Part Twelve: The Room at St. Ambrose

The call came on a Thursday evening in August.

Vania Costache had worked emergency nursing at St.

Ambrose for fourteen years and had known Maya since they were both twenty-six, from a period when Maya’s pharmacy filled that hospital’s outpatient discharges and the two of them ate lunch on the same loading dock four days a week.

She had been trying to find Maya since April.

She had eventually found a lawyer’s name on a court filing, and had called Priya Raghunathan’s office eleven times.