“Hang on a sec.” He covered the phone, and yelled to his colleagues: “Lina, Seth, go on ahead. I’ll catch up.” Then he put the receiver back to his ear and updated Louise on Oraloxin’s promising early clinical trials in Seattle.

“Ha—you were right all along!” Louise trumpeted. “That explains it.”

“Explains what?”

“Why the powers-that-be keep calling from St. Michael’s,” she said.

“My privileges have been reinstated?”

“You got that right. Dr. Teal has called at least three times and faxed as many letters,” she snorted. “If that stuffed shirt could figure out a way to fax over the key to the hospital, our machine would be spitting out metal by now.”

Kilburn laughed. “C’mon Louise, he did what he had to. Anyone else looking for me?”

“Everyone,” she groaned. “I expect to see your face on the back of milk cartons soon.”

“Has Kyra called?”

“Once.” Before Kilburn could ask, Louise added: “Don’t worry. She sounds fine, Dr. Kilburn. She saw all the news coverage, and she was concerned about you.”

The relief was immediate. If Kyra weren’t sober, he knew Louise would have picked up on it. “Who else?”

“Let’s see.” Kilburn heard Louise shuffle through papers. “A bunch of S.O.S. calls from local docs. A couple of calls from Atlanta and Geneva. None of them sounded urgent enough to bug you about. And one call from an old classmate of your …”—he heard more pages rustled—“a Dr. Ellen Horton in Philadelphia. She called this morning.”

Kilburn cursed himself for not getting back to Horton sooner about the Seattle results.

“Oh, I almost forgot one other message,” Louise said, but he knew she never forgot anything. She must have been saving the message for last. “Michelle called yesterday.”

Kilburn had a painfully clear vision of Michelle in jeans and a T-shirt kneeling on the sofa. He pictured her holding a mug of coffee in both hands and pinning the phone to her ear with a shoulder. “What was she calling about?” he asked.

“She said it could wait,” Louise said offhandedly. “Said she’ll try you later in the week.”

Kilburn knew his receptionist would have gotten far more out of Michelle, but he didn’t dare ask, apprehensive of what he might learn about Michelle’s new life. “Thanks, Louise. I better catch up with the others.”

“Hey, Dr. K.,” she said. “Was I right about Dr. Lopez?”

“Not far off,” he said evasively.

“And?” Louise prompted.

“And what, Louise?” He realized how his words might have come across as defensive. “Things have been going to hell in a handbasket around here.” He forced a laugh. “Doesn’t leave much time for chatting up the ladies.”

“You know, Dr. Kilburn,” Louise said, undeterred, “if you catch the traffic right, it’s only two and a half hours from Vancouver to Seattle.”