember to turn the blasted thing on. I'm sorry."

"Calvin's been in here twice. I wrote two notes so you'd get the message if you came in when I wasn't here. To say the least, he's not very happy you disappeared."

"I know what it's about," Laurie said as she held up the two death certificates. "This is what he was looking for, so all should be okay."

"I hope so. He was fit to be tied."

"I see Jack stopped by as well."

"That's the understatement of the year. He was here twenty times. Well, that's a bit of an exaggeration. But even he got a little sarcastic with his comments toward the end."

Laurie inwardly groaned. After the effort she'd expended getting Jack to agree to have dinner that night, she hoped her absence hadn't frustrated him enough that he'd call off their date. "Did Jack say what he wanted?"

"No! Just that he was looking for you. As for the last message from Cheryl, she said it wasn't important, but for you to give her a call."

Laurie got up, clutching the two death certificates. "Thanks for being a messenger service. I owe you."

"It wasn't a problem," Riva said. "But out of curiosity, what were you doing over at the Manhattan General for so long?"

"Actually, I spent more time in the taxis than I did at the hospital. But I went over there because I had an idea that might help with my supposed serial-killer series."

"What is it?"

"I'll tell you later. Right now, I'm going to take these death certificates down to Calvin in person to smooth the waters."

"What should I say to Jack if he happens to come by yet again?"

"Tell him I'll be stopping by his office after I see Calvin."

Laurie retraced her steps to the elevator, feeling a twinge of guilt about not sharing her most current problem with Riva. Yet short of the OB office, she knew she didn't want to tell anyone that she was pregnant until she'd told Jack. Of course, she knew that if sharing it with Jack turned out to be as bad as it could possibly be, she might not be sharing it with anyone else.

As the elevator descended, Laurie glanced at the now-completed death certificates.

Even though they could be changed, and in her estimation probably would, it still bothered her that she'd been forced to compromise her professionalism by filling them out as she had. It seemed to her that kowtowing to the needs of bureaucracy was not only ethically repugnant but also a disservice to the memory of the victims.

Once in administration, Laurie had to sit on the couch to wait. Calvin's door was closed, and his secretary, Connie Egan, told her the deputy chief was closeted with a police captain. Laurie wondered if it was Michael O'Rourke, Lou's immediate boss, who was an in-law to the Manhattan General mugging victim. While she waited, she thought about what she was going to say to Jack. If he'd been looking for her as hard as Riva had suggested, it was inevitable he'd ask where she'd been. If he were as jealous as Lou suggested, it was not going to help if he learned that Laurie had gone over to see Roger immediately after getting Jack to commit to having dinner. Yet Laurie promised herself that she wasn't going to fall into the trap of lying.

Thinking about Jack reminded her that she'd not made a dinner reservation. Since it was now afternoon, she knew it was an appropriate time. She eyed the phone on the side table next to where she was sitting. With no one paying her any heed, Laurie called Riva to get the number from her address book on her desk, and then put in the call. As she expected, the restaurant was heavily booked, and Laurie had to settle for a five-forty-five reservation.

Calvin's door opened and a bulky, quintessentially Irish-appearing police officer in his dress blues emerged. He shook hands with Calvin, nodded to Connie and even Laurie, put on his hat, and left. As Laurie's eyes turned back to Calvin, she found herself transfixed by his stare.

"Get in here!" Calvin barked.

Laurie got to her feet and sheepishly passed him to stand inside his office. Calvin shut his door, came over to Laurie, and snatched the papers from her hands. He leaned his backside against his desk while he checked the certificates. Satisfied, he tossed them onto his desk.

"It's about time," Calvin said. "Where the hell have you been? I gave you a paper day to do paperwork, not to go gallivanting around."

"I made what I thought was going to be a quick visit to the Manhattan General Hospital. Unfortunately, the traffic didn't cooperate, and it turned into a much longer errand than I'd expected."

Calvin eyed Laurie suspiciously. "And what were you doing over there, if I may ask?"

"I was talking with the gentleman I mentioned yesterday, the chief of the medical staff."

"You're not going to do anything that will turn out to be an embarrassment to the department, I trust."

"Not that I can imagine. I gave him the information about the Queens cases. It's in his hands to do whatever he thinks is appropriate."

"I don't want to hear you're overstepping your bounds like you've done in the past."

"As I said yesterday, I've learned my lesson." Laurie knew she was again being less than forthright.

"I should hope so. Now get your butt upstairs and sign out the rest of your cases or you'll be out pounding the pavement for alternative employment."

Laurie nodded respectfully and left Calvin's office. She was relieved. She had expected the worst, but the visit turned out to be surprisingly tame. She wondered if Calvin was mellowing.

While she was on the first floor, Laurie poked her head into the forensic investigators'

office to see if she could save herself a call. She found Cheryl busy at her desk and asked her what was on her mind.

"I just wanted to let you know that I called Saint Francis and changed the chart request to urgent."

"Shucks! When I saw your message, I was hoping maybe you'd gotten them already."

Cheryl laughed. "Overnight hospital-chart service? That'll be the day! We'll be lucky to see them in a couple of weeks, even with the urgent classification."