Marker

nine

Laurie's ancient windup alarm jangled in the morning's half-light, and she reached out to turn it off without even opening her eyes. As she settled back into the warmth of her bed, she shivered, not from cold but from nausea. Her eyes blinked open. She'd experienced a touch of nausea the previous morning as well, but she had ascribed it to the scallops she'd had the night before with Roger. She loved scallops, but there had been a few times in the past when they had made her feel queasy the following day. Luckily, yesterday's nausea had not lasted. By the time she had walked around a bit, it had all but disappeared. Laurie sat up. She shivered again. After taking a sip of the water she had at her bedside, she felt a bit better. The problem was that this time, she hadn't had scallops for dinner. In fact, she'd had some reasonably bland chicken, the memory of the nausea in the back of her mind.

As she clutched her sheets around her, she noticed a new symptom along with the nausea: mild right lower quadrant discomfort. It wasn't strong enough to call pain. Using her fingers, she gingerly pushed in her abdomen in the general area over the crest of her hip. She couldn't tell if it made the discomfort any worse, since pushing in her stomach mostly reminded her of her full bladder.

Throwing back the bedcovers, she pulled on her robe and slipped her toes into her slippers. As she walked into the bathroom she could feel the discomfort more distinctly. Now it was more like pain, but still quite mild.

As a doctor considering these two symptoms, Laurie's first concern was early appendicitis. She knew there were a lot of things that could go wrong in the right lower quadrant, and that the diagnosis could be challenging at times. But she knew she was jumping the gun. It was the kind of hypochondriasis she had indulged when she was a medical student. She smiled as she remembered a simple headache in her first year that made her worry that she was coming down with malignant hypertension simply because she'd studied the syndrome the night before. Of course, she didn't have malignant hypertension, and in a similar fashion, her discomfort and nausea were almost completely gone when she got out of the shower.

Laurie wasn't hungry, but she forced herself to eat a piece of toast. When that went down okay, she had some fruit. She was convinced that having something in her stomach would help, and it did. By the time she was ready to leave for the OCME, she felt pretty much like her old self.

She waved to Mrs. Engler when the woman's door cracked open. This time, the bleary-eyed harpy actually spoke, advising Laurie to get her umbrella, since it was supposed to rain.

It was a mild morning, and although overcast, it wasn't yet raining. Laurie walked north along First Avenue, oblivious to the crush of traffic, wondering if her nausea could be psychosomatic due to stress. What else is new? she thought dejectedly, since she'd never seemed to be able to get her social life to run as smoothly as her professional life.

Laurie's whirlwind five-week relationship with Roger had recently hit an unexpected bump. They had been seeing each other two or three times a week, as well as every weekend. Laurie didn't consider the current bump an insurmountable obstacle, but it had been jarring to a degree and made her remember that back in the beginning of their acquaintance, she'd warned herself that adolescent infatuations often did not withstand the test of time. The case in point was Laurie learning only two nights earlier that Roger was married. There had been plenty of opportunities for him to have told her this important fact, but he had chosen not to, for reasons Laurie couldn't fathom. It was only after Laurie had forced herself to ask him directly that he'd owned up to the truth. He had married a Thai woman some ten years ago when he was stationed in Thailand, and had never gotten a divorce, although he was supposedly now seeking one. Even more upsetting for Laurie was that he'd had several children.

The story became somewhat less damning as it unfolded. The woman was from a wealthy, privileged family, to which she had selfishly returned, according to Roger, essentially abducting the children when Roger was transferred to Africa. Yet his withholding such information set a bad precedent and made Laurie wonder if Roger was not quite the person she had envisioned. It also underscored a growing uneasiness that Laurie felt about the speed of the relationship, coupled with Roger's pressure for physical intimacy. On top of everything were her unresolved feelings for Jack.

The night before, as she sat in her apartment feeling sorry for herself about the previous night's revelations, she had had a mini-epiphany. For the first time, she had acknowledged to herself that she actively and deliberately suppressed issues she didn't want to talk about or even think about. She'd recognized this trait in her parents, particularly her mother, from as far back as Laurie could remember, and her mother's way of dealing with her recent bout with breast cancer was a case in point. Laurie had always despised the trait. Yet she had never looked at herself in the mirror as her parents' child. What made her come to the realization was that Roger's marital status hadn't been the surprise she liked to pretend. There had been hints, but Laurie had assiduously kept herself from acknowledging any of them. She simply did not want to believe that he was married.

