Marker

seventeen

When laurie's alarm shattered the silence early Saturday morning, she felt about the same way she had Friday morning. Once again, she hadn't slept well, and what sleep she did get was marred by anxious dreams.

The first thing she did after getting out of bed was repeat the pregnancy test with a new kit. As a doctor, she was well aware of the necessity to repeat tests to rule out false readings. When she returned to check the results, she was aware of a definite ambivalence. But again, it was clearly positive. There could be little doubt that she was pregnant.

Adding credence to the test results was the morning nausea, which seemed a little worse than it had been the previous days, but after eating some dry raisin bran, she felt better. The accompanying right lower quadrant discomfort was another thing. Luckily, it wasn't anything like she'd experienced the prior evening on her way home from her rendezvous with Jack. Then it had been frank pain, strong enough to make her writhe. It had come on suddenly in the taxicab like severe intestinal cramps. For a few seconds, she thought she'd have to put in a call to Laura Riley, but then, as suddenly as it appeared, it vanished. As intense as it was, Laurie was convinced it was related to her digestive system. Its quality was much sharper than a menstrual cramp, which made her think it couldn't have anything to do with her being pregnant. The only confusion was that in the mornings, it appeared along with the nausea, suggesting it was related.

Laurie put her empty cereal bowl down on the countertop. Concerned about the lingering discomfort, she gingerly pressed in on her abdomen in the general area of the pain with her index finger, trying to determine if there was any pinpoint pain. There wasn't, and curiously enough, the palpation alone seemed to be beneficial. When Laurie took her hand away, the discomfort had vanished, suggesting to her once again that the problem was intestinal, perhaps gas.

Relieved that the sensation had vanished, Laurie quickly dressed. She was on call for the weekend, which meant that of all the medical examiners at the OCME, it was her turn to go in and see what kind of cases had arrived during the night. She knew that she would probably be doing a few autopsies, unless they all could be put off until Monday, which in her experience had never happened. There was a person on second call in case of a flood of urgent cases, but in Laurie's experience that never happened, either.

The weather was typical for New York in March-drizzling and cold. Laurie huddled under her umbrella as she trudged north on First Avenue. She had briefly searched for a taxi, but whenever the weather turned sour, they were hard to find.

As she walked, Laurie thought more about her conversation with Jack. In hindsight, she realized how her emotions had understandably been careening from one extreme to another. Although she now felt self-conscious about her reaction to Jack asking who the father was, since it was, in the final analysis, a reasonable question, she gave herself credit in general for having admirably maintained her composure. Considering the stakes involved, it might have been one of the most important conversations in her life. All she could do now was pray Jack would respond as she hoped. Given Jack's track record, she imagined the chances were only about fifty-fifty.

On the street outside the OCME were several TV media trucks, suggesting that something newsworthy had happened overnight, and Laurie's guard went up. Dealing with the media was not her favorite part of being a medical examiner. She'd had some unfortunate experiences with journalists in the past, to the extent of putting her job in jeopardy.

For a moment, Laurie hesitated and debated if she should head around to the 30th Street morgue entrance. She glanced back at the TV trucks. There were only three, and their antennae were not extended, suggesting that they were not anticipating breaking news. Guessing that whatever had drawn them to the OCME was not front-page news, Laurie climbed the steps and entered. A dozen or so journalists and three cameramen were making themselves at home in the lobby.

Waving a greeting to Marlene, who came in for a few hours every Saturday morning, Laurie tried to walk across the lobby to be buzzed in. Almost immediately, a journalist who recognized her blocked her way by thrusting a microphone in her face. Several bright lights switched on, bathing the lobby in stark illumination as cameramen hoisted their equipment to their shoulders.

"Doctor, do you care to comment on the accident?" the journalist questioned. Others crowded around, extending their own microphones. "In your opinion, was it a double suicide, or were the two boys pushed?"

Laurie shoved the microphone out of the way. "I have no idea what you are talking about, and any information coming from this office has to be cleared by the chief, the deputy chief, or the public relations office. You people know that."

