The courtroom was silent.

“Mr. Burnet, would you like some water?”

“No. I’m fine.” He raised his head, passed his hand across his forehead.

“Please continue when you’re ready.”

“I got a third opinion, too. And everybody said to me that Dr. Gross was the best doctor for this disease.”

“So you initiated your therapy with Dr. Gross.”

“Yes. I did.”

Her father seemed to have recovered. Alex sat back in her chair, took a breath. The testimony unrolled smoothly now, a story her father had told dozens of times before. How he, a scared and frightened man, fearing for his life, had put his faith in Dr. Gross; how he had undergone surgery and chemotherapy under the direction of Dr. Gross; how the symptoms of the disease had slowly faded over the course of the following year; how Dr. Gross had seemed at first to believe that her father was well, his treatment successfully completed.

“You had follow-up examinations with Dr. Gross?”

“Yes. Every three months.”

“With what result?”

“Everything was normal. I gained weight, my strength came back, my hair grew back. I felt good.”

“And then what happened?”

“About a year later, after one of my checkups, Dr. Gross called to say he needed to do more tests.”

“Did he say why?”

“He said some of my blood work didn’t look right.”

“Did he say which tests, specifically?”

“No.”

“Did he say you still had cancer?”

“No, but that’s what I was afraid of. He had never repeated any tests before.” Her father shifted in his chair. “I asked him if the cancer had come back, and he said, ‘Not at this point, but we need to monitor you very closely.’ He insisted I needed constant testing.”

“How did you react?”

“I was terrified. In a way, it was worse the second time. When I was sick the first time, I made my will, made all the preparations. Then I got well and I got a new lease on life-a chance to start over. Then his phone call came, and I was terrified again.”