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its cradle. She scooped up several sheets of paper and shoved them into a manila folder, which she filed in a bottom drawer of the small desk in one corner of the living room. "I've had sort of a personal crisis around here, and I had to finish trying to deal with it."
    Nick ran his hand through his dark hair and wished he'd gotten that haircut he'd kept putting off. "I should have called first."
    "You wouldn't have gotten through. I've been on the phone for almost an hour, and I refuse to have call waiting. I have trouble enough keeping up with one conversation at a time."She eased down onto the sofa beside him.
    Anna had been tense when he saw her earlier today, and apparently, there were still storm warnings flying. He'd love to see her when she actually relaxed. "I'm glad I caught you," he said.
    "So, what brings you here?"
    Nick hated to jeopardize any chance of turning this into a social occasion by immediately talking about medicine, but that was the reason he was here—or at least, the pretext for the visit. "I got the results of the tests on the blood that Hatley received. Everything checks out. The blood didn't cause the allergic reaction."
    Anna frowned. "So it was the antibiotic."
    "Probably. But you said he tolerated it only a couple of weeks before."
    "Look, I don't have an explanation for it, and right now I have another crisis I'm dealing with." She tucked her feet under her and turned until she faced him. "I know that this afternoon I made a big deal about finding out why Hatley died. Well, it's still a big deal, but unfortunately, it's been overshadowed by some other things—personal things."
    "Anything I can do?" Why had he asked that? It was none of his business. But he wanted it to be.
    She shook her head. "Nothing, but thanks for offering. It's a hassle with my credit card company. I can handle it."
    "Hey, I've been there. They don't cut you much slack, do they?"
    "Not really." Anna rose and took a step toward the door. "I appreciate your willingness to help me dig into the cause of my patient's death. It was nice of you to come here in person to tell me what you've found."
    He stood, but made no move to leave. "No problem. Hatley's death is bothering you, and it's puzzling me. And I'd like to cooperate in the investigation." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "And, to be honest, I enjoyed our time together this afternoon. I'd really like to get to know you better. Think that's possible?"
    Anna looked away. "I'm sorry. I guess you can see I'm pretty preoccupied, and that's one of the curses of being a surgeon. I'm a linear thinker—one thing at a time. I'll worry at this Hatley case like a dog with a bone, and until I get some answers I doubt that I'll be very social."
    "I can wait. Meanwhile, let me help you with the Hatley case."
    "Frankly, I can't even see why you want to get involved. It was my patient who died. I'm the one who had to face the family. I'm the one who'll probably get sued."
    Nick saw the pain in her eyes, heard it in her voice. "You have every reason to want some answers. Maybe I want answers too. One of the things pathologists are good at is piecing together evidence and coming up with conclusions. This is important to me too. If we can pin down the reason Eric Hatley had that reaction, maybe it will keep another patient from dying."
    Anna chewed on her lower lip. "Okay," she said. "We can work together on the Hatley case."
    Nick checked the time. Half past seven. "What would you think about doing it over dinner?"
    She shook her head. "No, I'm just going to—" She stopped, and her face crumpled.
    "What's the matter?" he asked.
    "I started to say that I was just going to cook something for myself tonight. But I can't because I don't have anything here to cook. When I went to get groceries this afternoon—" She looked away. "They told me my credit card was maxed out."
    Nick knew how that felt. "Hey, I've had that happen to me. This is my treat."
    "No, that's not it. The card