“She’s carrying my baby.”

The heavy steel doors slid closed between us, and the car started its fast plunge into the dark.

The elevator dropped forty-three floors to the underground garage, where snow was blowing in through the concrete entrance ramp.

My driver had the sedan running near the exit lane before Paige got to the passenger door.

We made the eleven blocks to Wayne County General in nine minutes, the heavy tires sliding through four inches of wet slush on Woodward Avenue.

The emergency entrance smelled of floor disinfectant and lukewarm coffee in paper cups.