The phone rang in the Cook County General ER.  Of course, this was an everyday occurrence, so no one paid much attention to it.  Randi picked it up. "Hello?"

"Hello, is this Cook County General Hospital?"
"Yes."

"May I speak with Dr. Kerry Weaver, please?"

"Can I ask who is calling?"

"My name is Russell Davies, and I am the Police Chief in San Sausalito, Montana.  It is of the utmost importance that I speak to her."

"Okay, I'll see if I can find her."

Kerry came marching into the desk area. "Dr. Weaver, there's a man on the phone.  He says his name is Russell Davies, Chief of Police in San Sausalito, Montana," Randi recited obediently.

"Where?" Kerry asked, setting down a chart.

"San Sausalito, Montana."

"I don't know anyone who lives in San Sausalito, Montana."

"Well, he wants to talk to you."

"Okay, okay, I'll talk to him." Kerry picked up the phone. "Hello?"

"Is this Dr. Kerry Weaver, from Chicago?"
 
"Yes.  Who is this?"

"My name is Russell Davies, and I am the Chief of Police in San Sausalito, Montana."

"I don't know anyone who lives in San Sausalito, Montana."

"Really?  Because I've got a record here that says your brother, Tom, wife, Heather, and their children, Clarissa, David, and Eliza, live here."

"Oh, them."

"Kerry, what is it?" Mark Greene looked up from his charts.

"My sister-in-law has been murdered by my brother, who killed himself, and his youngest daughter has nowhere to go."

"Excuse me?" Mark asked.

"Heather Weaver, 38, beaten to death by Thomas Weaver, 40.  Clarissa and David are 16, and Eliza is 11.  My aunt Juanita has asked for Clarey and Davy, but she doesn't want Eliza."

"Why not?"

"She feels that Eliza would be too much work."

"How are the children?"

"They're being examined at the San Sausalito Hospital as we speak.  All three appear to be abused and traumatized."

"Why are you…"

"Because I need permission to take three days off of work to get Eliza, and settle her in, and make sure that she goes to therapy, and stuff like that."

"Granted," Mark said.

"What?"

"Granted," Mark repeated. "Don't argue, Kerry.  Just go."

Clarissa and David, the last time she'd seen them, had been beautiful children.  They both had beautiful blond hair, Clarissa's combed into ringlets, David's in a bowl cut, like the Beatles' hair.  They wore similar outfits so the world would know they were twins.  Eliza had been the black sheep of the family, inheriting not only her father's reddish hair but his green eyes as well.  She was also the wild child, always roaming the farm, playing in the woods, and riding on the horses.

                  Times had changed.  Clarey and Davy sat side by side on the bench in the emergency room.  Clarey's ringlets had been straightened into a more attractive style, and Davy's Beatles cut was gone.  Replacing it were several spikes of blond hair.

                  Eliza was red-headed as usual.  She slept on the bench next to Clarey.  There were dark circles under her eyes and a bruise on her cheek.  She looked… vulnerable.

                  "Aunt Kerry," Clarey said, standing up. "Thank you for coming.  We're so sorry that Aunt Juanita won't take Eliza."

                  Davy stood, too.  Boy, was he tall. "Hi," he said in a deep voice, and shook her hand. "This is a terrible thing."

                  Kerry nodded and hugged him.

                  "Thanks," Clarey repeated, and hugged Kerry. "And this is our Lizer."

                  "What time did you get here?" Kerry asked.

                  "About five-thirty," Clarey answered. "The police got the call at five, and came right out.  Lizer's been given something to make her sleep."

                  "She didn't… she didn't see it, did she?"

                  "No." Clarey pursed her lips solemnly.

                  Kerry looked down at the child who was soon to become hers.  What was she going to do?