At the corner of 30th Street, Laurie waited for the light to cross First Avenue. As she did so, she thought about how her newly acknowledged personality trait applied to her ailing relationship with Jack. With sudden clairvoyance, it seemed rather clear. She had wanted to put all the blame on him for being noncommittal about their future and for not bringing up the issue of marriage and children. Now she realized she had to share some of the blame as she had failed to bring it up herself. She also realized that his offer to broach the subject on a regular basis had actually been a concession on his part, maybe not a monumental one, but a concession nonetheless. How she was going to communicate all this to Jack, she had no idea. The last time they had spoken on any kind of personal level had been five weeks earlier.

As the light changed and she hurried across First Avenue and up the front steps of the OCME, she thought that having met Roger complicated things. Rather than having problems with one man, she now had problems with two. Although she cared for both of them, she knew she loved Jack, and she found herself longing for his un- compromising candor. Part of the reason she'd gone out with Roger in the first place was to make Jack jealous, an adolescent machination worsened by two complications: First, she hadn't expected to be as attracted to Roger as she had become; and second, she hadn't expected the jealousy ploy to work so well.

Although Laurie felt that Jack loved her, his enduring reluctance to make any commitment convinced her, his love was not the same as hers. Specifically, he had never made her feel that he valued their relationship as much as she did. She was convinced that he wasn't going to change and that he was incapable of jealousy.

But now, thanks to his current behavior, she felt differently. The tone of their interactions and conversations had deteriorated over time. When she had first moved back to her apartment, there'd been flippant sarcasm. After she started seeing Roger, it had become nastier, and it made Laurie feel terrible. A month ago, when Jack had asked her to have dinner with him and she told him she had plans to go to the symphony with Roger on the evening in question, Jack had responded by telling her to have a good life. He didn't suggest an alternative date. The implication was that he didn't even want to remain her friend.

Waving to Marlene, the receptionist, as she buzzed her into the ID room, Laurie had to smile. The whole situation smacked of a soap opera, and she told herself to put thoughts of the two men out of her mind. Clearly, changing her behavior or anyone else's was not going to be the easiest thing in the world.

Laurie draped her coat over one of the club chairs in the ID room, placed her umbrella on top, and went directly to the coffee machine. It was Chet's turn to decide which cases needed to be posted, and he was hard at work, bent over a stack of folders.

Laurie stirred her coffee and checked the time. It was still before eight, but certainly not as early as she used to get in with Jack.

She noticed that Vinnie wasn't there reading his newspaper, suggesting that he was already down with Jack, doing an autopsy. The only sounds Laurie could hear were the chatter of the operators in the communications room, preparing for the day. Laurie enjoyed the relative solitude, knowing that in an hour, the place would be humming with activity.

"Is Jack already downstairs?" Laurie asked, taking a sip of her coffee.

"Yup," Chet said without lifting his head. Then, suddenly, he looked up when he recognized the voice. "Laurie! Great! I was supposed to give you a message if you came in before eight. Janice is very eager to talk with you. She's been in here twice."

"Was it about a recent postoperative patient from the General?" Laurie questioned, her eyes lighting up. She had asked Janice to be sure to let her know if another such case surfaced. If it had, it would mean that not thinking about the two men in her life would be considerably easier, as her four suspicious homicide cases would grow by a hefty twenty-five percent. The two cases she had posted, McGillin and Morgan, she had yet to sign out. The other two had been signed out by Kevin and George, citing the manner of death as natural, a conclusion that Laurie had opposed.

"No, it wasn't a patient from the General," Chet said with a teasing smile that Laurie failed to detect. Laurie's shoulders slumped in disappointment. "It wasn't one, but rather two!" He reached out and tapped the top of two folders he'd put aside. He then gave them a gentle push in Laurie's direction. "And both obviously need to be posted."

Laurie snatched them up and looked at their names: Rowena Sobczyk and Stephen Lewis. She quickly checked their ages: twenty-six and thirty-two, respectively. "Are they both from the Manhattan General?" she asked. She wanted to be sure.

Chet nodded.

For Laurie, it seemed almost too good to be true from the standpoint of a diversion. Her series would grow to six cases, not five. That was a fifty percent increase. "I'd like to do these two cases," she said hastily.

"You got them," Chet responded.

Without another word, Laurie grabbed her coat and umbrella. With the folders under her arms, and balancing her coffee as best she could, she quickly headed through communications and the clerical room on her way to the forensic investigators' office. She was beside herself with curiosity. She'd had to eat a bit of crow over the course of the previous five weeks, as her supposed serial-killer scenario had failed to materialize as a viable possibility and had been dismissed by everyone except Roger. Jack had used the issue to tease her rather sarcastically on several occasions. Even Sue Passero had been dismissive after making what she described as multiple, discreet inquiries around the hospital. Luckily, Calvin had not brought up the issue at all. Nor had Riva.

