Let Lexa have her evening. In fact, he should be sure to have her leave the hospital earlier. Make sure she went home, had some time for a social life, for her family. Hell. Maybe she should even have a hobby.

The last thing he wanted for Lexa was to end up thirty-five years old, alone, staring at the popcorn ceiling of a crappy apartment with nothing but a beer and a television set for company. She was too special to have her life not come to more than that.

He drained the rest of his beer and headed into the kitchen to pour himself something stronger. Behind him, the news anchor finished bantering with his co-anchor, his voice going suddenly plummy and serious. A twenty-five-year-old Brentwood woman, a laboratory technician at Bridgepoint Hospital, was found dead on the street near her home last night . . .

CHAPTER FOUR

Lexa put her head down and pushed into the wind. The storm that had turned Vincenzo Rohrs hospital room into a gloomy cave earlier in the day had passed, but the wind still whipped at the trees and the air held a damp chill. When would spring start?

The apartment she shared with two other residents was in a building only a few blocks from the Metro. Washington was one of those cities where owning a car could be more of a hindrance than a help. Traffic was nearly always snarled, parking was expensive, and the Metro was clean and safe and convenient if you planned your life well. Lexa was nothing if not a planner. Still, these few blocks at this time of night and in this weather compounded the weariness that was an everyday reality for residents.

She distracted herself from her discomfort by going over the days events in her head. Fibromuscular dysplasia. Morgans diagnosis wasnt just brilliant. It had also been arrived at fast enough for him to save Vincenzos life. Lexas heart clutched a little thinking about Rohrs little daughter, carefully stacking her blocks in the waiting room, unaware of the drama around her. If it had been left to Lexa, Catalina would have never gotten to really know her father. She might not even remember him.

Shed been so close, too! Only a few steps behind the great Morgan Stark. A few steps behind was still behind, though. If only shed kept looking at those genetic possibilities and not distracted herself with possible environmental causes. She wanted to kick herself. Why hadnt she listened to her gut? Morgan was right. She needed to have the courage of her convictions. She made a little vow to trust herself more. After all, how were patients supposed to trust her if she didnt trust herself?