She wondered if her presence here annoyed Goodfellow and if she was somehow overstepping her parameters. Her enthusiasm had made her guilty of that more than once.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Goodfellow," she apologized. "I didn't mean to disturb you."

The cardiologist sighed, shaking his head as he looked at the X-rays. "You're not what's disturbing me, Dr. Pulaski."

She didn't like the sound of that.

"Are those Mrs. Baker's X-rays?" She asked the question as a matter of decorum. She knew they were. She'd asked Dr. Allen, the radiologist, if he'd read them yet and was told that they were already with Dr. Goodfellow, who was in the process of studying them in the small, windowless room set aside just for that purpose.

"Yes." Indicating the lineup with a nod of his head, Goodfellow asked, "See anything there that might concern you?"

Her first thought was that he was referring to some anomaly that had to do with Mrs. Baker's heart. After all, that was why the woman was here in the first place. But as she looked at the X-rays, Nika was struck by the appearance of something else.

Her eyes widened as she drew closer for a better look. Her heart began to race. Not good.

"Is that...?" Her voice trailed off for a moment as the magnitude of what she was looking at sank in. She raised her eyes to meet Dr. Goodfellow's. "There's a ma.s.s in her right breast."

"Yes," the doctor acknowledged very quietly, "there is."

"Is it benign?" she asked hopefully, despite the fact that she knew there was no way to tell without a biopsy.

"That is the million-dollar question," Goodfellow replied solemnly. "We're going to have to do a biopsy in order to find out."

She thought of the heart surgery the woman was supposed to have tomorrow. "What about her ablation?"

He shook his head. "That's going to have to be put on hold. Doing a biopsy of the ma.s.s takes precedence over the ablation," he informed her.

There was still another matter to take into consideration. Something that interfered with either procedure. "What about Mrs. Baker's elevated blood pressure?"

"That is a complication," the doctor agreed. "But since the ma.s.s is rather a large one, I really don't think we have the luxury of sending her home and waiting until the reading is on a more even keel. We need to keep her here and monitor her," he said, thinking out loud. He looked at the center X-ray. "This really doesn't look promising."

Nika always focused on the hopeful aspects, no matter how small. It was what had seen her through more than one unnerving situation. Mentally, she crossed her fingers, hoping that she could get Mrs. Baker to see things that way.

It wasn't going to be easy.

Nika glanced toward the surgeon. "She doesn't know about this yet, does she?"

"I didn't know until just a few minutes ago when Jake got the films and brought them to me," he said, referring to the radiologist.

Nika slowly felt the doctor out. Some doctors didn't like including residents in their sessions. "If it's all right with you, doctor, I'd like to be there when you break the news to her."

Darel Goodfellow looked at her in surprise. "Why would you want to do that?" he asked her. "Most of the doctors I know go out of their way not to be the one to give a patient what might be tantamount to a death sentence."

Nika fought against the premature a.s.sumption. "We don't know for certain that it's malignant yet, Dr. Goodfellow."

After a beat, the doctor inclined his head, as if remembering. He smiled indulgently. "Oh yes, I've almost forgotten what it was like, being new on the job and full of optimism. By all means," he agreed, "you can come along with me when I tell her. You might do her more good than you think."

Nika didn't bother correcting the doctor, but she knew exactly what the power of positive thinking could do for a patient. It was the difference between being resigned to die and finding the will to fight.

"Am I going to die?" Ericka Baker asked.

The stoically voiced question broke the eerie silence that immediately ensued after Dr. Goodfellow had informed her of the new complication the X-rays had uncovered. The woman's already ashen complexion seemed to grow just a shade grayer.

"No," Nika answered as the cardiologist searched for the right words that neither a.s.serted nor denied the woman's fears. She faced Mrs. Baker, deliberately avoiding any sort of eye contact with Dr. Goodfellow. She knew she was going out on a limb, but the woman needed to hear these words. "You're not going to die, you're going to fight," she told the noticeably frightened woman. "And just because there's a ma.s.s, doesn't automatically mean it's malignant. There's a very good chance that it's benign."

Ericka wanted rea.s.surance, but she was not a fool-she never had been. "I want to hear him say that," she retorted, jerking a thumb at Dr. Goodfellow.

This time Nika made eye contact with the other doctor, silently requesting that the man pick his words carefully and kindly.

"Dr. Pulaski is correct," he finally said. "Until we perform the biopsy, we won't know what we're dealing with. And," he allowed since the woman was obviously waiting for a word of encouragement, "there's a good chance that it's nothing."

