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the children’s minds off their troubles by playing a board game with them or making a puzzle or drawing a picture. Having no family around, it was therapy for Charlotte as well.
    The memories clogged her mind and she barely heard Clay when he suggested they continue on the tour. Were those memories as vivid for Clay? Doubtful.
    For the next half hour, Clay was the ultimate ambassador for the hospital. If she hadn’t known him, she would have expected a subtle request for a large donation at the end of the tour. Instead, she was the beneficiary of Clay’s time and attention. She’d even caught him staring at her a time or two, his gaze much more than idle curiosity over a long, lost friend. At least that’s what she chose to believe, given the shivers those eyes elicited from every nerve ending.
    When he finally brought her to the main entrance of the hospital, disappointment swirled around her, their brief time together over. A miniscule grain of hope pitted in her brain. Maybe she could bring the conversation around to his prior dinner invitation. This time she wouldn’t be so negative.
    Just then his phone buzzed. The conversation was brief and curt. “I’m sorry, Charlotte, but I have to go. Great seeing you again.” He squeezed her arm and without more, he left.
    She watched his retreating back, strong and solid, his stride purposeful, until he disappeared.
    Along with her hope.
    ****
    “Good. You’re finally alone.” Clay plopped himself into a chair in front of the chief of surgery’s desk, trying to diminish the anxiety building up all day. His only reprieve had been the time spent with Charley. “I need to talk to you about something.”
    “You and everyone else.” Collins peered over his reading glasses, looking weary.
    Collins claimed he never had enough time in a day to deal with all the problems raised by the doctors who gladly dropped those problems in his lap.
    “Sorry to bother you at the end of the day, Richard, but I couldn’t get away any sooner.”
    “Like my day ends at five.” Collins removed his glasses and sat back in his chair. “I’m all ears.”
    Clay had learned from experience the best way to deal with Collins was to cut to the chase. “This morning, a twenty-five-year-old male by the name of John Lincoln, was brought in by the Princeton police. They said he’d been handcuffed in the back of the patrol car and was cursing up a storm, accusing them of brutality. On the way to the police station, he started complaining of chest and back pain, so they detoured here.” Clay shifted in his chair. “We brought him in, hooked him up to a cardiac monitor, pulse oximeter, took his blood pressure, did an EKG. The EKG was normal, but his pressure was high. So we gave him Lopressor, aspirin, nitroglycerin. I ordered a chest x-ray, blood screening, comprehensive metabolic evaluation. We set him up with an IV, gave him oxygen. He was fine.
    “Then an ambulance brought in two kids who’d been hit by a car at their school bus stop. The kids were in critical condition and we rushed to take care of them. Twenty minutes later, when I got Lincoln’s chest x-ray, it showed an aortic dissection. The CT scan confirmed it. We whisked him to the OR, but he had a ruptured aneurysm.”
    Collins rubbed his hand over his eyes, a trait that acknowledged whatever was coming couldn’t be good.
    “Don’t tell me he died in the OR,” Collins said quietly.
    “Yes.”
    “Who operated?”
    “Dr. Hauser.”
    “Did someone reach the decedent’s family?”
    “Yes. His wife and parents were understandably upset; shocked. They were threatening to call the papers, their lawyer, their pastor...” Clay shook his head. “They couldn’t understand how a young, healthy guy like that could die so suddenly. They want to blame someone. The police. Us.”
    “I’m sure you followed standards of care.” Collins’ unwavering trust in him helped ease the dread he still felt.
    “Even so, I’m afraid this is