“Ruth, come on. That’s not helpful,” I said. I didn’t want to step in unless I had something to add.

The director remained composed. She explained, “We have patient wristbands, verbal confirmations, locked doors, cameras. We have state-of-the-art technology, including a matching DNA protocol for mothers and babies, and as I have already explained, for newborns, the ID bracelets are embedded with a security chip—”

“—that is tied to an alarm system, I know, I know—” said Ruth, exasperated.

“So if they leave before they are discharged, the alarm is triggered,” said the director.

“But it only works when they go out the door,” said Ruth. “Doesn’t work for windows.”

“Correct.”

“Well, what is our remedy here?” I asked, trying to move us forward. “Cally broke your policy, so is there anything you can do about that?”

Ruth added, “I mean, she took the baby. She hadn’t been discharged, right?”

The director of patient relations took a deep breath, smiled. Saying each word deliberately and gently, she explained, “Our patients are free to leave the building before they are discharged. It’s not our preference, but it happens. More than you would think.”

“Really?” I said, genuinely surprised if not skeptical. But also, I’d used this curiosity technique in my real estate negotiations. By asking questions, I’d keep the opposing party talking, and soon enough, they’d reveal a fact or weakness I could use.

“I know what you’re doing, Hal,” said Ruth. “And I hate it.”

I put my hand on Ruth’s shoulder, trying to get her on my side. She shook me off and gave me a glare.

“Yes, from time to time, patients leave without being discharged,” said the director, as if about to share some outlandish hospital anecdotes.

Ruth couldn’t take it anymore. “Oh, so people jump out windows all the time—”

“Well, no, not that extreme, but as I was explaining to your husband . . .” The director was calm and measured, which only seemed to make Ruth more distrustful.

“With a baby?” Ruth asked, as if wagering that ours was the most extreme public relations event this poor director had yet to deal with in her entire sad career.

“Ruth,” I said, not knowing what else to say.

“What is it, Hal? Did you want to say something to me?” Ruth glowered, and I nodded, letting her know she couldn’t scare me away. Letting her know I was on her side and strong enough to take these arrows. She slung another one. “Or did you want to speak for me, Hal?”

This was a reference to our first date, when I’d stupidly tried to order for her, an act I will forever regret. “Ruth,” I said. “Come on, please.”