Chapter 11: Sample: One Ring

At a quarter to seven that evening, Kasper was standing in the emergency department lobby with a camera crew.

I saw him through the glass doors from the parking lot.

He wore the navy blazer, and a man with a shoulder-mounted camera was filming him from the front.

Behind them stood the sponsor liaison, holding a boom microphone on a long pole.

My feet slowed on the pavement.

Then I thought of the napkin, and my feet sped up.

I walked through the sliding doors in my scrubs with my coat on my arm.

"Anja," Kasper said warmly to the camera. "There she is. My wife."

"Ex-wife," I said. "As of Thursday."

"I'm here as a husband. I'm here as a man who's worried."

The waiting room had stopped to watch.

A nurse's aide stood frozen by the water cooler, and a man in a neck brace had turned his whole body in his chair.

"Filming patients in a waiting room is against hospital policy," I said. "Turn that camera off."

"This is a public lobby."

"It's a hospital."

"I'm here to resolve this privately."

"With a camera."

"For my listeners," Kasper said, and gave the lens a small, sad smile. "They deserve to know I tried."

I looked at him for a moment.

Then I twisted the plain gold band off my left hand.

I had not taken it off in six years.

It had left a pale groove on my finger.

I went to the supply cart by the triage desk, took out a plastic specimen cup, and dropped the ring in it.

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