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this be the same man who'd so dispassionately
said, "Death is always a factor"?
    "Why the delay?" Claire asked. "This boy's stable and comfortable. Shouldn't he have gone to his room long before now?"
    Her question was met with an awkward silence. Then Logan
gave a short, brittle laugh. "Yes, Sarah Burke was all set to take him
upstairs before her shift ended. But she-" he paused with a faint
smirk-"was delayed by peer counseling."
    Claire bristled but found herself strangely relieved to be back in
familiar territory. Just because he was concerned about an injured
child didn't mean the man had been reformed. "Look," she said,
lowering her voice as a nurse guided a patient to an adjacent
cubicle, "administration threw me in here today. No warning. No
choice. I wanted to be here about as much as you want me here."
    Logan said nothing for a moment while he studied her, almost
as if he were seeing her for the first time. Claire wasn't sure, but
there may have been a smile playing at the edges of his mouth.
She brushed a tendril of hair from the side of her neck, suddenly self-conscious as Logan's gaze followed every millimeter of the
movement.

    "Good," he said finally, the suggestion of a smile gone. He nodded as if they'd sealed a deal. "Then we're in agreement after all."
    "Agreement?"
    "That this CISM business is counterproductive."
    She stared into his face, wanting nothing more than to nod
furiously and retrace her steps out of this place. Back to the education department, where she had protocols to write and a procedure
demonstration to outline, tasks that would take her closer to her
goal of being hired to a full-time educator position. Not add to
her bouts of insomnia. Logan was actually making it easy for her.
Wasn't he?
    He leaned toward her again, his whisper conspiratorial. "So
what would it take?"
    "What do you mean?"
    "To satisfy administration. Sign us off here." Logan sighed.
"I'm all for doing whatever it takes to make my team the best it
can be, but in my experience, there's nothing worse than dwelling
needlessly on tragedy."
    Claire saw a fleeting look, almost like a memory of pain, flicker
in his eyes.
    He pressed his palm against the side rail of the gurney. "It's
like this: you go around telling people that they need to explore
their feelings, all that sort of shrink-to-fit nonsense, and then the
team starts falling apart." He jabbed a finger in the air. "The links
weaken."
    Weaken? Claire's stomach twisted into a familiar knot as the
thought struck her. That's probably what the Sacramento doctor had labeled her in the weeks after her brother's death, when despair left her numb and immobile and barely able to function.
A weak link.

    "I'm not saying that this isn't killer work," Logan continued,
his voice fervent. "I'm just saying there are better ways to deal with
it, that's all."
    The knot in her stomach turned to anger, and Claire raised her
chin, refusing to blink as she stared him in the eyes. "Oh?" she
said, daring-maybe even needing-Logan Caldwell, of all people,
to offer something that finally made heartbreak bearable. "And
how do you deal with it, Doctor? Personally, I mean." She walked
around the end of the gurney to stand directly in front of him and
crossed her arms. "Go ahead, enlighten me."
    "I . . ." He hesitated, unsure of his answer maybe or shocked
by her nerve.
    Claire waited, trying not to think about the hospital's chain of
command. How much influence did Goliath have over the education department? Could he block her promotion? get her fired
completely?
    Logan laughed softly and ran a hand over his dark hair. His
face grew serious, and once again his fatigue was very apparent.
When he spoke, his voice sounded far away, almost vulnerable.
"Speeding, maybe? Sure. My motorcycle on a mountain road, fast
as it goes. To any place where nobody needs anything from me and
where time just passes. Instead of being measured as seconds lost
on some