Laurie pushed her way toward the ID room while ignoring a welter of further questions. To her relief, Robert was visible through the central glass pane. With his help, she got inside and closed the door behind her with the journalists stranded out in the lobby.

"Thanks, Robert," Laurie said, peeling off her coat.

"They're like a bunch of wolves," Robert responded.

"What's this is all about?" Laurie asked.

"A couple of thirteen-year-old boys were run over by a subway train."

Laurie winced. Such a scenario was going to be emotionally taxing for her, and she was surprised she'd not been called during the night. Luckily, the current batch of tour doctors was particularly competent, and they had significant experience under their belts to handle all but the most critical cases. The tour doctors were mostly senior pathology residents earning a bit of money by moonlighting.

"Have the IDs been done?"

"Yup! That was all taken care of during the night."

Laurie was glad that was out of the way. For her, the ID process was especially trying with children, as it invariably meant dealing with the bereaved parents.

Laurie continued into the ID office, delighted to see Marvin's weekend call coincided with hers. He'd already made the coffee and had laid out the folders of the cases that had come in, with one of them in front of him.

Laurie and Marvin exchanged greetings as she helped herself to a mug of coffee. "Looks like we're going to be busy," she said, eyeing the folders.

"I'm afraid so," Marvin agreed. He tapped the folder in front of him with his knuckle. "We got another of these confusing postoperative cases from the General."

"No kidding!"

"There's a note from Janice on the front."

Laurie read the note quickly. It outlined the details on Patricia Pruit, answering all the usual pertinent questions. Laurie sucked in a deep breath. Providing she found no significant cardiac pathology, her series was now up to fourteen, with eight at the Manhattan General alone. It couldn't go on.

"Let's do Pruit first," Laurie said.

"Before the two boys?" Marvin questioned. "Did you see all the newspeople waiting out in the lobby?"

"I did, and they can wait some more," Laurie said. She wanted to confirm as soon as possible that Pruit was part of her series and let Roger know. Something had to be done. They couldn't stand on the sidelines any longer.

"Okay, I'll go down and get set up."

"Anything else of note?"

"Most seem routine to me. I think you'll want to pass on the majority of them. My guess is that we are looking at doing four cases, but you may have other ideas."

While Marvin went down to the autopsy room, Laurie went through all the folders. As she had anticipated, Marvin was right. They'd do the four cases and call it a day, unless anything of note came in while they were working. With that decided, Laurie went up to her office to stash her coat. She was glad she had, because sitting on her desk was a stack of hospital charts. To her amazement, the PAs had somehow managed the impressive feat of getting Lewis and Sobczyk's charts from the Manhattan General and the six charts from St. Francis, all in record time.

The chart on the top of the pile was Rowena Sobczyk's. Laurie flipped it open and shuffled through some of the pages, glancing at the OR notes and the anesthesia record. As with McGillin and Morgan, there was nothing out of the ordinary. She was about to put the chart down when a short strip of abnormal EKG flopped out. It was about two feet long, having been folded, accordion-style, into the chart with just the first six inches glued to the page.

Laurie opened the chart to the location. It was a note written by the resident in charge of the resuscitation attempt. Laurie quickly read it and found it unenlightening. She then extended the EKG tracing and studied it. The complexes were stretched out, suggesting that they represented ineffectual heartbeats, if they had been heartbeats at all. They could have been merely poorly coordinated cardiac electrical activity that didn't cause any muscular contraction. As the sequence continued, the complexes became progressively more distorted, then rapidly flattened out to a straight line. On the border, scribbled in pencil, was the message: "Short EKG segment from the outset of the resuscitation attempt, after which no further electrical activity was obtained."

She'd never had a strong background in reading EKGs, and this short segment didn't suggest anything to her. Yet she couldn't help but think it might be significant, since there had been no similar tracings on either McGillin or Morgan, who'd had no electrical activity on EKG whatsoever, and she thought she might show it to someone more knowledgeable than she. She marked the spot in the chart with her ruler, and even scribbled on a Post-it note to remind herself to show the tracing to a cardiologist.

