I entered Cordelia’s office, aware of o’Connor’s eyes on my back. I paced as I waited for her, unable to be still. About a minute later, she entered.

“This had better be good,” she said, standing in the doorway with her arms crossed.

Not good, not good at all, I wanted to say. Instead, I motioned her in, shutting the door behind her.

“Sit down,” I said, trying to think how to break it to her.

“I’m in a hurry.”

“Please.”

She sat, her arms still crossed. I sat opposite her.

“Two things,” I started. “First…I was way out of line earlier. I’m very sorry. I…I’m sorry.”

“Okay. I accept your apology. But I have patients waiting.”

“And second…you’re not going to like this.”

“Why? Are you sleeping with Alex?” she cut in.

“Oh, God, no,” I said, shaking my head. “I don’t guess there is any easy way to tell you this.” I plunged on, “They found another body, apparently a patient here. You’re about to be arrested for murder. O’Connor is outside waiting for you now.”

She didn’t say anything for a minute, didn’t move.

“I…guess my patients will have to wait, then, won’t they?” she said slowly. She looked at her desk, in stunned bewilderment, as if she had no idea what to do now. I don’t guess they teach you how to be arrested for murder. “Who was it?” she suddenly asked.

“Faye Zimmer,” I replied. “Her file was—”

“Oh, my God, no. I just saw her on Wednesday.”

“Call your lawyer. Call now,” I said as she looked at me, to get her to take action in the few moments we had.

“Yes…yes, you’re right,” she replied, sitting forward. She started looking for the number.

“I’ll get a hold of Danny and…Joanne.”

She didn’t even notice my stumbling over Joanne’s name. “And we’ll get—”

There was a knocking on her door. Then it opened and O’Connor appeared.

“I know why you’re here,” Cordelia said to him.

He stepped into her office. I got up and closed the door. No sense putting on a show.

“Miss Knight has explained the situation?” O’Connor asked.

“Yes, Micky has.”

“I’m placing you under arrest, Dr. James. You have the right to remain silent…” O’Connor recited the list for her.

Cordelia sat motionless, listening to him, staring straight ahead until he finished. Then for a brief second in the silence, she looked at me, her eyes a wide, troubled blue. She stood. As she did, she moved her Rolodex around so I could see it, almost as if straightening her desk. It was open to one particular card. Cordelia took off her white jacket, hanging it up as if she were only going home for the day.

“I don’t guess…ask Alex to feed Rook, would you?” she said to me. “Alex has keys and tell Bernie—”

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it,” I answered. Then I added, “Do you have to do that?” as O’Connor pulled out a pair of handcuffs.

“Standard procedure,” he replied.

“She’s not going anywhere,” I told him.

“I’ll wait until we’re in the parking lot,” he said, putting the cuffs back in his pocket. “For you, Miss Knight. Shall we, Dr. James?”

I walked out first, followed by Cordelia, then o’Connor. I wanted to protect her, at least deflect the staring gazes.

Bernie shot me a glance as we went by, but I returned a curt nod to her questioning look. Several other men seated in the waiting room got up and went with us. O’Connor’s reinforcements.

When we got out of the building, O’Connor stopped and pulled out the handcuffs.

Cordelia looked again at me.

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of…what I can,” I said to her. “Ask to see your lawyer. Get your legal protection in place.”

“Thanks, Micky,” she replied.

O’Connor put the cuffs on her. She still looked at me, her only friend in this crowd. They led her away. I didn’t follow. I could do more good by going back in the building and getting on the phone. I spun around and reentered, not waiting to watch them load her into the police car.

“Micky?” Bernie questioned as I strode back into the office.

“Cancel the rest of Cordelia’s patients,” I told her.

“What will I tell them?” she asked, her voice unsteady.

“That…that Dr. James had been unexpectedly called away.”

“Okay.” Bernie nodded.

I headed for Cordelia’s office. The first number I called was the one from the Rolodex, Elana Dreyfuss, Esquire. The police had to let her call a lawyer, but they didn’t have to do it immediately.

I told Ms. Dreyfuss who I was and why I was calling.

Her response, in a very professional and erudite voice, was “Shit.” Then she asked where they had taken Cordelia and listened intently as I gave her the details. She told me she was on her way and hung up. Cordelia had a good lawyer.

Then I dialed Danny’s number.

“D.A.’s office, Danielle Clayton speaking,” she answered.

“They’ve arrested Cordelia,” I stated without preamble.

“What?” she exclaimed. Then added the obligatory “Shit.”

I filled her in on the details, the discovery of the latest body. Danny told me she’d make some phone calls and let me know what she found out. We hung up without bothering to say good-bye. It didn’t seem important.