The hospital charts on the original four cases had eventually arrived in Laurie's office, and she had completely filled in her matrix but found no smoking gun. In fact, there was no way the cases were related. There were different surgeons, mostly different anesthetists, a variety of anesthetic agents, a significant variation of preoperative and postoperative drugs, and differing locations in the hospital. Worst of all, the toxicology results were completely negative, despite Peter pulling every trick that he could think of with the gas chromatograph and the mass spectroscopy. For Laurie's benefit, he had truly gone out of his way to find even the most minute traces of an offending agent. And with no agent, no one was willing to give the serial-killer idea any credence, especially since there had been no more cases after Darlene Morgan. Everyone relegated the four cases to the wastebasket of statistical oddities occurring in the inherently dangerous environment of the hospital.

As Laurie popped into the forensic investigators' office, Bart looked up from his desk. "You're just in time," he said, and pointed to the rear of the room to make his point. Janice was in the process of pulling on her coat.

"Dr. Montgomery" she said. "I was afraid I was going to miss you. I've run out of steam, and my bed is calling." She peeled off her coat and after draping it over her desk chair, sat down heavily.

"Sorry to hold you up," Laurie said.

"No problem," Janice said gamely. "This won't take but a minute. Are those the Lewis and Sobczyk folders you've got?"

"They are," Laurie said, pulling up a chair. Janice took the folders, opened them, and took out her reports, handing them back to Laurie.

"Both these General cases remind me of the other four you were interested in," Janice said as Laurie scanned the write-ups. Janice cupped her tired face in her hands and leaned her elbows on the desk. She took a deep breath before continuing. "In short, both were young and healthy, both seemed to die of an unexpected cardiac problem, both had had minor surgery less than twenty-four hours earlier, and both obviously could not be resuscitated."

"They sound remarkably similar," Laurie agreed. She looked up. "Thanks for giving me a heads-up. Was there something in particular you wanted to tell me that's not in your summaries?"

"It's all there," Janice said. "But there is something I want to emphasize. Although most parameters with the Sobczyk woman are the same, there is one thing that is different. When she was found by the nurses, she was in extremis but still alive. Unfortunately, that quickly changed, despite strenuous intervention. Lewis, on the other hand, had no cardiac or respiratory activity when he was found by nurse's aides."

"Why do you think that's important?"

"Just because it's different," Janice said with a shrug. "I don't know, but last time you spoke with me, you asked me if I had sensed something intuitively about the Darlene Morgan case. I hadn't, but with Sobczyk, the fact that she was still alive jumped out."

"Then I'm glad you told me," Laurie said. "Anything else?"

"That's it. The rest is in the reports."

"Needless to say, I'll like copies of the hospital charts."

"They have already been requested."

"Great!" Laurie said. "I'm glad you told me this. If you think of anything else, you know where to find me."

Laurie gathered up her belongings and went out to the back elevator, eager to get to work. She couldn't remember being this excited in weeks. As the elevator rose, she thought about what Janice had told her. She wondered if it would be important.

Dashing into her office, Laurie hung up her coat and put her umbrella on top of the file cabinet. Sitting at her desk, she opened both folders and again took out Janice's reports. After rereading them more carefully, she leaned over, opened one of her desk drawers, then took out the matrix she had drawn from the original four cases. It was attached with a rubber band to the Morgan and McGillin folders, along with copies of the pertinent portions of the other two cases. Undoing the parcel, she held the McGillin folder for a second. She hadn't been able to give the definitive word to Dr. McGillin about his son's death as she had so confidently promised, and it made her feel guilty. She hadn't even spoken with the man in weeks, even though she'd promised to get back to him. As she put the folder down with the other, she made a mental note to call him. She wondered what the man would say if she told him she was entertaining the idea of a serial killer.

Feeling confident in Janice's assessment, Laurie went ahead and added Lewis and Sobczyk to the matrix, even though she had yet to do the posts. Since Janice anticipated Laurie's interest, she had done a very complete job on both cases. Even without the hospital charts, Laurie could fill in the boxes for the patients' ages, the times they had been pronounced dead, their MDs, the surgical procedures they'd undergone, and where in the hospital they'd had their rooms. While Laurie was busy doing this, Riva arrived.

"Adding to that matrix of yours?" Riva questioned, glancing over Laurie's shoulder.

"There are two more presumed cases. That's going to make six. Obviously, I haven't done the posts yet, but they sound exactly the same. Want to change your idea about the manner of death? I mean, this is going to be a fifty percent increase."

Riva laughed. "I don't think so, especially since the toxicology has been negative, and I for one happen to know how hard Peter has tried. By the way, how's your mother? I keep forgetting to ask."

"She's doing surprisingly well," Laurie said. "Of course, I don't hear much, since she's acting like the whole thing never happened."

