The Last Day

SIXTY-FIVE

“Leslie, you shouldn't have,” Ward said, taking the chilled bottle from her.

“Don't be silly. You guys have to celebrate.”

He closed the door and led Leslie back to the den where Natasha was sitting on the couch. A single candle in a holder set in the fireplace offered the sole illumination for the large room.

“Why are all the lights off in here?” Leslie asked. “Looks like you're having a seance. I figured you'd be dancing.”

“Todd told us to keep the lights off so anybody outside would think we were sleeping.”

“Leslie brought champagne,” Ward said. “I'll get some glasses.”

“That was thoughtful of you,” Natasha said, crossing to kiss Leslie on the cheek.

“It's French,” Leslie said, smiling. “That makes it real champagne.”

“Todd's on his way.” Ward said. “He should be here any time now. We think the man who was in the hole out there could be a man who blames Natasha for his son's death.”

Natasha told Leslie about her Google search that found Gizmo, and the story about the child's death.

“Of course you didn't, but if he thinks you murdered his child, that's what matters. Some medical review board says you didn't screw up and kill the boy, but maybe he believes it was a cover- up. Even if a panel of doctors decided you didn't kill his son, everybody thinks doctors cover up for each other the way cops do.”

“That wasn't the case,” Natasha said. “I operated to save his life. I was totally focused. It's what we couldn't have known that killed him. We could have saved him if there had been some way to know about that damage. He was hit by a car. There was a lot going on, besides the ruptured kidney that I removed, and his spleen… I stabilized him. But there was a weakened place in his aorta that blew after surgery. The wall split open and by the time we had him back in the OR, he… I did everything I could.”

“You aren't a heart surgeon, are you?” Leslie said.

“I'm not, but there was no time to get one in, and one of the best testified that nobody could have saved the child given the circumstances. The rip was six or seven centimeters long-”

“There's something else. Something strange,” Ward interrupted. “A young man named Howard Lindley was driving the car that ran over the boy.”

“Who is Howard Lindley?” Leslie asked. “Wasn't he the boy who got high and murdered three of his friends?”

“Yes,” Natasha said. “Same young man.”

“Howard Lindley's father is a well- connected attorney, and Howard got probation for that hit-and- run, so what if Gizmo's father wasn't happy about that and set him up by killing his friends? What if he was watching Howard like he's been watching us, and made it look like Howard snapped and killed his friends? Howard is in prison for murder. He murdered his friends in a blind rage, no recollection of any of it. It's possible, isn't it? That he was set up? The courts failed to punish Gismano's son's killer. For any man that's got to be hard to handle.”

“It's scary,” Leslie said.

“Gizmo's father was there at the hospital. Where was his mother?” Ward asked.

Natasha thought for a moment and said, “I don't know.”

“You never talked to her?” Leslie asked.

“No. I suppose someone from the hospital staff dealt with her and her husband. After security told me he'd been arrested, I went back to other surgeries I had scheduled.”

Natasha started crying. “If I could have saved him, I would have done whatever it would have taken. All I can tell you is I did the best I could. It's how I do things.”