At 3:17 A.M., I was completely alone in the morgue when something beneath the white sheet suddenly caught my eye…

pulse.

Slow.

Weak.

But there.

I hit the emergency call button so hard my hand hurt, and before anyone could answer I was already screaming down the hall for help.

Dr. Mercer arrived first, annoyed more than alarmed, followed by two nurses from the night unit.

“What is it?” he snapped.

“She has a pulse,” I said. “She’s alive.”

He looked at me like I’d lost continue reading …