"A lot of ruckus for 'nothing,' if you ask me," his patient commented with disgust.

Nika took the woman's thin hand in hers and gave it a gentle squeeze. "You're right, but it's just better to be safe than sorry, Mrs. Baker."

Leaving her hand in Nika's, Ericka looked at her cardiologist. "Could she be any more cliched?" she asked him.

Dr. Goodfellow laughed quietly, clearly amused by the question. "Give her time, Mrs. Baker. She probably will be," he predicted.

Ericka squared her bony shoulders, resigned to what was ahead of her. "So, when do we do it?" she asked, looking from Goodfellow to Nika. "When do we cut into me?"

"I'd like the opportunity to get your blood pressure down a little more first," he told her. "I'm going to authorize keeping you here for observation for a few days while I put you on this blood pressure medication." The cardiologist quickly scribbled the name and dosage instructions on the prescription pad he took out of his breast pocket. Tearing off the sheet, he tucked the pad back into his pocket. "I'll drop it off at the hospital pharmacy for you. We'll see if that doesn't solve the problem."

"The first problem," Mrs. Baker emphasized. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at the cardiologist. "And if it doesn't?"

"Then we'll try something else until we find something that works. There're lots of different medications out there," he a.s.sured her.

"And meanwhile," she countered grimly, "the cancer's spreading."

"If it's cancer," Nika interjected. "Remember, we don't know that it is," she insisted firmly.

But Nika's newest patient looked far from ready to hang on to the life preserver that was being tossed her way.

"Where did you find her, anyway?" she asked Dr. Goodfellow with visible annoyance. "On a cheerleading squad?"

"Might do you a little good to buy into that cheer, Ericka," the doctor pointed out gently. "The mind's a powerful weapon. Don't underestimate it."

"So maybe I'll just wish away the cancer," Ericka proposed sarcastically. It was obvious that she wasn't just angry about this news-she was tired of being under siege.

"There's no proof it's cancer yet," Nika quietly pointed out again.

Ericka sighed deeply and rolled her eyes, but even so, Nika thought she detected a glimmer of hope-and grat.i.tude. She was getting through to the woman, she thought, relieved.

The doctor looked at his watch. "I've got to be going, Mrs. Baker. I'll be by tonight to see how you're doing," he promised.

And with that, he left the room.

Mrs. Baker's eyes shifted to Nika, who was still in the room and gave every indication that she was not about to go anywhere just yet.

"Don't you have to be somewhere else, too?" the woman asked impatiently.

Nika drew the chair closer to Mrs. Baker's bed and sat down. "Actually, no."

Mrs. Baker eyed her suspiciously, clearly not buying what was just said. "They let everyone else in the old bones unit go home?"

"No, everyone in the Geriatrics Unit who was here yesterday is still here today," Nika replied patiently. "I'm off today."

Mrs. Baker looked at her as if she thought the young resident had lost her mind. "Then what the h.e.l.l are you doing here, breathing in all this stale air?"

"I wanted to find out what your test results were," Nika told her simply.

Mrs. Baker shifted in her bed, moving her thin frame closer to where Nika was sitting. "Why?"

Nika answered her as if it was really self-evident. "Because you're my patient and I'm interested."

Mrs. Baker was silent for a moment as her sharp blue eyes scrutinized her. "How old are you, girl?"

"Thirty." She expected the woman to challenge her, wanting to know how she could be a resident at that age, and Nika was prepared to tell her all about her accelerated course of studies.

But that wasn't what the woman latched on to. "Thirty? And this is the best you can do with your day off?" she shook her head in disbelief and disgust. "Girl, you've got to learn how to live a little."

Nika leaned forward and patted her. "Well, once we get you all better, Mrs. Baker, you can teach me," she told the woman with a gentle smile.

Again the blue eyes seemed to delve right into her as Mrs Baker leaned forward. "You're that sure I'm going to get better?"

"I'm that sure," Nika told her.

Please, G.o.d, make me right.

Nika was a firm believer in the good effects of positive thinking, but it didn't always come through a hundred percent of the time.

Ericka sighed and settled back in her bed. "Okay, but if you're wrong, I'm coming back to haunt you."

Nika laughed, delighted by the small display of humor. "It's a deal."

Nika remained in Mrs. Baker's room, talking and doing her best to divert her, until the woman drifted off to sleep. Slipping out, Nika eased the door closed, then turned around and found herself smack up against Cole, who was about to walk in.

Because the door was at her back, Nika had nowhere to retreat to and, for a moment, the hard contours of the detective's body hit against and registered with every part of hers. Reviving very vivid memories of her rescue the other day and summoning a distant, faint ache that pulsed through her body.

