woman. The alarm that initiated the episode was turned off. The woman picked up a phone and dialed.
“We have another potential donor,” she said. “North Carolina.”
At that moment, the laser printer began printing yet again, and again the alarm sounded for a brief moment.
“Did you hear that?” the woman asked. “What a coincidence. We’re getting another, as we speak.” She paused, waiting for the printer. “Patricia Southerland, age forty-seven, San Jose General, San Jose, California, breast biopsy, March 14. Also sounds good. What do you think?”
There was a pause before she spoke again: “I know the team’s out. But there’s time. Trust me. This is my department.”
The woman hung up. Sean and Janet heard her tear off the sheet that had just printed. Then the woman turned and left.
For a few minutes neither Sean nor Janet spoke.
“What the hell did she mean, a potential donor?” Sean whispered at last.
“I don’t know and I don’t care,” Janet whispered back. “I want out of here.”
“Donor?” Sean murmured. “That sounds creepy to me. What do we have here? A clearinghouse for body parts? Reminds me of a movie I saw once. I tell you, this place is nuts.”
“Is she gone?” Janet asked.
“I’ll check,” Sean said. Slowly he backed out from their hiding place, then peeked over the countertop. The room was empty. “She seems to be gone,” Sean said. “I wonder why she ignored the copy machine.”
Janet backed out and gingerly raised her head. She scanned the room as well.
“Coming in, the computer alarm must have shielded the sound,” Sean said. “But going out, she had to have heard it.”
“Maybe she was too preoccupied,” Janet offered.
Sean nodded. “I think you’re probably right.”
The computer screen that had been flashing the innumerable nine-digit numbers suddenly went blank.
“The program seems to be over,” Sean said.
“Let’s get away from here,” Janet said, her voice quavering.
They ventured out into the room. The copy machine had finished the latest stack of charts and was silent.
“Now we know why she didn’t hear it,” Sean said, going up to the machine and checking it. He loaded the last of the charts.
“I want out of here!” Janet said.
“Not until I have my charts,” Sean said. He pushed the copy button and the copier roared to life. Then he began removing the originals and the copies already done, stapling the copies and reassembling the charts.
At first, Janet watched, terrified that any moment the same woman would reappear. But after she recognized the faster they were finished, the sooner they would leave, she pitched in. With no further interruptions they had all the charts copied and stapled in short order.
Returning to the small elevator, Sean discovered that it was possible to push the button with the door ajar. Then, when the door was closed, the dumbwaiter operated. “Now I don’t have to worry about you forgetting to bring me down,” he said teasingly.
“I’m in no mood for humor,” Janet remarked as she climbed into the hoist. She held out her arms to take as many charts and copies as possible.
Repeating the procedure that had brought them up to the seventh floor, they returned the charts to the vault. To Janet’s chagrin, Sean insisted they take the time to return the charts to their original locations. With that accomplished, they carried the chart copies to the animal room where Sean hid them beneath the cages of his mice.
“I should inject these guys,” Sean said, “but to tell you the truth, I don’t much feel like it.”
Janet was pleased to leave but didn’t start to relax until they were driving out of the parking lot.
“That has to have been one of the worst experiences of my life,” she said as they traversed Little Havana. “I can’t believe that you stayed so calm.”
“My heart rate was up,” Sean admitted. “But it went smoothly except for that little episode in the computer room. And now that it’s over, wasn’t it exciting? Just a little?”
“No!” Janet said emphatically.
They drove in silence until Sean spoke again: “I still can’t figure out what that computer was doing. And I can’t figure out what it has to do with organ donation. They certainly don’t use organs from deceased cancer patients. It’s too risky in relation to transplanting the cancer as well as the organ. Any ideas?”
“I can’t think about anything at this point,” Janet said.
They pulled into the Forbes residence.
“Geez, look at that old Caddy convertible,” Sean said. “What a boat. Barry Dunhegan had one just like it when I was a kid, except his was pink. He was a bookmaker and all us kids thought he was cool.”
Janet cast a cursory glance at the finned monster parked within the shadow of an exotic tree. She marveled how Sean could go through such a wrenching experience, then think about cars.
Sean pulled to a stop and yanked on the emergency brake. They got out of the car and entered the building in silence. Sean was thinking about how nice it would be to spend the night with Janet. He couldn’t blame the security guard for ogling her. As Sean climbed the stairs behind Janet, he was reminded how fabulous her legs were.
As they came abreast of his door he reached out and drew her to him, enveloping her in his arms. For a moment they merely hugged.
“What about staying together tonight?” Sean forced himself to ask. His voice was hesitant; he feared rejection. Janet didn’t answer immediately, and the longer she delayed, the more optimistic he became. Finally he used his left hand to take out his keys.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” she said.
“Come on,” Sean urged. He could smell her fragrance from having held her close.
“No!” Janet said with finality after another pause. Although she’d been wavering, she’d made a decision. “I know it would be nice, and I could use the sense of security after this evening, but we have to talk first.”
Sean rolled his eyes in frustration. She could be so impossibly stubborn. “Okay,” he said petulantly, trying another tack. “Have it your way.” He let go of her, opened his door, and stepped inside. Before shutting the door, he glanced at her face. What he wanted to see was sudden concern that he was miffed. Instead he saw irritation. Janet turned and walked away.
After closing his door, Sean felt guilty. He went to his slider, opened it, and stepped out on the balcony. A few doors down he saw Janet’s light in her living room go on. Sean hesitated, not sure what to do.
“MEN,” JANET said aloud with ire and exasperation. She hesitated inside her door, going over the conversation outside Sean’s door. There was no reason for him to get angry with her. Hadn’t she gone along with his risky plan? Didn’t she generally defer to his wishes? Why couldn’t he ever even try to understand hers?
Knowing that nothing would be solved that evening, Janet walked into the bedroom and turned on the light. Although she would later remember it, it didn’t completely register that her bathroom door was closed. When Janet was by herself she never closed doors. It had been a habit developed as a child.
Pulling off her tank top and unhooking her bra, Janet tossed them on the armchair by the bed. She undid the clip on the top of her head and shook her hair free. She felt exhausted, irritable, and as one of her roommates at college used to say, fried. Picking up the hair dryer she’d tossed on her bed in haste that morning, Janet opened the bathroom and entered. The moment she turned on the light, she became aware of a hulking presence to her left. Reacting instinctively, Janet’s hand shot out as if to fend off the intruder.
A scream started in Janet’s throat but was stalled before it could get out by the hideousness of the image that confronted her. A man was in her bathroom dressed in baggy dark clothes. A knotted segment of nylon stocking had been drawn over his head so that his features were grotesquely compressed. At shoulder height he clutched a butcher’s knife menacingly.
For an instant, neither of them moved. Janet quiveringly aimed the ineffectual hair dryer at the ghoulish face
