After she was packed, Cassi sat by her bed and waited for her formal discharge. Thomas had canceled his office hours and was going to drive her home around one-thirty or two. Since she had been admitted, his loving attention had not faltered. Somehow he’d managed to find time to visit four or five times a day, often eating dinner in the room along with Cassi’s roommates, whom Thomas had charmed. He’d also completed plans for their vacation, and now with Dr. Obermeyer’s blessings they were to leave in a week and a half.

The thought of the vacation alone was enough to make Cassi feel enormously happy. Except for their honeymoon in Europe, during which Thomas had taken time out to operate and lecture in Germany, they’d never been away together for more than a couple of days. Cassi was anticipating the trip like a five-year-old waiting for Christmas.

Even Dr. Ballantine had visited Cassi during her hospital stay. Her insulin overdose seemed to have particularly unnerved him, and Cassi wondered if he felt responsible because of their talks. When she tried to bring up the subject, he refused to discuss it.

But what really made the rest of the hospitalization so pleasant was Thomas. He had been so relaxed the last five days, Cassi had even been able to talk to him about Robert. She had asked Thomas if she really had met him in Robert’s room the night Robert died or if she’d dreamt it. Thomas laughed and said that he indeed did find her there the night before her surgery. She had been heavily sedated and hadn’t seemed to know what she was doing.

Cassi had been relieved to know she had not hallucinated all the events that night, and although she still questioned certain vague memories, she was willing to ascribe them to her imagination. Especially after Joan made Cassi comprehend the power of her own subconscious.

“Okay,” said Miss Stevens, bustling into the room to see if Cassi was ready. “Here are your medicines. These drops are for daytime use. And this ointment is for bedtime. I also tossed in a handful of eye patches. Any questions?”

“No,” said Cassi, standing up.

Since it was a little after eleven, Cassi carried her suitcase down to the foyer and left it with the people at the information booth. Knowing that Thomas would be busy for at least another two hours, Cassi took the elevator back up to pathology. One of the vague memories she’d not wished to discuss with Thomas concerned the SSD data. She could remember something about the data, but it wasn’t clear, and the last thing she wanted to do was suggest to Thomas she was still interested in the study.

Reaching the ninth floor, Cassi went directly to Robert’s office. Only it was no longer Robert’s. There was a new name plate in the stainless steel holder on the door. It said Dr. Percey Frazer. Cassi knocked. She heard someone yell to come in.

The room was in sharp contrast to the way Robert had kept it. There were piles of books, medical journals, and microscopic slides everywhere she looked. The floor was littered with crumpled sheets of paper. Dr. Frazer matched the room. He had unkempt frizzed hair that merged into a beard without any line of demarcation.

“Can I help you?” he asked, noting Cassi’s surprised reaction to the mess. His voice was neither friendly nor unfriendly.

“I was a friend of Robert Seibert,” said Cassi.

“Ah, yes,” said Dr. Frazer, rocking back in his chair and putting his hands behind his head. “What a tragedy.”

“Do you happen to know anything about his papers?” asked Cassi. “We’d been working on a project together. I was hoping to get hold of the material.”

“I haven’t the slightest idea. When I was offered this office, it had been completely cleaned out. I’d advise you to talk to the chief of the department, Dr…”

“I know the chief,” interrupted Cassi. “I used to be a resident here myself.”

“Sorry I can’t help you,” said Dr. Frazer, tipping forward again in his chair and going back to his work.

Cassi turned to go, but then thought of something else. “Do you know what the autopsy on Robert showed?”

“I heard that the fellow had severe valvular heart disease.”

“What about the cause of death?”

“That I don’t know. They’re waiting on the brain. Maybe they haven’t finished.”

“Do you know if he was cyanotic?”

“I think so. But I’m not the one to be asking. I’m new around here. Why don’t you talk to the chief?”

“You’re right. Thanks for your time.”

Dr. Frazer waved as Cassi left the office, closing the door silently behind her. She went to look for the chief but he was out of town at a meeting. Sadly Cassi decided to sit in Thomas’s waiting room until he was ready to go. Seeing Robert’s old office already occupied had brought his death back to her with unpleasant finality. Having been forced to miss the funeral, Cassi sometimes had trouble remembering her friend was gone. Now she wouldn’t have that problem anymore.

When Cassi reached Thomas’s office she found the door locked. Checking her watch, she realized why. It was just after twelve and Doris was on her lunch break. Cassi got security to open the door to the waiting room and settled herself on the rose sofa.

She tried flipping through the collection of outdated New Yorker magazines, but she couldn’t concentrate. Looking around, she noticed that the door to Thomas’s office was ajar. The one thing Cassi had been effectively denying for the past week was Thomas’s drug taking. With the change in his behavior, she wanted to believe that he’d stopped. But when she was sitting in his office, curiosity got the better of her. She got up, walked past Doris’s desk, and entered the inner office.

It was one of the few times she’d been there. She glanced at the photos of Thomas and other nationally known cardiac surgeons that were arranged on bookshelves. She couldn’t help noticing that there were no pictures of herself. There was one of Patricia, but that was with Thomas Sr. and Thomas himself when he was in college.

Nervously, Cassi seated herself behind the desk. Almost automatically her hand went to the second drawer on the right, the same one where she’d found the drugs at home. As she pulled it out, she felt like a traitor. Thomas had been behaving so wonderfully the last week. Yet there they were: a miniature pharmacy of Percodan, Demerol, Valium, morphine, Talwin, and Dexedrine. Just beyond the plastic vials was a stack of mail-order forms for an out-of-state drug firm. Cassi bent over to look more closely. The firm’s name was Generic Drugs. The prescribing doctor was an Allan Baxter, M.D., the same name that had been on the vials she’d found at home.

Suddenly she heard the waiting room door shut. Resisting a temptation to slam the drawer, she quickly eased it shut. Then, taking a deep breath, she walked out of Thomas’s office.

“My God!” exclaimed Doris with a start. “I had no idea you were here.”

“They let me out early,” said Cassi with a smile. “Good behavior.”

After recovering from her initial shock, Doris felt compelled to inform Cassi that she’d spent the entire previous afternoon canceling today’s office patients so that Thomas could take her home. Meanwhile, she glanced at the inner office, then closed the door.

“Who is Dr. Allan Baxter?” asked Cassi, ignoring Doris’s attempt to make her feel like a burden.

“Dr. Baxter was a cardiologist who occupied the adjoining professional suite that we took over when we added the extra examination rooms.”

“When did he move?” asked Cassi.

“He didn’t move. He died,” said Doris, sitting down behind her typewriter and directing her attention at the material on her desk. Without looking up at Cassi, she added, “If you’d like to sit down, I’m sure that Thomas should be along soon.” She threaded a sheet of paper into her machine and began to type.

“I think I’d prefer to wait in Thomas’s office.”