“Room two,” Liz called out, a step behind them.

“Homeless guy said he heard a noise from inside the dumpster, fished the baby out while someone called us.” Even though he was running, the officer’s voice was steady, factual. “Took us three minutes to get to the scene from the time the call came in. I thought I felt a pulse when we first got there, but there’s been no movement or sound since. I think it’s a newborn, but I’m not sure.”

Cort swung through the door, guiding the officer, and Liz made no attempt to take the child, knowing Cort would do it, compelled as he was by some unknown force to take the lead. Instead, she moved quickly to the far side of the examination table, looking for the position of the heat lamp, making sure everything she needed was in place.

Cort unwrapped the child from the emergency blanket and the smelly fleece one beneath. The baby was tiny, smaller than she’d expected, and Liz pushed aside the stab of grief and fear she felt on seeing the fragile, exposed skin red from hypothermia. As the nurse lifted the baby to whisk away the blankets, Liz cut away the footie pajamas and then pulled off the diaper, revealing the gender.

A little girl.

Gauging the heat from the lamp, she pulled it slightly closer, warming the air around the table a bit more.

With a glance at her watch, she called out, “Someone call for a neonate team to attend, stat.” In a quieter voice she continued, “Umbilical stump still attached, inexpertly tied off and cut. I estimate her to be about two days old.”

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