THAD SAT in the booth at the steak house long after Macy had left, staring at the report Rychert had compiled on Macy McKinney. It was certainly thorough. She’d been raised an only child by a single mother who’d worked for the Department of Motor Vehicles for thirty years and was now retired and living in Las Vegas. She’d attended college on academic scholarship, had dated a lot, despite her pressing studies, and had married a popular football player for the University of Utah. They’d had one daughter, who would be five years old now, and had divorced a year ago when her husband took off with a teenager who’d worked at the local McDonald’s. Since her husband left, she’d enrolled in school again, for the first time since having the baby, and she was now living on student loans, plus some help from her mother, and what she could earn at home transcribing, formatting and proofreading dictated medical reports for various physicians.

      Not an easy life for a bright young woman like Ms. McKinney, but one with promise. Her history pointed to an inner strength, dedication and resilience that Thad admired. Rychert had found no evidence of drug use, no alcohol abuse, though she did drink heavily for a short period after her marriage broke up, no particularly worrisome diseases or mental instability lurking in her family genes. And no sexual indiscretions beyond the claims of that one bartender at Studio 9.

      Few women had a résumé so clean. Thad had thought he’d found the one. Until she’d lied to him. Then he’d known it would never work. He refused to involve himself with someone he couldn’t trust, not when it came to his child.

      Sighing, he finished his drink and pushed the baked potato around some more on his plate. Sex was an uncomfortable subject for most people. With her goal of becoming a pediatrician hanging in the balance, he understood how strong the temptation to lie must have been. But understanding did little to alleviate his disappointment that, regardless of her initial candor, Macy McKinney had turned out to be no better than anyone else.

      His cellular phone chirped, interrupting his thoughts. Pushing his plate away, he punched the Talk button. “Thad Winters.”

      “It’s Rychert. Did I catch you at a good time?”

      Thad looked across at the empty booth, then thought of going home to his empty house. Once he left work, he had nothing but time. He used to spend the evenings with Valerie, painting the nursery, landscaping their yard, cleaning their garage or cars. Since her death, he didn’t know how to fill the evening hours. Her parents and younger sibling had moved out of state when her father retired the year after he and Valerie were married, and they rarely called. His own parents spent their winters in Arizona and wouldn’t be back for a few weeks yet, which left him with a sister and a brother who lived close but had families and busy lives of their own. Sometimes he still tinkered around the house, but there didn’t seem to be much point anymore. At least at the restaurant he could hear the quiet buzz of other people’s conversations, the tinkle of a woman’s laugh.

      “Now is good,” he said. “What’s up?”

      “Did you get the report on Macy McKinney I sent by courier?”

      Thad frowned at the papers that still rested on the table, almost wishing he’d never seen them. “Yeah.”

      “What do you think?”

      “I was hopeful until she walked out on me a few minutes ago.”

      There was a brief silence on the other end of the line. Then, “Well, if she’s no longer a possibility, this might not matter, but I was just clearing off my desk to go home and ran across a page of the report I inadvertently left out.”

      “I don’t think you left anything out. I’ve got pages one through four and nothing seems missing.”

      “This was the last page, page five. Somehow, it didn’t get clipped to the rest.”

      Thad shook his glass and listened to the ice clank against the sides. “No problem. It can’t possibly say anything that’s going to make a difference now, anyway.”

      “I don’t know. It goes a long way toward explaining why she contacted you in the first place.”

      “The money isn’t reason enough?”

      “Not for a babe like her. She’s a class act. Single mother, med student, high achiever.”

      Putting his glass down, Thad threw his credit card on the table as the waitress came to collect the plates. “Greed can strike anyone, Rychert. She’s a starving student. She has to pay for her schooling somehow. Besides, the part of your report I did receive says she drives an old Pinto. Sounds like she could use a new car.”

      “She could use a lot of things, but it’s not school or cars or anything like that she’s concerned about. She has something much bigger on her mind.”

      Now Rychert had his full attention. “Oh, yeah? What’s that?”

      “Her daughter needs a bone marrow transplant. Without it, she’ll die.”

      CHAPTER THREE

      PRIMARY CARE HOSPITAL was a creamy-white building located on Medical Drive next to the university hospital. It hummed with the fans and belts that ran the air-conditioning, specialized medical equipment and various office machines. The chilled air carried a hint of antiseptic, and the cloying smell of serious illness pervaded the place, but Thad tried not to notice. Instead, he focused on the petite, gray-haired nurse sitting at the receptionist’s desk just inside the main entrance.

      “I’m looking for Haley McKinney’s room,” he said when he reached her.

      The nurse glanced at the clock, then eyed the huge stuffed teddy bear propped under Thad’s arm. “Visiting hours are over.”

      “I know I’m a little late, but I won’t stay long.”

      She looked at the bear again. “Well, her mother’s with her. If you make it quick, I don’t see how it can hurt anything, as long as you scrub up before you go in. Her immune system is so low, we have to be careful what germs she comes in contact with. Wait a minute. They moved her a day or two ago. Let me check her room number.” She swiveled away to consult her computer. “Take this hallway to the elevators and go up to the fourth floor. When you get off, you’ll see a set of doors leading to the oncology department. Right inside is a small anteroom where you’ll scrub your hands and arms and face. Just make sure the outer door is closed before you open the inside one. You don’t have a cold or anything, do you?”

      “No.”

      “Fine. Haley’s in room 3.”

      Thad thanked her and pushed away from the counter, growing increasingly uneasy with the memories this sterile environment evoked. He hadn’t expected it to be quite so bad, but now that he was standing in the middle of the hospital lobby, he couldn’t avoid the memories of Valerie’s last days. He had spent many hours in a similar place, waiting while the doctors operated, hoping, praying, staring