Kelsey and Carson are back at the table and both start to ask what’s going on, but I’m too busy snatching my phone and heading for the door so I can make a phone call.The chilly wind hits me right in the face, but Justin picks up after only half a ring. “Please tell me you have a diagnosis, because my interns have been on the case for thirty-six hours straight and they’re starting to smell—even the hot one. And one just broke down crying and I had to provide comfort.”“Gross,” I say, and then add, “It’s Kawasaki—”“Are you drunk? We’ve already treated her for—”“Would you shut the hell up and let me finish!” I exhale and pace in a straight line along a crack in the sidewalk. “We’ve been busy searching for one infectious disease to explain all the symptoms, and something kept not fitting—the high white blood cell count, the anemia, the rash, the aneurysm …”“So what?” he demands. “It’s not infectious?”“The Kawasaki is,” I say. “But the leukemia isn’t.”There’s a long moment of silence, then Justin swears under his breath.
