I could tell she remembered because she shut her mouth.

“I was curious where you picked up my name and number.”

I could see her weighing the pros and cons of a reply.

She said, “You were listed in his hospital chart as next of kin.”

“Are you aware he died ten days ago?” I asked.

Her tone was neutral. “I’m not surprised. He was in bad shape when I saw him last.”

“I was hoping you might answer a question or two.”

“Such as?”

“Did you know he’d enrolled in a drug trial?”

She thought about her answer briefly and then said, “Yes.”

“Are you acquainted with the physician in charge?”

“Dr. Reed. Yes.”

“Did he come into CCU while Terrence Dace was a patient?”

“Once as a visitor, yes. What makes you ask?”

“Someone told me Dace signed himself out of CCU without the doctor’s okay.”

Her stare was unyielding.

“Was there any discussion about why?” I asked.

She dropped her gaze, which made her impossible to read.

I plowed on. “His friends tell me he was scared to death of Dr. Reed. I wondered what the problem was. You have any idea?”

She turned and began walking away from me.

I followed six feet behind, my voice embarrassingly plaintive even to my own ears. “I heard Dr. Reed terminated him for noncompliance, but he was sober when he died. No alcohol or drugs in his system, so what was going on?”

She glanced back at me. “I work for the hospital. I’m not affiliated with the university. You want information about Dr. Reed’s work, talk to him. In the meantime, if you’re hoping I’ll sink to the level of rumor and gossip, you’re out of luck.”

She turned on her heel.

I stopped in my tracks and watched her walk away from me. What had she said? If I was hoping she’d “sink to the level of rumor and gossip”?

“What rumors?” I called after her.

No answer.

•   •   •