“So you just leave them in the refrigerator?”

“Until we can get to them.”

“What if you hadn’t heard her moving tonight?” He turned to look at her. “You mean she might have been left there until tomorrow morning?”

Maura felt her cheeks flush. “Yes,” she admitted.

“Dr. Cutler, ICU has a bed available,” a nurse said. “Is that where you want her?”

He nodded. “We have no idea what drugs she might have taken, so I want her on a monitor.” He looked down at the patient, whose eyes were now closed. Her lips continued to move, as though in silent prayer. “This poor woman’s already died once. Let’s not have it happen again.”

Maura could hear the phone ringing inside her house as she fumbled with her keys, trying to unlock the door. By the time she made it into the living room, the ringing had stopped. Whoever had called had not left a message. She cycled through the most recent numbers on caller ID, but did not recognize the last caller’s name: ZOE FOSSEY. A wrong number?

I refuse to worry about it, she thought, and started toward the kitchen.

Now her cell phone was ringing. She dug it out of her purse, and saw from the digital display that the caller was her colleague, Dr. Abe Bristol.

“Hello, Abe?”

“Maura, you want to fill me in about what happened at the ER tonight?”

“You know about it?”

“I’ve gotten three calls already. The Globe, the Herald. And some local TV station.”

“What are these reporters saying?”

“They’re all asking about the corpse who woke up. Said she just got admitted to the medical center. I had no idea what they were talking about.”

“Oh, Jesus. How did the press find out so soon?”

“So it’s true?”

“I was going to call you-” She stopped. The phone was ringing in the living room. “I’ve got another call coming in. Can I get back to you, Abe?”