Her phone rang, and the sound made her jump. She eyed it, hoping and wondering if it could be Jack. She put her hand on it and allowed it to ring again, feeling the vibration through her skin in a vain attempt to influence the identity of the caller. Her efforts notwithstanding it was Marvin, and the message was simple: All was ready downstairs in the autopsy room.

Laurie returned Sobczyk's chart to the top of the pile, with the ruler sticking out of the side. She was looking forward to going over them later that afternoon, particularly those from Queens, to make sure the cases mirrored those from the General. She then looked back at the phone, and for a brief moment contemplated calling Jack. In the process, she noticed the small light on the side of the phone indicating she had voicemail. Confused by who would have left her a voicemail during the night, she picked up the receiver again and checked her messages.

Laurie was surprised first by the time of the message and then by the sound of Roger's voice. She was impressed that he had taken her suggestion so seriously that he'd been working nonstop until two o'clock in the morning. She was even more impressed that he had managed to come up with what he considered a list of suspects, including an anesthesiologist by the name of Najah who'd recently transferred from St. Francis to the Manhattan General. As she continued to listen to the message, she felt a definite sense of satisfaction and an eagerness to hear the details, although when was another matter. As she headed back toward the elevators to the basement, she wondered if and when Jack might call. You never knew with Jack.

As Laurie had anticipated, the post on Patricia Pruit was strikingly similar to the others in the series, with absolutely no pathology to account for her sudden demise. True to form, the operative site was without any excessive bleeding, without signs of infection, and there were no clots in the major vessels of the legs, abdomen, or chest. The heart, lungs, and brain were all entirely normal.

At the end of the procedure, Laurie helped Marvin move the corpse back onto a gurney.

"Which one of the kids do you want to do first?" Marvin asked as he unlocked the gurney's wheels.

"It doesn't matter," Laurie said. She had opened the two folders on a neighboring autopsy table and was searching for the forensic investigator's reports. Then, getting a second thoughts, she said, "In fact, why not put them both up at the same time."

"Fine with me," Marvin said agreeably. He pushed the gurney with Pruit's corpse out through the main door.

A few years ago, Laurie would have taken the folders up to the lunchroom between cases, but now that she had on her moon suit, it was too much trouble, so she read the investigative reports standing up, with her ventilation fan as a backdrop. She could immediately see why some journalists would be interested. The tragic episode had the kind of lurid appeal that the tabloids loved. The accident had happened at three o'clock in the morning at the 59th Street station. The uptown train had thundered in and run over the two kids.

Conflicting stories were the problem. The engineer claimed that the kids had waited until the last minute to jump, so there was nothing he could do. Such a scenario suggested a double suicide, but the engineer failed a Breathalyzer test, casting severe doubt on his reliability. The other story came from the conductor, who claimed he was between car one and car two, looking out at the station, as the train came in. He said he didn't see any kids on the platform, and he passed the Breathalyzer test. The third story was from the agent in the token booth, who claimed that a suspicious man had gone through the turnstile right after the kids but disappeared.

The door to the hall burst open and Marvin pushed in another gurney. "This is not pretty," he said.

"I can imagine," Laurie said. She continued reading the investigative reports. No suicide notes were found, either on the platform or on the victims. Conversations with both sets of parents did not confirm any episodes of depression. In the words of one of the parents, the kids were "wild and full of the devil but would never kill themselves."

"I'm going to get the other one," Marvin called out.

Laurie waved over her shoulder as she continued to read. Once again, she was impressed with Janice's work. How Janice could pack as much as she did into a single night, Laurie had no idea.

When Laurie was finished with her reading, she took out the sheets for the autopsy notes from the two folders and turned around to face the first of the two corpses. As she did so, Marvin came back in with the second one.

"Good Lord," Laurie murmured as she looked down at the first boy's remains. Teenagers weren't as difficult emotionally for Laurie as younger children, but they were still tough.

Being run over by a train was at the upper end of traumatic experiences. The boy's arm had been severed at the shoulder and it lay alongside the torso. The head and the face had been reduced to a pulp. There was no way things could have been cleaned up for the parents' benefit.

Laurie began the external examination by detailing the all-too-visual trauma. It was obvious that the body had tumbled along beneath the train until it had been brought to a stop.