For a split second, her breath disappeared. When it returned, she had just enough to blurt out, "Oh, I'm sorry."

Sorrow and regret were the very last emotions that occurred to him. Given a choice, he would have remained exactly where he was, allowing the fleeting, pleasing contact to penetrate further into his consciousness. But for the sake of decorum and because the contact had snaked through to a place he distinctly wanted to remain dormant, he stepped back.

"My fault," he apologized a little stiffly. "I got an early start today," he heard himself explaining, which annoyed him because he made it a point never to have to explain himself. "So I thought I'd look in on my grandmother during my lunch break." He studied Nika closely, as if waiting to be lied to. "How is she?"

"She's sleeping right now," Nika told him, looking at the door.

He'd been a cop long enough to know an evasive answer when he heard one. His green eyes narrowed a little, still watching her intently. "And how is she when she's not sleeping?"

Nika had wanted to be there for Ericka Baker when the doctor had informed the woman about the ma.s.s that had shown up on her X-ray. But breaking that information to Mrs. Baker's only living relative was somehow a great deal harder. Harder than she'd imagined.

Still, she couldn't bring herself to just palm him off on Dr. Goodfellow. After all, the man had rescued her. That meant that she owed Detective Baker something more than just giving him the runaround.

Mentally crossing her fingers, hoping for the best, she said, "They found a ma.s.s in your grandmother's right breast."

His voice took on a deadly edge. "What kind of ma.s.s?"

She took a deep breath. "Hopefully, the benign kind."

He refused to allow himself to dwell on the possibilities if she was wrong. "So what's being done about this 'ma.s.s'?" he demanded.

As succinctly as possible, Nika explained what the cardiologist proposed to do-and then went on to tell him why it wasn't being done immediately and hoped that he would understand.

"How long is he going to wait?" Cole's voice was cold, as emotionless as his expression.

About to answer, she quickly stepped to one side as the orderly moved by with a bucket and mop. The stocky man was heading to another room and flashed a sheepish smile at her by way of an apology. He'd all but crashed the bucket into her.

"Not too long," she a.s.sured the detective. "Dr. Goodfellow thinks the medicine he's prescribed for her should take care of the problem in a day or so. It's pretty new on the market but it's had some stunning results-"

He dealt in facts. He needed to have facts in front of him to be prepared. "What happens if my grandmother doesn't respond? If her blood pressure stays high? Then what?"

Something told her that even though he'd asked, he really didn't want to hear the answer to that question. Because then he would have to face the possibility. "Why don't we wait and see first? My father used to say there was no point in buying trouble since you could get it for free, anyway."

He looked at her as if she'd just lapsed into a strange language. "What?"

"It loses a little in the translation," she admitted with a laugh. Since he continued to look unenlightened, she explained, "It's an old Polish saying."

Her last name was st.i.tched over the breast pocket of her lab coat. He'd forgotten it. Reading it now, Cole nodded. "Right."

Digging into her pocket, she came up with one card, slightly bent. She held it out to him. "If you have any more questions about your grandmother's condition, or just want to talk, that's my cell number," she told him. She smiled up at him, still holding out the card. "Two ears, no waiting."

With an absent nod, he took the card and pocketed it. "Thanks."

The single word hung in the air as Cole went into his grandmother's room and shut the door behind him.

It was time, she thought, for her to get going. After all, she wasn't really supposed to be here today and since it was her day off, she should try to catch up on a few things she'd been letting go lately. Who knew, the way things were going, when her next day off was going to be?

But before she left, she had one more place to go. She wanted to pay a quick visit to the hospital's morgue to see if anyone had claimed the late Sergeant Kelly's remains.

Making her way through the bas.e.m.e.nt, as she drew near the morgue, she was utterly surprised to catch sight of her uncle.

"Uncle Josef!" she called. When he stopped walking, she quickened her pace to catch up to him. "What are you doing here? Are you lost? You couldn't be here for the food," she teased since the cafeteria was also located in the bas.e.m.e.nt. "Aunt Magda would never forgive you."

"No, I have come here for a more sad reason than eating," he told her. "I come to see if what I am hearing is true." He paused for a moment before saying heavily, "It is."

"What's wrong?" Instantly, she thought of her cousins-and in the next moment, her sisters. Had he come here, looking for her to tell her something? "Has it something to do with the family?" she asked him, almost afraid of the answer because of the expression on his face.

"Yes," he answered. Then, seeing the concern on her face, he added, "But only mine."