his job.
He found the nurse, shaken and pale, just outside the emergency room. “What’s happened?” he asked.
“It’s a baby,” the nurse replied, her voice quaking. She nodded toward the door. “She’s in there with her mother. It’s Julie Montgomery, and Sally won’t let go of her. She just keeps insisting that she has to make the baby warm.” Her voice faltered, then she went on. “I—I called Dr. Wiseman.”
Malone nodded. Though Julie Montgomery was his patient, the child’s mother was Art Wiseman’s. “Is he coming?”
“He should be here any minute,” the nurse promised. Even as she spoke, the distinguished gray-haired figureof Arthur Wiseman strode purposefully through the door from the parking lot.
The older doctor sized the situation up at once.
Sally Montgomery was sitting on a chair, with Julie cradled in her arms. She looked up at Wiseman, and her eyes were wide and empty.
Shock, Wiseman thought She’s in shock. He moved toward her and tried to take Julie from her arms. Sally drew back and turned away slightly.
“She’s cold,” Sally said, her voice no more than a whisper. “She’s cold, and I have to make her warm.”
“I know, Sally,” Wiseman said softly. “But why don’t you let us do it? Isn’t that why you brought her here?”
Sally stared at him for a moment, then nodded her head. “Yes … I—I guess so. She’s not sick, Dr. Wiseman. I know she’s not sick. She’s—she’s just cold. So cold …” Her voice trailed off, and she surrendered the tiny body to the doctor. Then she covered her face with her hands and began to cry. Wiseman gave Julie to Mark Malone.
“See what you can do,” he said softly.
Leaving Sally Montgomery under Wiseman’s care, Malone took Julie Montgomery’s body into a treatment cubicle. For the child, he knew already, there was no hope of resuscitation. But even knowing it was already far too late, he began trying to revive her. A few minutes later, holding Julie as if his will alone could bring her back to life, he felt a presence in the room and glanced up. It was Wiseman.
“Is she gone?” he asked.
Malone nodded. “There’s nothing I can do,” he said. “She’s been dead at least an hour.”
Wiseman sighed. “Any idea what happened?”
“I can’t be sure yet, but it looks like SIDS.”
Wiseman’s eyes closed, and he ran his hand through his hair, brushing it back from his forehead. Damn, he swore to himself. Why does it happen? Why? Then he heard Malone’s voice again.
“Is Steve here?”
“He was calling someone. His mother-in-law, I think. I ordered Valium for Sally.”
“Good. Do you want me to talk to Steve?”
Wiseman, his eyes fixed on Julie Montgomery’s tiny body, didn’t answer for a moment. When he did, his voice was hollow. “I’ll do it,” he said. “I know Steve almost as well as I know Sally.” He paused, then spoke again. “Will you do an autopsy?”
“Of course,” Malone replied, “but I don’t think well find anything. Julie Montgomery was one of the healthiest babies I’ve ever seen. And I saw her two days ago. Nothing wrong. Nothing at all. Shit!”
Malone looked down into the tiny face cradled in his arms. Julie Montgomery, to look at her, seemed to be asleep. Except for the deadly pallor and the coldness of her flesh. No injuries, no signs of sickness.
Only death.
“I’ll take her downstairs,” Malone said. He turned away, and Wiseman watched him until he disappeared around a corner. Only then did he return to the waiting room, where Steve Montgomery was now sitting by his wife, holding her hand. He looked up at the doctor, his eyes questioning. Wiseman shook his head.
“There was nothing that could be done,” he said, touching Steve on the shoulder. “Nothing at all.”
“But what happened?” Steve asked. “She was fine. There wasn’t anything wrong with her. Nothing!”
“We don’t know yet,” Wiseman replied. “Well do an autopsy, but I don’t