"There's the second one," Marvin said as he wheeled the empty gurney over to the side of the room.

Laurie waved over her shoulder without turning around. She found something unexpected on the boy's penis, which made her move down and look at the soles of his feet. Marvin joined her on the opposite side of the table.

"I noticed that," Marvin said, following Laurie's line of sight. "What do you make of it?" In addition to the abrasions, there was a bit of charring.

"Where are the shoes?" Laurie asked.

"In a plastic bag in the walk-in."

"Bring them in," Laurie said. She was preoccupied and immediately stepped over to the second child.

By the time Marvin was back with the clothing from both cases, Laurie felt she had solved the mystery by the external exam alone. Marvin brought over the sneakers that the kids had been wearing. Like the bodies themselves, they were a sorry sight. Laurie picked them up and looked at the soles. "Seems pretty clear to me what happened."

"Oh?" Marvin questioned. "Fill me in."

At that moment, the door to the hall banged open, surprising both Laurie and Marvin. It was Sal D'Ambrosio, one of the other mortuary techs. He was more animated than his usual indifferent self. "We got a headless, handless male corpse that just arrived, along with some cops. What should I do?"

"Did you x-ray it, weigh it, and photograph it like you're supposed to do?" Laurie questioned. In sharp contrast with Marvin, who needed little direction, Sal's apathy often grated on Laurie's nerves. There was a protocol to be followed with every body arriving at the OCME.

"All right already," Sal said, sensing Laurie's impatience. "I thought with the cops here, it might be a different story." He ducked back out and the door closed.

Laurie paused for a minute. Hearing that a headless, handless body had arrived created a sense of déjà vu that took her back seven years, when a similar corpse had been brought in after floating around in the East River. With some effort, identification had been made. The man's name turned out to have been Franconi, and Mr. Franconi posthumously had taken her and Jack on a wild adventure to Equatorial Guinea in West Africa.

"Hey!" Marvin interrupted Laurie's brief reverie. "Come on! You got me curious here. What's with these two kids?"

Laurie again started to explain, but the door to the hall reopened. A gowned, hooded, and masked figure walked in, much to Laurie and Marvin's surprise.

"I'm sorry, but no one is allowed in here," Laurie called out, holding up her hand like a traffic cop. For a moment, she thought the intruder might have been a particularly adventuresome journalist who'd somehow managed to infiltrate OCME security. "It's dangerous, and full protective gear is mandatory."

"Oh, come on, Laur!" the man said while stopping in his tracks. "Jack told me on the weekends things weren't so hard-nosed around here and that this is the way he dresses unless it's an infectious case."

"Lou?" Laurie questioned.

"Yeah, it's me. You're not going to make me get into one of those suits, are you? They drive me crazy."

"If Calvin comes in, you'll be banned for life."

"Realistically, what are the chances of him coming in?"

"Nil, I suppose."

"Well, there you go," Lou said. He walked over to Laurie and glanced down at the two boys, then quickly looked back up at Laurie. "Yuck! What a sight! How you do this for a living?"

"It does have its downside," Laurie agreed. "What brings you in here so early on a Saturday?"

"The headless horseman I came in with. It's caused another stir over at the Manhattan General. I tell you, that place is going to be the bane of me."

"I think you'd better fill me in."

"I got called at the crack of dawn this morning. Seems that the guy who takes care of the bodies over at the General came in to work as usual and then found a body that wasn't supposed to be there." Lou laughed. "I mean, there's some humor here, finding an extra body in a morgue. I've heard about bodies being misplaced or missing, but finding an extra one is a bit out of the ordinary."

"Why were you called? Why wasn't it just taken care of by the local precinct?"

"My captain got word of it subsequent to his sister-in-law's murder over there yesterday morning. He practically has an open line to the hospital. So he calls me right off the bat and tells me to get my ass over there. The problem is that there haven't been any breaks in his in-laws' case, so he's got the thumbscrews to me. Also, there are some similarities. This new corpse has what look like two bullet holes, just like his sister-in-law."

"No ID?"

"Nope, not a clue. And there's no one missing at the hospital, like patients or staff."

