Crossing the lobby, Jack spotted Bud Kazminski coming toward him. He looked exhausted and even more disheveled than usual. With no improvement in his limp, he hobbled up and greeted Jack with a fatigued expression and a hangdog shake of the hand.
“Go up without me. I’ll meet you up there. We have plenty of time before the operating room calls for Tess,” he told Mike, who continued toward the elevators.
Kaz said, “I don’t know if you heard: Mia Kleinfield died a few hours ago. She was admitted the day before Sherry. They managed to save the baby. She was a nurse on the dialysis unit. Everybody’s taking it pretty hard.” Kaz looked away for a few seconds and then added, “Sinclair already called my son-in-law this morning. He’s pushing David pretty hard to start treatment tomorrow. To build his case, he’s telling everybody Mike Ryan had already agreed, which kind of makes your best friend the poster boy for Vitracide. Anyway, David called me and we had a long talk about it. I think we’re going to give Sinclair the go-ahead.”
“A lot of physicians across the country agree with Dr. Sinclair that antiviral medication’s the way to go.”
“I’m sure they do—but, obviously, you’re not one of them,” Kaz said, with a dubious half smile. “Is it Sinclair you don’t trust or are you just opposed to using Vitracide because you don’t think it will work and it’s nasty as hell?” He held up his hand and after a protracted sigh, added, “You don’t have to answer that. You know, Doc, I’ve spent the better part of my adult life interviewing all kinds of people. The hard part isn’t dragging information out of them—it’s trying to figure out how much of it’s the truth.” Jack didn’t comment on Kaz’s observation. He got the feeling he was fishing, trying to find out what Jack thought of Sinclair. “I’d love to know what you really think about our decision to treat Sherry with Vitracide.”
“I think I told you.”
“The other thing I’ve learned as a reporter is to recognize hedging when I hear it.” With a mixture of gloom and hopelessness on his face, Kaz sluggishly raised his eyes. “I’ve loved three women in my life, Dr. Wyatt: my wife and my two daughters. Sherry and I have always been close but Lisa hasn’t spoken to me in years. I guess in her eyes, I made some mistakes she can’t forgive me for. She and Sherry have stayed close. Lisa visits almost every day, but only after her husband makes sure I’m not around. Do you know what it’s like to have twin daughters and only one of them cares to speak with you?”
Jack felt his breath catch. “I don’t recall you mentioning Sherry was a twin. Are they identical?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you sure?” Jack asked in a voice rising in intensity.
“Of course I’m sure. Why? What difference does it make?”
“Does Lisa have any children?”
“Two, and one on the way.”
“How far along is she?”
“About seven months,” Kaz answered.
“But she doesn’t have GNS.”
“Of course not. I think I would have told you that.”
“Has Lisa been healthy her whole life?”
“Neither of the girls has ever been seriously ill.”
Jack renewed his question. “No major illnesses or surgeries?”
“One of them had their tonsils out as a kid,” Kaz answered as he let out a slow breath. “I’m pretty sure it was Lisa. She was about six at the time. I remember her eating ice cream nonstop for three days.”
“I should get going,” he said. “I’ll stop in and see Sherry in a couple of hours.”
Jack shoved his hands in the front pockets of his chinos and walked slowly toward the elevators. Before meeting Mike, he decided to stop in the medical library.
Being a twin: At least now he knew why Sherry was a chimera. He assumed Lisa was as well. But what had him reeling was a simple question. Why had Sherry contracted GNS and Lisa hadn’t?