"I'm glad she's doing well," Riva said. "Give her my best! Hey, how is that new beau of yours? You've been uncharacteristically silent about him."

"It's going well," Laurie said vaguely. Riva was right; Laurie had not shared much about Roger. Picking up her phone before Riva could ask any more questions, she called down to the mortuary office. She was pleased when Marvin answered. She told the tech about the two cases and said she wanted to do Sobczyk first. With his usual alacrity, he told Laurie he'd be waiting for her.

"See you in the pit," Laurie said to Riva as she scooped up Sobczyk and Lewis's folders. As she descended in the elevator she prepared herself mentally for the cases, which was easy, since she half assumed and half hoped she wasn't going to find much. By the time she had changed into scrubs, donned her moon suit, and pushed into the autopsy room, Marvin was almost ready. On the way to her table, she had to pass Jack's.

Recognizing Laurie, Jack glanced at the wall clock before straightening up from the opened body of a sizable elderly lady. A portion of her gray, stringy hair had been shaved to reveal a punched-out, depressed fracture of the skull on the top of her head. "Dr. Montgomery, it appears as if you are adopting banker's hours these days. Let me guess! I bet the explanation is that you were out painting the town red with your French boyfriend."

"Very funny," Laurie said. She fought against her irritation and the urge to walk on. "Actually, you are wrong on both counts. I was home last night, and Roger is as American as you or I."

"That's strange," Jack said. "Rousseau sounds so French to me. Wouldn't you agree, Vinnie?"

"Yeah, but my name's Italian, and it doesn't mean I'm not American."

"My gosh, you're right!" Jack said with false contrition. "I guess I'm jumping to conclusions here. Sorry!"

Laurie was embarrassed at Jack's behavior and the jealous anger he was doing a bad job of repressing. But under the circumstance of being in the autopsy room with Vinnie, she chose to change the subject. She pointed to the elderly woman's depressed skull fracture. "I see you have a rather obvious cause of death here."

"The cause maybe, but not the manner," Jack said. "Such cases are becoming my specialty."

"Would you care to explain?" Laurie questioned.

"Are you really interested?"

"I wouldn't be asking if I weren't."

"Well, the victim was hastily off-loaded from a cruise ship in the middle of the night. The cruise company claimed an inebriated elderly lady had a fatal fall in the bathroom of her stateroom. They reported there was no suspicious behavior and no violence involved. But I don't buy it, although she might have been drunk."

"Tell me why you don't buy it."

"First, the punched-out, depressed fracture is on the top of the head," Jack said, warming to the conversation. "That's hard to do if you're falling in a bathroom, unless you're a contortionist. Second of all, look at these patterns of bruises on the inside of her upper arms!" Jack pointed to linear groupings of petechiae, which Laurie could see when she looked closer.

"Next, notice the tan lines on her wrist and ring finger. She'd spent some serious time in the sun on the cruise, with what looks like quite a rock on her finger and a wristwatch. And guess what? No ring and no watch in the stateroom. I have to hand it to the tour doctor. Despite the hour, he was thinking in high gear. They had cleaned up the stateroom and the bathroom, but he still asked the right questions."

"So you think it was homicide."

"No question, despite the cruise company's comments to the contrary. Of course, I'll just be reporting the findings, but if anybody asked my opinion, I'd tell them that this woman was viciously knocked on the head with some kind of hammer, rudely dragged by her arms into her stateroom while still alive, robbed, and left to die."

"Sounds like a good case to emphasize that deaths among the elderly are in some respects similar to deaths involving child abuse."

"That's exactly right," Jack said. "Since the elderly are expected to die, there is less suspicion of foul play than with a younger person."

"It's a good teaching case," Laurie said, trying to put on a good face before moving on to her table. Although she was leaving the exchange on a reasonable note, its overall character was more evidence of how difficult it was going to be to have any kind of serious discussion with Jack about their relationship even if he was so inclined. But she put the thought out of her mind as she looked down on the body of Rowena Sobczyk.

"Do you suspect anything out of the ordinary on this case?" Marvin asked.

"Nope. I believe it is going to be straightforward," Laurie said as her trained eye began the external exam. Her first impression was that the woman looked considerably younger than the reputed twenty-six years. She was tiny with delicate, almost preadolescent features as well as thick, youthful-appearing curly black hair. Her skin was almost blemish-free and ivory-white, except for areas of dependent lividity. Both feet were bandaged, consistent with her surgery. The bandages were clean and dry.

Like with McGillin and Morgan, the remnants of the resuscitation attempt were still in place, including the endotracheal tube and the IV line. Laurie checked them carefully before removing them. She looked for signs of drug abuse and found none. She took off the bandages. The surgical incisions showed no signs of inflammation, and only minimal drainage.