"And what about the head and the hands?"

"Gone. They're nowhere to be found."

"So your captain thinks this new corpse relates somehow to his wife's sister's case."

"He didn't say so in so many words, but that was obviously what was on his mind. It is weird. The corpse was as clean as a whistle when the guy found it in the back of their old anatomy cooler. No blood, no gore, no nothing, as if the guy just got out of the shower. The whole thing is kind of eerie if you ask me, and I've seen a lot of weird stuff in my career."

"How were the head and the hands cut off?"

"What do you mean?"

"Was it clean, or were they hacked off?"

"Clean. Very clean."

"Like maybe the way a doctor might do it?"

"I suppose. I hadn't thought about it like that, but yes."

"Sounds like an intriguing case."

"Will you do it right away? The captain said he wants to hear from me ASAP."

"I'll be happy to do the case, but not until I finish with these two boys."

Lou glanced around Laurie and took another look at the remains. "What's the story here?"

"Two kids run over by an A train."

Lou grimaced. "Is this what attracted the media types up in the lobby?"

"I'm afraid so. Just the idea of being hit by a train is gruesome enough, but to make it even more appealing to the tabloids is the question whether it's a double suicide or a double homicide."

"Yeah," Marvin said, speaking up for the first time. "I was just about to hear the answer the moment you came in."

"Really?" Lou questioned. He overcame his hesitancy and stepped nearer. "These guys look like they went through a meat grinder. What was it, suicide or homicide?"

"Neither," Laurie said. "It was accidental."

With obvious surprise, both Lou and Marvin looked up at Laurie.

"How can you be so sure?" Lou questioned.

"I'm confident that when I do the posts, I'll find evidence the children were dead when the train struck them. Look at the slight charring on the feet." Laurie picked up a foot from each child in turn and pointed to the darkened, scorched areas.

"What am I looking at?" Lou questioned.

"Burns," Laurie said. Then she pointed to the children's penises. "Just like those on the tip of their glandes."

"What the hell are glandes?" Lou asked.

"It's plural for glans, or head of the penis."

"Ouch," Lou said, making a grimace of pain.

"I think these two boys made the fatal mistake of peeing in tandem on the third rail while standing either on the steel edge of the platform or on the rails themselves. There was such a good ground, the electricity arced up their urine streams and simultaneously electrocuted them."

"My good God!" Lou said, straightening up. "Remind me never to do that."

Lou stayed for the posts on the two boys, which went quickly. As Laurie had anticipated, there was visible evidence that the massive trauma the boys received occurred after their hearts had ceased to beat. While Laurie worked, she told Lou about the first case they had done, Patricia Pruit, and that as a consequence, her series of mysterious, inexplicable, unexpected deaths at the Manhattan General had risen to eight.

"Good grief," Lou responded. "Jack told me yesterday you had seven, and that he was coming around to your idea about a serial killer, but that the front office wasn't buying as of yet. What's Calvin's reaction now? Is the OCME willing to take a public stand?"

"Calvin doesn't know about the one this morning," Laurie said. "I don't know what his reaction will be, but I'm not optimistic. I'm afraid it's going to take some momentous event to get him to see the light, since no help has come from toxicology. When it concerns the Manhattan General, he has blinders on. He still thinks of it as the old, venerated academic center where he trained. The last thing he'd want to do is tarnish its reputation."

"If healthy people keep dying over there, its reputation is going to suffer, one way or the other. But let me know if he comes around to your way of thinking. Like I told Jack, with everything else that's happening at the moment, my hands are tied, at least officially. I'm up to my eyeballs with this Chapman case. If I don't come up with a suspect, I might be out selling pencils."

"Actually, I'm working with Dr. Roger Rousseau to generate some legitimate suspects, and he left me a voice message last night, saying he'd made some progress."

"I hate to hear you are 'working' with that guy, for obvious reasons. But if you and he can come up with some names, I can do something, even if it's not official."

