"I can understand your disquiet," he said, his eyes dimming even more, "but I'd really hoped we could get started today. I should be free in an hour or so and we can—"
"I've given the blood sample you wanted, but I've just had the fright of my life. I want to go up and see Mom again and then I want a day to recharge."
Get hold of Stone, she was thinking, and then try to find Kristen. Something feels very non‑kosher here.
"Just be aware," he went on, "that this procedure can't wait forever. I told you that we have less than three weeks left. At the end of the month, the clinical trials will be completed and this facility could be temporarily closed because of corporate restructuring."
What is he talking about, "corporate restructuring"? You 're pressuring me again, she thought. I really don't like that.
"It can wait for a day."
"All right. If you must. But that's it. We have to start tomorrow. Seriously." He came back and reached and took her hand. "This means a lot to me, Alexa. I really want to help you. And I truly think we can."
With that, he turned and walked into the OR.
She stood watching for a moment, and when he was definitely gone, she took the small black leather volume out of her waistband.
On a hunch she opened it to the first page and... sure enough, there it was, penciled in down one side: Kristy 555‑ 1224. No last name and no address.