The internal portion of the autopsy was the same as the external: negative for any obvious pathology. In particular, the heart and the lungs were entirely normal. The only finding was several cracked ribs from the resuscitation attempt. As with the other cases, Laurie made certain that she got more than adequate samples from all the usual places for toxicology screening. She was not about to give up hope that Peter would succeed with his magic on one of the cases.

"Do you want to do the second case right away?" Marvin asked when they had finished sewing the body back together.

"Absolutely," Laurie said. To expedite the transition, Laurie helped. As they passed Jack's table on the way out and again on the way in, Laurie made sure she didn't hesitate. She didn't want to be embarrassed again by any of his comments. If he saw her, he did not let on. By that time, the room was in full operation with lots of people coming and going, and in their moon suits, everyone looked rather similar. Thanks to the glare of the overhead lights, it was difficult to see through the plastic face masks.

As soon as they moved Stephen Lewis onto the table and into position, Laurie began her external exam. Meanwhile, Marvin went to get the specimen bottles and other materials for the case. Laurie forced herself to follow her usual protocol to avoid missing anything. Although her expectations were high that Stephen Lewis would be like the others in the sense of having no significant pathology, she wanted to be thorough, and her methodical approach paid off almost immediately. Barely discernable but definitely present was a small amount of crusted blood under the nails of his right index and ring finger. If she hadn't specifically looked, she would have missed it. It was something she'd not seen with Sobczyk, Morgan, or McGillin, and George and Kevin had not described it in the autopsy notes on the other two cases.

Putting Lewis's hand back down on the table, Laurie began a careful search for any scratches on the man's body that might account for the dried blood. There were none. Nor was there any bleeding at the IV site. Next, she removed the bandages covering the right shoulder. The surgical incision was closed and showed no signs of inflammation, although there was some evidence of postoperative bleeding, with a bit of crusted blood along the suture line. Laurie thought there was a chance this blood could have been the source of the blood under the nails although it seemed strange, since it was his right hand.

When Marvin came back, Laurie asked for a sterile swab and two specimen containers. She wanted to do a DNA fingerprint on both samples just to make sure they matched the victim. When she took the samples, she sensed that there was a small amount of tissue as well. In the back of her mind was the titillating thought that if her serial-killer idea had any merit and if Lewis had had a hint of the killer's intentions and if he could have gotten hold of him, maybe he could have scratched him. That was a lot of ifs, but Laurie prided herself on being meticulous.

The rest of the case went quickly. Laurie and Marvin had become accustomed to each other such that they functioned as a well-orchestrated team that required minimum conversation. Each anticipated the other's motions like tango dancers. Once again, there was almost no pathology. The only findings were minimal atheroma formation in the abdominal aorta and a benign-appearing polyp in the large intestine. There was no explanation for the man's sudden death.

"Is this your last case?" Marvin asked after taking the needle holder from Laurie when she had finished sewing up the body.

"It seems that way," Laurie said. She looked around the room to see if she could make out Chet, but she couldn't. "I guess we're done. Someone would have said something to me by now."

"Both these cases this morning remind me of those two we did a month or so ago," Marvin said as he began cleaning up the instruments and collecting the specimen bottles. "Remember those two when we found nothing significant? I can't remember their names."

"McGillin and Morgan," Laurie said. "Certainly I remember, and I'm impressed you do as well, considering the number of cases you're involved with."

"I remembered them because of how much they bugged you not finding anything. Hey, do you want to take these specimen samples with you, or do you want them to go up with all the rest?"

"I'll take the toxicology and DNA samples," Laurie said. "The microscopic can go with the others. And thanks for reminding me. I must say, I'm appreciating you more and more."

"That's cool," Marvin responded. "Likewise from my end. I wish all the docs were like you."

"Now that would be boring," Laurie said with a laugh as she gathered up the samples. She walked past Jack's table once again without stopping. She could hear him and Vinnie laughing over what had probably been some black humor. Laurie disinfected herself and the sample bottles before emerging into the hallway.

Not wasting any time, she got out of her protective gear and plugged her battery into the charger. Without even changing out of her scrubs, she headed for the back elevator. She carried the clutch of sample bottles against her chest to keep from dropping them. The two folders were under her arm. As she rode up to the fourth floor, she could feel her pulse in her temples. She was excited. The posts had confirmed Janice's assessment. Laurie was now confident that her series now stood at six.

Getting off on the fourth floor, Laurie cautiously peered into the toxicology lab. In her attempt to avoid the temperamental lab director, Laurie was reduced to sneaking around. Luckily, he stayed mostly in the general lab on the floor below. Feeling like a cat with its ears down, Laurie scurried diagonally across the lab and into Peter's tiny office. She was glad when she didn't hear someone call out her name. She was even more glad that Peter was at his desk, meaning she didn't have to seek him out.

