In this exhilarating new medical mystery-thriller by Robin Cook, fan favorites Jack and Laurie are lured into the dark underbelly of hospital dangers when an internist is murdered. Colleagues-turned-spouses Dr. Laurie Montgomery and Dr. Jack Stapleton already have their plates full between demanding forensic pathology work and family pressures. The last thing they need is the sudden death of a colleague. Yet when Laurie’s apparently vital and healthy longtime friend Dr. Sue Passero dies mysteriously in the hopsital parking garage, an autopsy is required, and it falls uncomfortably under Laurie’s purview as the chief medical examiner. So when Laurie asks Jack to take special care with the case, he can hardly refuse. With his curiosity sparked by an inconclusive autopsy, the indefatigable Jack is compelled to resolve the case at hand, and sets out to investigate on-site at Manhattan Memorial Hospital, even though it means blatantly defying the Office of Chief Medical Examiner’s rules. What started out as an inquiry into Sue’s tragic passing soon turns into a deadly and dangerous chess game between Jack and the clever and deranged killer, who might just administer another lethal blow if Jack isn’t careful. “Captivating….Fans of medical thrillers will love this one.” — San Francisco Book Review Robin Cook, MD, is the author of forty books and is credited with popularizing the medical thriller with his groundbreaking and wildly successful 1977 novel, Coma . His most recent bestsellers include Viral , Genesis , Pandemic , and Charlatans . Cook divides his time among Florida, New Hampshire, and Massachusetts. CHAPTER 1 Tuesday, December 7, 6:45 a.m. Without making it obvious, Dr. Jack Stapleton put muscle into the mild hill climb on West Drive in Central Park where it bordered the reservoir. It had given him a bit of satisfaction to overtake and pass a small, tight covey of younger, serious cyclists on their imported road bikes, all of them clad in skintight, fancy duds emblazoned with all sorts of European product endorsements and wearing clip-in, expensive bike shoes. He, of course, was on his relatively new US-made Trek bike that was every bit as fancy as the others, but his dress was far different. He was wearing his usual brown, wide-wale corduroy jacket, blue jeans, and an indigo chambray shirt with a dark green knit tie. Instead of bike shoes he had on Nike kicks. His only concession to the forty-five-degree weather were gloves and a scarf. As he had done practically every morning since he had arrived in New York City to begin his new life and second medical career as a New York City medical examiner at the Office of Chief Medical Examiner, or OCME, Jack was using his bike to commute from his home on the Upper West Side down to the east side of the city. It was a far different mode of transportation than when he'd been a conservative, midwestern ophthalmologist. Back then he drove a Mercedes to his office every day, attired in a glen plaid suit with carefully polished shoes. The current pacesetter of the group of well-heeled cyclists responded just as Jack envisioned. It would have been demoralizing to have a middle-aged, possibly blue-collar individual pass them, so he stood up and began a chase. There was no way for the cyclist to know that Jack probably rode his bike more often than they did. Nor did they have any idea that Jack also played demanding pickup basketball on a near-daily basis, weather permitting, and was accordingly in tip-top physical shape. The rest of the cyclists followed the lead of the pacesetter, standing up and pumping furiously. Meanwhile, without making it obvious by remaining sitting, Jack increased his own effort such that his lead slightly increased despite the more obvious efforts of the pursuing bicyclists. Several minutes later, as Jack crested the hill and began his descent, he stopped pedaling and allowed himself to coast, which permitted the clot of pursuers to finally catch and overtake him to regain their sportive dignity. Under more normal circumstances Jack would have continued the impromptu race all the way to the south end of the park, where he'd exit on his way to work. But on this particular morning, his attention switched from aggravating the "serious" cyclists to musing about the Brooks School that he was passing to his right on Central Park West. It was where his son, JJ, was enrolled in the fifth grade. As if it were yesterday and with understandable chagrin, Jack could remember his disastrous visit there two years earlier, when Laurie, his wife, asked him to go to talk to the school authorities in her stead about their concern that JJ needed to take Adderall for ADHD after JJ had gotten into a few tussles on the playground. What made Jack an inappropriate substitute for Laurie was that he was absolutely convinced there was nothing atypical with JJ. Combining that reality with his belief in some kind of conspiracy between the pharmaceutical