“Occasionally,” Greg admitted.

Carefully, the two men extracted the blood from both lung cavities. “Maybe I’m wrong about the aortic rupture,” Greg said, staring at the graduated cylinder when they were done. “Only a few hundred cc’s.”

“I don’t think so,” Ken said. He withdrew his hand from inside the chest cavity. “Feel along the aortic arch.”

Looking up at the ceiling as he concentrated on feel, Greg palpated along the aorta. His finger slipped inside. It was an aortic rupture, all right.

“You have promise as a pathologist after all,” Ken said.

“Thanks, all-seeing, all-knowing Karnak the Magnificent,” Greg joked, though he was obviously pleased with the compliment. He turned his attention to the evisceration of the corpse. But as he worked, his forensic mind was beginning to set off alarm bells in his head. There was something wrong with this case; something very wrong.

Having gone through an embryo transfer before, Marissa knew what to expect. There wasn’t much pain involved, especially in comparison with the myriad procedures she’d been enduring over the year, but it was still an uncomfortable and humiliating exercise. To keep her uterus in a dependent position, she had to lie prone with her knees raised to her chest and with her rear end sticking up in the air. Although she had a sheet draped over her, Marissa felt completely exposed. The only people present were Dr. Wingate, his nurse-technician, Tara Mac-Liesh, and Mrs. Hargrave. But then the door opened and Linda Moore came in. The fact that people could come in and out was part of the reason Marissa felt so vulnerable.

“It’s important for you to be relaxed,” Linda said, positioning herself near Marissa’s head. She patted Marissa’s shoulder. “I want you to think relaxing thoughts.”

Marissa knew the therapist meant well, but telling her to think relaxing thoughts seemed absurd. She hardly saw how it would help. And it was particularly hard to relax knowing Robert was outside waiting. Marissa had been surprised he’d come with her that morning since he’d slept in the guest room again.

“Everything is ready,” Dr. Wingate said, keeping Marissa informed, as usual. “And just like we did last time, the first thing we have to do is assure asepsis.”

Marissa felt the sheet drawn back. Now she was literally exposed. She closed her eyes as Linda continued to drone on about relaxing. But Marissa couldn’t relax. So much was riding on this transfer, maybe even her marriage. Robert had accompanied her to the clinic, but neither of them had said a single word through the entire drive from Weston to Cambridge.

“First the sterile speculum,” Dr. Wingate said. A few seconds later, she felt the instrument. “Now I will be rinsing with the culture medium,” Wingate continued.