"Oh, no!" Peter moaned teasingly when he looked up from his work and spotted the samples in Laurie's arms.

"I know you're not happy to see me," Laurie said. "But you are the man! I need you more than ever. I've just posted two more patients that are the mirror image of the others. There are now six."

"I don't know how you can say I'm the man, because so far, I've come up with a big blank."

"I haven't given up hope, so you can't, either." Laurie dumped the samples onto Peter's desk. Some of them threatened to roll off. Peter grabbed several and righted them. "Now that there are six cases, the idea of skulduggery goes up. Peter, you've got to find something. It has to be there."

"Laurie, I did everything I could think of with the other four cases. I looked for every known agent that affects cardiac rhythm."

"There has to be something you haven't thought of," Laurie insisted.

"Well, there are a couple of other things."

"Okay, like what?"

Peter made a face and scratched his head. "I mean, this is way out in left field."

"That's okay. We need some creativity here. What are you thinking about?"

"In the back of my mind, I remember reading something when I was in graduate school about a poison frog from Colombia called Phyllobates terribilis."

Laurie rolled her eyes. "I'll say you're getting a bit far afield. But it's okay. What about these frogs?"

"Well, they contain a toxin that's one of the most toxic substances known to man. If I remember correctly, it's capable of causing cardiac arrest."

"Sounds interesting! Have you tested for it?"

"Not really. I mean, so little of the toxin is needed, like millionths of a gram. I don't know whether it would show up with the sensitivity of our machine. I'll have to find out where to look."

"That's the spirit. I'm sure you are going to find something, especially with these two additional cases."

"I'll go online and see what I can learn."

"I appreciate it," Laurie said. "And keep me posted!" She picked up the DNA samples and started to leave, but then she stopped. "Oh, by the way, there was something slightly different with one of these cases. Let me check which one it was." She opened Sobczyk's folder and checked the accession number against the sample bottles. Finding the correct one, she held it up, then put it directly in front of Peter. "It's this one. This was the only patient out of the six who apparently had some cardiac and respiratory activity when she was found. I don't quite know what to make of that, but I thought you should know. If it were an unstable toxin, maybe it would have the highest concentration of all the cases."

Peter shrugged. "I'll keep it in mind."

Laurie looked out into the lab proper. Seeing that the coast was clear, she waved to Peter and quickly dashed out into the hallway. She used the stairs on her way up to the sixth floor. Halfway up, she stopped. All of a sudden, the right lower quadrant abdominal discomfort she'd had that morning reappeared. Once again, she used her fingers to press over the area. At first, it made the discomfort worse, reaching the threshold of what she would call pain, but then, as quickly as it had appeared, it vanished. Laurie felt her forehead to make sure she didn't have a fever. Convinced she didn't, she shrugged and continued on her way.

The sixth floor housed the DNA laboratory. In contrast to the rest of the building, the DNA lab was state-of-the-art. It was less than a half dozen years old and sparkled with white tiled walls, white cabinetry, white composite flooring, and the newest instrumentation. Its director, Ted Lynch, was a former Ivy League football jock. He wasn't in Calvin's league in terms of size, but not far behind, though he had a personality the opposite of Calvin's. Ted was an even-tempered, friendly individual. Laurie found him hovering over his beloved sequencer machine.

Laurie gave Ted a bit of background on the case and then asked him if he'd do a rush screen. Along with the samples from under Lewis's nails, she gave him a sample of Lewis's tissue.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah!" Ted voiced with a laugh. "You and Jack are quite a pair. Every time you bring me something, it's got to be stat, like the sky is going to fall if you don't get it. Why can't you two be more like the rest of the lazy gang? Hell, they hope they don't hear from me, because when they do, it creates work for them."

Laurie couldn't help but smile. She and Jack had created a reputation for themselves. Laurie told Ted just to do the best he could. She then descended a floor and walked quickly down toward her office. She couldn't wait to get to the phone. The person to whom she was most excited about giving the news of the two new members of her series was Roger.

Sitting at her desk, Laurie dialed Roger's extension at the Manhattan General. She drummed her fingers as she waited for the call to go through. Her heart was beating even faster than it had been earlier. She knew Roger would want to know about the two new cases if he didn't already. Unfortunately, when the line was picked up, it was Roger's voicemail. Laurie silently cursed. Of late it seemed that all she ever got was people's voicemail, never a real person.