Elly knocked and entered, followed by Bernie and a woman introduced as Jane Bowen, one of the two part-time doctors at the clinic.

“What’s going on?” Elly asked.

I told them. “Someone needs to say ‘shit,’” I finished.

“This is shit,” Bowen supplied. “I’ll take any you can’t cancel,” she said to Bernie. “Who’s on for tomorrow morning? Aaron or Cordelia? I’d prefer not to take it, but I will, if he can’t,” she added.

“God, my mind’s gone blank,” Bernie fumbled.

“I think it’s Dr. Goldstein,” Elly said. “Someone should call him in any event.”

“I’ll call,” Bernie recovered.

“Transfer him to me when you’re done. We’ll work out something,” Bowen instructed. “Boy, do I want a cigarette. Too bad I gave up smoking,” she said as she exited.

“To the telephone,” Bernie followed her down the hallway.

“I’ve called Danny,” I told Elly.

“Good,” she nodded.

“And Cordelia’s lawyer.”

“Better.”

“And I’m about to call Joanne.”

She nodded, then said, “This is troubling. Someone killed all these women.”

“Not Cordelia,” I interjected.

“I know. But whoever did it has gone to a lot of trouble to make it look like she did. Tell me if Danny or Joanne find out anything,” she added as she slipped out the door.

I called Joanne. She didn’t say “shit.”

“Oh, fuck” was her expletive of choice. Then, “I’ll get back to you.”

“Joanne…” I stopped her. “I ran into Alex.”

“I know. She called earlier.”

“Oh.”

“I’ll talk to you later. Okay?”

I heard voices and a general hubbub in the background. Joanne sounded busy.

“Okay. Bye.” We hung up.

Then I sat. And waited. And hated it.

Nurse Peterson shyly stuck her head into the doorway.

“Miss Knight?” she said.

“Yes?” I motioned her in.

“Has Dr. James really been arrested?”

“Yes, she has.”

“So, she did kill those poor young women,” she said in a soft undertone.

“No, she didn’t,” I countered. “Being arrested and being guilty aren’t the same thing.”

“Oh.” Nurse Peterson blushed at my outburst. Then she said, “Do you think God is punishing those women for having abortions?”

I looked at her, trying to guess if her question was on the level. And what level that might be. “I think those women were murdered. By another person. Not God.”

“But do you think,” she said, troubled, “that abortion is wrong?”

“I think abortion is very complicated. Too complex for me to make the decision for anyone other than myself.”

“Have you ever…aborted a child?”

“Me?” I said, taken aback at the question. “No, of course not,” I replied.

“So you personally disagree?” she asked, seeking, it seemed, validation.

“It’s never come up. That’s one of the advantages of being a lesbian.”

“You’re…oh,” she said, blushing again.

Evidently my sexuality was news to her. I suddenly wondered what had made her so nervous when I first questioned her, if it wasn’t my lesbianism.

“But,” I continued, “if I were raped and impregnated, I would probably have an abortion.” I would most emphatically have an abortion, but I didn’t see the need to rub her face in it.

“I’m trying to sort out some things for myself,” she said. “I…Do you think it was God’s intention that those women were to die? A punishment they deserved?”

“Why would He bother?”

“What do you mean?”

“Those who sin spend an eternity in hell, right?” She nodded. “How long is eternity?” I asked.

“How… One can’t know that,” she replied. “Forever.”

“And the average human life span? Seventy or so years?”

“About that, yes.”

“With an eternity in which to punish us, why does God need to bother with the few years we have here? Since death is inevitable, how much of a punishment can it be? If confession and repentance are really possible, why take that away to give a punishment that is inevitable? To send the guilty to hell fifty years early? What’s fifty years to eternity?”

Nurse Peterson didn’t immediately reply. She sat slowly down.

“That is something to think about,” she finally replied. “It is sad that they died, then, is it not?”

“Yes, it’s sad. And nothing, no matter what their supposed sin, that they could have deserved.”

“Thank you,” she said. “I’ve always been taught that abortion is wrong. Murder. How do you justify it? For yourself?”

Again I got the feeling that she really wanted to know, that she was searching for an answer. “There are many kinds of murder. Dreams and hopes can be killed, too. To lose the chance to live the life you want is, to me, a walking murder. Which can you live with? I can’t choose for another person.”

“I’m sorry, I’m taking up a lot of your time,” she said. “You must have better things to do than answer my questions.”

“No, I’m just sitting here waiting for the phone to ring. Besides, I don’t think I’m answering your questions. I’m only giving you my answers.”

“Yes, you’re right.” Then she paused. I thought she was going to get up and leave, but she didn’t. She looked at me, took a deep breath, and said, “My sister, my younger sister…had an abortion. She asked me to go with her…I refused.” She stopped and fumbled with a Kleenex.