I’M BACK AT GRAMATAN University Hospital the next morning. Early. The chaos and crowds on the sidewalks and entrance roads are overwhelming. It looks as if every newsperson in New York City has shown up to cover the scene. Yep, I guess my boss, Dr. Barrett Katz, could not keep news of the second missing baby under wraps.

“Are you on staff here at the hospital?” asks a preppy-looking guy outside the employees’ entrance to GUH. I assume he’s a reporter.

“Sure am,” I say.

Then, as I begin to walk away, he calls out loud and nasty, “Just hold it, lady. I need ID.”

I hand the preppy-looking guy my ID. He studies it.

“Your department?” he asks.

“I work in the cafeteria. I make the baloney sandwiches for lunch. One-third of them with mayo, one-third with mustard, one-third plain.”

A few other Gramatan employees are backed up behind me.

“Your attitude isn’t helping the situation, ma’am,” the guy says. And you know what? He’s right. I’m acting exactly like the kind of asshole I’d hate to be talking to.

“Sorry, man. I’m just cranky.” A pause. “I’m with the Midwifery Division.”

It’s a good thing I changed my tune. As I slip my ID back inside my wallet, I notice that two NYPD officers are standing on either side of me. They’ve been taking in my whole act.

“Sorry,” I say.

Then I see the all-too-familiar sight of Dr. Katz and Dr. Sarkar. They’re precisely where I saw them yesterday, doing their usual job: stopping hospital staff and giving them instructions.

My turn.

“Ms. Ryuan, I’ll be perfectly happy if you give out absolutely no information to the media,” says the very harassed Dr. Katz.

“Your happiness is always my goal, Doctor,” I say. I see that a small smile has invaded Sarkar’s lips. Katz ignores the sarcasm. He’s become very good at ignoring me.

“I noticed that you couldn’t even check in without making a scene, Ms. Ryuan. The time has come for you to learn a little respect,” Katz says.

“And I guess you’ll be the one to teach me respect?” I say.

Katz storms off.

I’m sure this is doing wonders for my career. The hell with it. If he ever touches me, I’ll have ten lawyers, all women.

Now Dr. Sarkar decides to speak. But of course before he talks, he, too, does the traditional eye roll. “Lucy, Dr. Katz is under a lot of pressure. Be nice.”

“To whom? To him? Obviously his solution to this horrendous, heartbreaking, terrible problem is to hire a lot more security people and warn us not to talk to the media. The media—for God’s sake—can be helpful. People go online. People watch TV. The people—those folks out there—might have information to help us.”