“Where are you taking her?” Maura said.

“Right across the street. The ER. If you have any paperwork they’ll want a copy.”

She nodded. “I’ll meet you there.”

A long line of patients stood waiting to register at the ER window, and the triage nurse behind the desk refused to meet Maura’s attempts to catch her eye. On this busy night, it would take a severed limb and spurting blood to justify cutting to the front of the line, but Maura ignored the nasty looks of other patients and pushed straight to the window. She rapped on the glass.

“You’ll have to wait your turn,” the triage nurse said.

“I’m Dr. Isles. I have a patient’s transfer papers. The doctor will want them.”

“Which patient?”

“The woman they just brought in from across the street.”

“You mean that lady from the morgue?”

Maura paused, suddenly aware that the other patients in line could hear every word. “Yes,” was all she said.

“Come on through, then. They want to talk to you. They’re having trouble with her.”

The door lock buzzed open, and Maura pushed through, into the treatment area. She saw immediately what the triage nurse had meant by trouble. Jane Doe had not yet been moved into a treatment room, but was still lying in the hallway, her body now draped with a heating blanket. The two EMTs and a nurse struggled to control her.

“Tighten that strap!”

“Shit-her hand’s out again-”

“Forget the oxygen mask. She doesn’t need it.”

“Watch that IV! We’re going to lose it!”

Maura lunged toward the stretcher and grabbed the patient’s wrist before she could pull out the intravenous catheter. Long black hair lashed Maura’s face as the woman tried to twist free. Only twenty minutes ago, this had been a blue-lipped corpse in a body bag. Now they could barely restrain her as life came roaring back into her limbs.