Isabelle’s head dropped. She buried her face in her sister’s gown. “I am so sorry …” Her muffled whimper was barely audible.

“Siblings look out for each other, don’t they?” I said, but I wasn’t talking about Isabelle or Lara anymore. I was remembering my own brother.

Anne had heard enough. She folded her arms over her chest and took two steps farther into the room. “You’ve made your point, Doctor.”

I looked from Anne to Isabelle and then nodded slowly. When I spoke again, my voice was calm. “Lara is going to pull through, Isabelle. But it will take time.”

Isabelle looked up at me and sniffed her relief.

“Where are your mom and dad?” I asked.

“They’re in New York for the week.” She dropped her head in her sister’s gown again, and added in a hush: “They left me in charge … I was supposed to look after Lara.”

I didn’t comment. My fury had dissipated. Replaced by guilt. Who was I, of all people, to criticize anyone for endangering their sibling? I reached across the bed and laid a hand on Isabelle’s vibrating shoulder.

Tina, the young ditsy unit clerk, appeared behind Anne. “Phone call, Dr. D.,” she chirped.

“I’m tied up, Tina,” I said. “Can you take a message?”

“It’s a policewoman. Made it sound kinda urgent.”

Anne spoke up. “You go. I’ll cover.”

I walked over to the central nursing station. As soon as I picked up the receiver, Sergeant Helen Riddell boomed: “Benjamin! Hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time? You weren’t in the middle of pulling Christmas lights or a model airplane out of someone’s rear end.” She laughed heartily. “People sit on the darnedest things, huh?”

“No,” I sighed. “Just finished screaming at a comatose girl.”

“A coma, huh? Well, I’m sure she had it coming.” She chuckled again. “Doctors. You’re all a mystery to me.”

“What’s up, Helen?”

“Oh, yeah,” she said as if she’d forgotten the purpose of her call. “We’re at a murder scene. Wanted your help.”

“A poisoning?”

“Who said anything about poisons?”

“Why else would you call me?” As the toxicology consultant to the Seattle Police Department, I only took calls on poisonings.

“You know at least one of the victims.”

“What?”

“In the bedroom, where we found both bodies, there’s a photo of the female victim standing with an arm around you and your brother.”

I was overcome by a sense of déjà vu. My mind flashed to Helen’s call of two years earlier. The one regarding my twin brother, Aaron. I sat down in the chair by the desk. “Who?” I asked, but of course, I already knew.

“Male victim not yet identified. His wallet is missing. But the woman? We’re pretty sure her name is Emily Jane Kenmore.”