“Whether we should be doing this ,” he said, waving a hand around as if to encompass the whole hospital. “Taking out organs, putting in new ones. Sometimes I feel like the modern Frankenstein, other people’s parts in me.”

“One other person, one other part. Let’s not be so dramatic.”

“But it’s the big part, isn’t it? You know, when I was with the bureau, we had to qualify on the range every year. You know, shoot at targets. And the best way to qualify was to go for the heart. The circle around the heart on those targets scores more than the head. It’s called the ten ring. Highest score.”

“Look, if this is the aren’t – we – acting – like – God debate again, I thought we were well past that.”

She shook her head, smiled and looked him over for a few seconds. The smile eventually dropped away.

“What’s really wrong?”

“I don’t know. I guess I’m feeling guilty.”

“What, about living?”

“I don’t know.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. We’ve been through this, too. I have no time for survivor’s guilt. Look at the choices here. It’s simple. You’ve got life on one side and then you’ve got death. Big decision. What is there to be guilty about?”

He raised his hands in surrender. She always put things in their clearest context.

“Typical,” she said, refusing to let him back off. “You hang around almost two years waiting for a heart, draw your string out and nearly don’t even make it, and now you wonder if we should have even given it to you. What’s really bothering you, Terry? I don’t have time to be bullshitting with you.”

He looked back at her. She had developed a skill at reading him. It was something all the best bureau agents and cops he had known had. He hesitated and then decided to say what was on his mind.

“I guess I want to know how come you didn’t tell me that the woman whose heart I got had been murdered.” She was clearly taken aback. The shock of his statement showed on her face.