Free Lethal Remedy by Richard Mabry Page A

desperate. Not yet.

Sara shivered, even though the house was warm, and hurried into the kitchen. She spread a stack of crackers with peanut butter, poured a glass of milk, and eased into her accustomed chair in front of the TV. Maybe there'd be something on that would help her relax.

Sara munched on a cracker and wondered why she'd dreamed about being in bed with Jack. After the baby died, she'd gone out of her way to avoid him, even made an effort to exclude him from her dreams. Why had she let him back in now? Was it because of what he'd said? "I think we had something really good. . . . Maybe we can get it back."

Then again, Jack seemed different today, more interested in what she said. He actually remembered the name of their mutual patient, asked how Chelsea was doing. Could he have changed? Was it even possible for Jack Ingersoll to change? And was she willing to take that chance?

As she pondered the question, Sara flashed on the end of her meeting with Jack. What was it he said? He was depressed over "the death of our son." Our son! He had a name, Jack. Actually, he had your name: Jack Jr. But you just called him "our son."

What was it the Bible said? "Can the leopard change his spots?" No, and apparently neither could Jack Ingersoll.

 

 

Dr. John Ramsey looked for what seemed like the hundredth time at the file folder on his kitchen table. The label read "Malpractice Insurance." A few days ago, he'd rescued it from one of the boxes of files he'd brought home from his office and shoved into a corner of his garage. He'd blown the dust offit and put it on the table, but today he decided it was time to open the folder and face what was inside.

He took one last sip of cold coffee, picked up the phone, and dialed the number he'd printed with a Sharpie on the cover of the folder.

"Insurance office."

"This is Dr. John Ramsey. I need to speak with Mr. Alexander about my malpractice insurance."

"Is this about a claim?" The woman's voice was flat, almost bored. She must have these conversations every day, but to John this was a new, and rather scary, situation.

"It's about a possible claim. I need some information. That's why I need to speak with Mr. Alexander."

"May I have your policy number?"

John figured he might as well talk to a wall. "I've canceled my original policy, but I have tail coverage. And I need to ask Mr. Alexander a question about that policy."

Nothing seemed to faze this woman. "And what is that policy number?"

After giving her the number of his policy and waiting through a series of clicks, followed by three minutes of what passed for soft rock music on hold, John heard a familiar voice.

"Dr. Ramsey, I hope you're enjoying retirement."

"Not as much as I was before I began talking with your secretary." John reined in his desire to vent. No benefit there. "I have sort of an unusual question."

Alexander listened without comment as John explained his visit to the clinic at the medical center and the part he'd played in the scenario that followed. "Now I'm hearing that her family may file suit against everyone involved. And I guess my question is whether I'm covered."

The silence on the other end of the line made John wince. What he was hoping for was a quick, "Of course." Instead, he heard only the rattling of paper.

"Are you there?" John asked.

"Yes, I'm looking through your contract. Of course, you canceled your original malpractice insurance when you retired, so that wasn't in force when this incident occurred. However, you bought tail coverage to insure you against claims brought after that original policy ended. But this is a new incident, so in that case . . . Hmmm. Tell you what. I don't want to say anything until I run all this by one of our attorneys. Can I get back to you?"

John gave Alexander his phone number and hung up with a deep sense of foreboding. If the agent had to do that much research, there was a good chance that his position in malpractice litigation arising from the