Chapter 5: Normal

I knew exactly who he was typing to.

So that night I didn't go back to the motel.

I slept in the on-call room on the ninth floor with my pager on my chest.

At 7:40 a.m. I was standing outside the second-floor lab.

Ethan came up the stairs with two coffees.

"You didn't sleep."

"Neither did you."

He handed me one.

"I talked to the lab director. The sample gets drawn, labeled, and walked straight into the machine. Nobody else touches it."

"Pierce will try something."

"I know. That's why I'm here."

At 8:05, Camille arrived in a wheelchair.

Nathaniel was pushing it. Margaret walked beside her holding a blanket.

Camille wore big sunglasses and a knit hat.

She'd walked into my dining room in heels two nights ago.

Margaret saw me and her mouth went thin.

"I hope you're proud of yourself. Dragging a dying girl out of bed at dawn."

"Good morning, Margaret."

The phlebotomist was a big quiet man.

He tied the band around Camille's arm.

I watched her arm.

Smooth, pale skin. No fistula. No scars from old needles.

The phlebotomist filled two tubes and labeled them in front of all of us.

Then a man in a courier jacket stepped through the door.

"Pickup for Pierce Renal," he said. "Dr. Pierce wants the second tube sent to his lab for comparison."

He reached for the tray.

Ethan put his hand flat on top of it.

"No."

"I've got a signed request right here."

"And I've got a hospital policy that says patient samples don't leave this room."

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