"I think we already have one," Laurie said. She finished sewing up the last of the two boys and handed the instruments to Marvin. "Let's go ahead and put up the headless John Doe before the tourist." The tourist was the fourth case they planned on posting. He was a college student who had presumably died from acute alcohol toxicity. The level in his blood had already been shown to be off the charts. He'd been found in Central Park by an early-morning jogger.

While Marvin went out to get Sal to help him with the corpses of the two boys, Laurie continued to talk to Lou about her series. She explained her idea about the potential killer apparently moving from St. Francis to the Manhattan General, and that Roger was going to look into transferees, among other people, and might even have talked to some of them, including the anesthesiologist Najah.

"Wait a second!" He held up his hand. "Hold it right there. Are you telling me this boyfriend of yours is planning on approaching Najah and some of these other so-called suspects himself?"

"I believe so, yes," Laurie responded. She was caught off guard. She hadn't expected such a negative reaction from Lou.

"This is nuts," Lou said. "You know how I feel about amateur detective shenanigans. It's one thing to come up with some names as part of an armchair game, but it's something else entirely when it comes to actually approaching anybody."

"Why? You'd have to narrow it down to find out which ones could truly be suspects. Otherwise, it's pure conjecture."

"Jesus H. Christ! Laurie, I hate to hear you talking like this. Let's suppose for a second there really is a serial killer behind your so-called series. If there is and if he's not absolutely bonkers, then he could be extremely dangerous. The slightest provocation could push him over the edge."

Marvin and Sal came back into the autopsy room. While they moved the teenagers' corpses onto the waiting gurneys, Laurie and Lou stood silently. They were both self-conscious about Lou's sudden vehemence. When the door closed behind the techs pushing their gurneys, Lou cleared his throat.

"Sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to come on that strong. It's just that amateur sleuthing scares the bejesus out of me. The last thing I want you doing is risking your life like you did playing detective back during that Paul Cerino cocaine affair. Dealing with psychopaths is not for novices."

"I think I get your point," Laurie said.

"On a lighter note," Lou said, eager to change the subject, "I've been dying to ask about your dinner date with Jack last night. How'd it go? Are you guys going to bury the hatchet or what?"

Laurie didn't answer right away, and when she did, all she said was that the jury was still out. Lou was hardly satisfied, but his intuition told him to let it go.

Marvin and Sal returned with a single gurney, Marvin pulling, Sal pushing. After Marvin placed an X-ray he had under his arm on a neighboring surface, the two techs expertly transferred the headless and handless male corpse.

"I see what you mean," Laurie said after taking one look at the body. "It is remarkably clean." In sharp contrast to the teenagers' mangled bodies, there was no blood, even at the severed neck and wrists, which were cut off so sharply as to look like illustrations in an anatomy book. Sal took the gurney back out into the hall while Marvin put up the X-ray.

The two bullets stood out as pure white blotches in the gray-to-black field. One was a flattened irregular shape and the other normal. Laurie pointed to the misshapen slug in the middle of the torso. "My guess is that this one hit the spine." She then pointed to the defect in one of the vertebrae. "I'd say it ended up in the liver. The other one is in the mediastinum, in the center of the chest, and I wouldn't be surprised if we find it penetrated the aortic arch. That was the fatal shot."

"Looks like a nine-millimeter," Lou said.

"We'll see," Laurie said.

She went back to the body to start the external exam. While standing on the corpse's right with Marvin on the opposite side, Laurie asked the tech to roll the body toward him. She wanted to view the entrance wounds as well as photograph them. But when Marvin did as she asked, she caught sight of a small, intricate tattoo of an octopus in the small of the corpse's back.

Laurie staggered and sucked in a lungful of air. She reached out and grasped the table's edge to keep herself erect. Her eyes were fixated on the tattoo.

"Dr. Montgomery, are you okay?" Marvin asked.

Laurie didn't move. Although she had initially staggered, now she seemed frozen.

"Laurie, what's up?" Lou asked. He bent forward to try to see through her plastic face mask.

Laurie shook her head to break her momentary trance. She took a step back from the table. "I need a break," she said in a high, breathless voice. "This autopsy is going to have to wait." She turned on her heel, and headed for the door.

Both Marvin and Lou looked after her. Lou called her name, but she didn't answer. When the doors closed behind her, Lou looked at Marvin. "What's going on?"

