A False Dawn

SEVEN

Death has an odor unlike any other. The smell is often the first thing that greets you at a murder crime scene. In Miami, the heat and humidity would accelerate the decay process. Some cops seemed to get used to it. I never did. It was resurrected the moment I walked into the hospital emergency room.

The intensive care unit of Halifax Hospital is a sanitized place where the whiff of death isn’t permitted. But there was the smell of misery. I could detect it between the layers of disinfectant. It was the scrubbed hint of diarrhea, bleach, vomit, adhesive bandages, medicines and human stress.

Nine adults and three children sat in the ER waiting room. I looked at each face, trying to determine a connection between the victim I’d found and anyone in the waiting room. Three of the people were black; half dozen others were white.

A nurse seated behind the desk ignored me as she keyed information into a computer. “Excuse me,” I said waiting for her to pause and look up. “A young woman was airlifted in here this morning. Can you tell me how she’s doing?” I noticed that a doctor stopped writing for a moment and looked over at me.

“What’s the patient’s name?” the nurse asked.

“I don’t know. She was young. Face injuries. Probably a rape victim.”

“I need a name.”

“How many severely beaten young women do you have airlifted in here during the last twenty-four hours? Is she going to be okay?”

“Are you a family member?”

“No.”

“I can’t release that information unless you’re a member of the family or a police officer. Sorry.” She dropped her eyes from me and began typing on her keyboard.

I almost instinctively reached for a badge that I hadn’t carried in a year. “My name is Sean O’Brien. I found the victim. I was a homicide detective with Miami PD. Here’s my driver’s license. All I’m asking you is to let me know her condition.”

“That information is private. Hospital rules.”

I started to tell her that I couldn’t care less about hospital rules when the doctor nearby stopped writing and approached me. He motioned to follow him from the reception desk into an alcove. He studied me a second or two through dark eyes that looked tired yet compassionate.

“I’m Doctor Saunders. Did I hear you say that you found the girl brought in by air-ambulance today?”

“Yes. How is she?”

“No one has been here except the police. We don’t even have an ID for the deceased—”

“Deceased?”

“We did everything we could to save her. She was brutalized.”

I said nothing. Acid burned in my stomach.

“She’d lost a lot of blood. We had to remove her womb to try and save her.”

“What?”

“She’d been so abused there was no option. It’s tragic. I hope her killer is found.” He paused and started to leave, then hesitated. “I heard you say you were a homicide detective. Are you going to search for whoever did this to that poor girl?”

As I started to answer, his name was paged.

Dr. Saunders swiped an ID card through a slot and a set of double doors opened to a labyrinth of treatment rooms. I stood there a moment and watched him walk down a long corridor of hope and despair.

The sounds of my surroundings seemed more acute. The pulse of digital monitors connected to misfiring hearts. Soft sobs came from behind a curtain. A baby cried.

Outside, I inhaled the night air, filling my lungs to capacity. I wanted to purge the medicinal smells of human pain from the back of my throat. There was the scent of blooming roses, fresh-cut grass and pine. Lightning illuminated clouds over the ocean.

Exhaustion was sinking into my chest and the back of my neck. I looked forward to seeing Max. She was such a damn good listener. Never talked back, always seemed to care about what I was saying. I’d hoped she could hold her little bladder a while longer. Half an hour and I’d be home to let her out, feed her, fix myself some leftover chili and end the evening on the porch with Max on my lap and a scotch in my hand.

I was almost to my Jeep when two people stepped from a row of cars.

“That’s far enough O’Brien,” one of them said. “Put your hands where we can see them.”