After listening to Roger's outgoing message, Laurie merely said it was she who was calling and to call her back. She couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment at not getting hold of him right away. As she hung up the phone, she left her hand on the receiver as she thought about Roger being the only person who seemed to share her concern about the possibility of a grim reaper stalking the halls of the Manhattan General, which was the derogatory way Sue Passero had referred to her suspicions. Yet with her new self-honesty, she wondered how sincere his support really was. After the marriage revelation, she didn't know how much to trust him. As Laurie thought back over the last five weeks, she had to admit that he'd been almost too solicitous at times. She hated to be cynical, but that was the consequence of his dishonesty.

Laurie jumped as the phone rang under her hand, and snatched up the receiver in a mini-panic.

"I'm looking for Laurie Montgomery," a pleasant female voice said.

"Speaking," Laurie responded.

"My name is Anne Dickson. I'm a social worker here at the General, and I'd like to make an appointment with you."

"An appointment?" Laurie questioned. "Can you tell me what case this is about?"

"Your case, of course," Anne said, confused.

"My case? I'm not sure I understand."

"I work here in the genetics lab, and I believe you came in a little more than a month ago for a genetic screen. I'm calling to arrange for you to come back in so we can schedule a meeting."

A complex array of thoughts flashed through Laurie's mind. The BRCA1 test was yet another example of her putting unpleasant things out of her mind. She'd completely forgotten about having given the blood. This woman calling her up out of the blue brought back the whole disturbing issue like an avalanche.

"Hello? Are you still there?" Anne questioned.

"I'm still here," Laurie said as she tried to organize her thinking. "I suppose this means the test was positive."

"It means that I'd like to see you in person," Anne said evasively. "It's our normal procedure for all our clients. I'd also like to apologize. Your folder has been on my desk for a week or so, but it mistakenly got put in the wrong basket. It's my fault entirely, so I'd like to see you sooner rather than later."

Laurie felt a wave of impatient irritation. She took a deep breath and reminded herself that the social worker was only trying to do her job. Still, Laurie would have preferred just to be told the results than suffer some drawn-out protocol.

"I've had a cancellation for one o'clock today," Anne continued.

"I was hoping that might work. If it's not convenient, the next opening is a week from today."

Laurie closed her eyes and took another deep breath. She wasn't going to allow herself to be in limbo for a week. Although she expected that the phone call meant the test was positive, she wanted to know for certain. She looked at her watch. It was eleven forty-five. There was no reason she couldn't run over to the General. Maybe she could have lunch with Roger or Sue. "One is fine," she said with resignation.

"Wonderful," Anne said. "My office is in the same suite where you came for the blood to be drawn."

Laurie hung up the phone. With her eyes again closed, she bent over her desk and ran her fingers roughly through her hair, scratching her scalp. All the nasty consequences of the BRCA1 gene flooded into her consciousness, along with a wave of sadness. What particularly bothered her was the acknowledgment of the upcoming need to make what she called "an end decision," a decision that eliminated options, such as having children.

"Knock, knock!" a voice called out.

Laurie glanced up to find herself looking at the smiling face of Detective Lieutenant Lou Soldano. He appeared particularly dapper with a clean, pressed shirt and a new tie. "Hey, Laur," he said cheerfully. Laur was a nickname that Lou's son, Joey, had given Laurie back when Laurie and Lou had briefly dated. At that time, Joey was five. Now he was seventeen.

Laurie and Lou had not had a falling out but rather a mutual understanding that a romantic relationship wasn't appropriate. Although they continued to have great respect, understanding, and admiration for each other, the passion part didn't work. Instead of romance, a close friendship developed and blossomed over the years.

"What's the matter?" Lou asked. Laurie had started to talk, but instead of saying anything, her eyes filled up with tears. She'd slapped a hand over her forehead, pressing in on her temples with her thumb and index finger.

Lou closed the door. He pulled Riva's chair over and sat down, then put his hand on Laurie's shoulder.

"Hey, come on! Tell me what's going on here!"

Laurie took her hand away. Her eyes were still brimming, but no tears had spilled out. She puffed up her cheeks then smiled weakly. "Sorry," she managed.

"Sorry? What are you talking about? There's nothing to be sorry for. Come on! Tell me what's cookin'? But wait! I think I know."

"You do?" Laurie questioned. She opened one of her desk drawers and took out a tissue to blot her eyes. Once she had the watery eyes under control, she looked back at Lou. "What makes you think you know what's bothering me?"

"I've gotten to know you over the years: both you and Jack. I also know you and him are on the outs. I mean it's not like it's a secret."

Laurie started to protest, but Lou took his hand off her shoulder and held it up to shush her. "I know it's none of my business, but it is my business, since I'm crazy for both you guys. I know you've been seeing some other doctor, but I think you and Jack should patch things up. You guys were meant for each other."

