An Accidental Life by Pamela Binnings Ewen Page B

change,” she said.
    Rebecca turned away. “That’s just what I’m afraid of.”

11
    Peter spent the morning in several hearings, but was able to reschedule most for the following week when he’d be back from the trip. Anything active and moving toward the head of the line he sent on to some of the junior ADAs to handle in the interim.
    He was reviewing files, closing the ones to be sent to archives, when Mac showed up. He stood in the doorway, looking at Peter. “Will I be able to get in touch with you over the weekend if anything comes up in the Chasson case?”
    “Molly has phone and fax numbers for the hotel. Any luck finding that second nurse?” He set down the file he’d been reading. “The one Glory Lynn says she saw in the delivery room after the baby was born?”
    “Clara Sonsten. She’s quit, no longer employed. Got another job. There’s a talkative little receptionist at the clinic though.” He stuck his hands in his pants pockets. “Girl named Melanie Wright. Says she doesn’t know where Clara might have gone and wouldn’t give out her address. But I’ll find her.”
    “Wonder what happened there.”
    “Could be interesting. At least this might make it easier for her to talk. And get this, Eileen Broussard and Charles Vicari are married, so the receptionist says. I didn’t even think to check those records, but that means we just lost one witness who was in the room.”
    “Sure. She’ll hide behind the privilege. Let’s think about that. She could be an accessory; maybe we could work out a deal.” Peter rolled his lips together, thinking this over
    “What’s the receptionist say about her?”
    Mac tilted his head. “That bird sounds a little strange. She’s a cold one, Melanie says. Came down from Chicago about six months ago, same time Charles Vicari arrived. They both worked at New Hope Hospital up there. New Hope’s a private hospital. She thinks they haven’t been married all that long. Thinks they only got hitched a few months ago.”
    “Bad luck. Did you call the hospital?”
    “Talked to a couple people up there. But you know how that goes. You have to have a source in a hospital; they’re tighter than clams with employee and health information.”
    Mac shrugged and strolled into the office. Stood at the window, arms hooked behind his back, looking out for a moment. He turned, facing Peter. “I’m gonna have to go up there to get anything done. Spent the morning on the phone while they switched me from one office to another. They’ll give you the dates of employment, but not much else.”
    “You think the receptionist, this Melanie Wright, knows anything?”
    “She might. She’s a talker, too.”
    “Good.”
    Peter leaned on his elbows and massaged his temples and forehead. “This case is keeping me awake at night.” He wouldn’t have confided this to anyone but Mac. “That photo of the baby in the towel in a freezer. I can’t shake it.”
    He dropped his hand on the desk before him and straightened. “It’s hard to imagine what could have happened. Glory Lynn Chasson says she hears that infant cry, and then it disappears. The next time anyone sees it is in a freezer.” He clamped his hands behind his head and looked off, past Mac and through the window. A thin layer of dust coated the glass, making the day and the scene on the river look slightly hazy.
    Mac shook his head. “You sure you want this case on your back, Counselor? It’s not too late to get it into the system.”
    Peter’s eyes flicked back to Mac. “You bet I want this case. I’m going to find out what happened here. I want to know if the baby was alive, and if it was, whether that doctor, Charles Vicari, intentionally let it die.”
    “And why,” Mac added in a laconic tone.
    Peter nodded. “And why.”

    Alice Jean Hamilton, Dr. Matlock’s nurse, had had a long day. She slipped off her shoes, leaving them in the usual place near the front door of the living room, and walked in