It was just after eight in the morning when Abby pulled up in front. The previous evening she had succeeded in convincing an operator that there was a medical emergency that required her to speak with Ezra Black in Feather Falls. The tycoon had spoken with her, although he was clearly annoyed with her ploy. “My daughter is in Europe, my wife is here with me, and my son is dead, Dr. Dolan,” he said. “There is no medical emergency that could possibly be of interest to me. So state the business that is so important you had to abuse your privilege as a physician. If I sense you have done so to request money from me in any form, I shall hang up, and you can expect to hear from the state medical board first thing in the morning.” In spite of herself Abby felt intimidated talking to the man whose face she had seen on the cover of Time, and whose reputation as a maker and breaker of people was universal. “I want to talk about your son.” “Go on.” “I would prefer to speak with you in person, Mr.