Laurie had to smile in spite of herself. She gazed at Lou with loving eyes. The man was a dear. Back when she and Jack started to be romantically involved, she'd been concerned that he'd be jealous, since the three had become fast friends. Instead, he'd been generously supportive right from the beginning. Now it was Laurie's turn to put her hand on Lou's shoulder. "I appreciate your thoughts," she said sincerely. If he wanted to think her little bout of emotionalism was due to her relationship with Jack, that was fine with her. The last thing she wanted to do was get into a discussion of the BRCA1 problem with Lou.

"I know for a fact that your seeing this other guy is driving Jack crazy."

"Really," Laurie said. "Well, you know something, Lou: I'm actually surprised about that. I didn't think Jack would care one way or the other."

"How could you think that?" Lou questioned with an expression of total disbelief. "Did you forget about the way he acted when you almost got engaged to that arms dealer, Sutherland? Jack was a basket case."

"I thought that was because both you guys didn't think Paul was the right man, which he wasn't. I didn't think it was jealousy on Jack's part."

"Mark my words: It was jealousy, loud and clear."

"Well, we'll see what we can do. I would like to talk to Jack if he'll let me."

"Let you?" Lou questioned with equal disbelief. "Hey, I'll box him around the ears if he doesn't."

"I hardly think that would help," Laurie said with another smile. She blew her nose with the tissue she had in her hand. "But be that as it may, to what do I owe this mid-morning visit, especially as decked out as you are? I know you didn't come here solely as Jack's advocate."

"That's for damn sure," Lou said. He straightened up in his seat. "I got a problem, and I need some help."

"I'm all ears."

"The reason I'm spiffed up is because I had to head out to Jersey with Michael O'Rourke, my captain. Unfortunately, his wife's sister was murdered this morning here in the city, and we went out to tell the husband. Needless to say, I'm under a ton of pressure to come up with a suspect. The body's already downstairs in the cooler. What I'm hoping is that either you or Jack could do the case. I need a break, and between the two of you, you always seem to come up with the unexpected."

"Gosh, I'm sorry, Lou. I can't do it now. If it can wait until later this afternoon, I'm sure I can help."

"What time?"

"I don't know for sure. I have an appointment over at the Manhattan General."

"Really," Lou commented with a wry smile. "That's where Michael's sister-in-law got mugged: right in the parking garage."

"That's terrible. Was she on the hospital staff?"

"Yeah, for years. She was a head nurse who worked nights. She got whacked getting into her car on her way home. It's a crying shame. Two young kids, too, ten and eleven."

"Was she robbed or raped or both?"

"Just robbed, or so it seems. Her credit cards were strewn about the car. Her husband guesses she had less than fifty bucks, and for that she loses her life."

"I'm sorry."

"Not as sorry as I'm going to be unless I make some headway. What about Jack? He wasn't in his office when I went by."

"He's down in the pit, or he was when I left about a half hour ago."

Lou stood up and rolled Riva's chair over to her desk.

"Wait, Lou," Laurie said. "As long as you're here, there's something I want to mention to you."

"Oh, yeah? What?"

Laurie briefly told Lou about her series of six cases. She touched on only the highlights, but it was enough for Lou to pull Riva's chair back so he could sit down again.

"So you really think these cases are homicides?" Lou questioned when Laurie fell silent.

Laurie chuckled mostly at herself. "You know, I'm not sure," she admitted.

"But you just said you thought someone was doing this to these patients. That's homicide."

"I know," Laurie said. "The problem is, I don't know how much I believe it myself. Let me explain. Starting this morning, I've been on a self-honesty gig that's making me rethink a lot of things. I've been stressed emotionally over the last month and a half with Jack, with my mother, and other things, and I know I've been looking for a diversion. This series of mine certainly falls into that category."

Lou nodded in understanding. "So you think you might be making a mountain out of a molehill."

Laurie shrugged.

"Have you run this serial-killer idea by anybody else here at the OCME?"

"Just about everybody who will listen, including Calvin."

"And?"

"Everybody thinks I'm jumping to conclusions, because toxicology can't find anything remotely suspicious, like insulin or digitalis, which was used in documented healthcare institution serial murders in the past. Well, it's not completely accurate to say that everybody has disagreed. The doctor I've been seeing socially, whose name, by the way, is Roger and who works at the General, has supported me, but this morning I've found myself questioning his motives. But that's another issue entirely. Anyway, that's the whole story about the serial-killer idea."

"You've run it by Jack?"

"Certainly. He thinks I'm off the wall."

Lou stood back up and returned Riva's chair. "Well, keep me informed. After that corneal-cocaine conspiracy you ferreted out ten years ago, I probably would give your intuition more credit than you."

"That was twelve years ago," Laurie said.

Lou laughed. "That just shows to go you that time flies when you're having fun."