"Beats me," Marvin said. He eased the corpse back to a supine position. He gave a short, mirthless laugh. "This has never happened before. Maybe she's sick."

"I think I'd better check," Lou said, and he started for the door.

Expecting Laurie to be in the corridor, Lou was surprised when he didn't see anyone. From where he was standing he could see all the way down to the security office. There didn't seem to be anyone in there, either. Confused as to what was going on, he walked down the length of the bank of small, refrigerated compartments where the bodies were stored prior to autopsy. When he reached the end, where there was a large walk-in cooler to his left, he was able to see to his right down into the supply room where the moon suits were stored. Although she was partly out of view, he was able to catch a glimpse of Laurie climbing out of her gear. When he got down there, Laurie was plugging her battery pack into the charger.

"What's going on?" Lou asked. "Are you okay? Aren't you going to do the case?"

Laurie turned and faced her friend. Her eyes were brimming with tears.

"Hey," Lou said. "What is with you?" He pulled off his mask, peeled off the gown covering his street clothes, and enveloped her in a sustained hug. She didn't resist.

After several minutes, Lou leaned back to see Laurie's face, still keeping his arms around her. She worked her arm up between them and wiped her eyes with her hand, then dried it on the front of her scrub shirt.

"Are you ready to talk?" Lou asked softly.

Laurie nodded but made no attempt to free herself from Lou's embrace. She took a deep breath, started to talk, stuttered, and then stopped to wipe her eyes again.

"Take your time," Lou urged.

"I'm afraid I know the identity of the headless body," Laurie said finally in a halting voice. "It's Roger Rousseau, my friend from the Manhattan General."

"Good God!" Lou said, half in sympathy and half in irritation. "Now you see why I said amateur sleuthing is dangerous."

"I don't need a lecture," Laurie said. She pushed herself out of Lou's arms.

"I'm sorry, I know you don't, but this is a disaster."

"Tell me about it," Laurie challenged. "This person was someone important in my life, and I'm the one who put him up to what he did. Oh, God, what a mess!" Laurie cradled her head in both hands.

"Excuse me, Dr. Montgomery, but that's not what happened. You made a suggestion for him to come up with some names. Unless I'm off base, you didn't put him up to going around talking to people. That was his idea."

"At the moment, that seems like an academic distinction," Laurie said while letting her hands fall to her sides.

"Are you going to do the case?" Lou asked.

"No, I'm not going to do the case," Laurie snapped.

"Okay, okay. You don't have to get mad at me. I'm on your side."

"Sorry," Laurie said with a shake of her head.

Robert Harper, the head of security, passed by Laurie's line of sight down near the walk-in cooler. After disappearing in the direction of the autopsy room, he did a double take and returned to view. He quickly approached.

"The media people are getting restless," Robert reported. "They've heard about the headless corpse and now insist on getting details."

"How did they hear about the new arrival?" Laurie demanded.

Robert made a questioning gesture with his hands. "I've no idea. Marlene just called me to come up there to calm them down."

Laurie looked at Lou. Lou put up his hands. "I didn't tell them."

Laurie shook her head dejectedly. "This is a circus."

"What should I tell them?" Robert asked.

"Tell them that I'm calling the deputy chief."

"I doubt that will satisfy them."

"It's going to have to," Laurie said. She pushed between both men and walked out of the storeroom on her way back to the autopsy room.

Robert and Lou exchanged a quick glance before Robert headed back upstairs. Lou went after Laurie. By quickening his step, he caught up with her. "Rousseau's got to be posted," he said.

"You don't have to tell me what I already know," Laurie said. She pushed open the autopsy door, leaned in, and told Marvin to take a break and that she would be back to him in a little while. She then headed for the back elevator. Lou followed.

As they rode up in the elevator cab, Lou looked at Laurie, who stared back. For the moment, her shock and sadness had turned to anger.

"Maybe this is the wake-up call," Laurie said. "Maybe now all you naysayers will think a bit more seriously about this series of mine."

"I beg to differ," Lou corrected. "Rousseau's death does not unequivocally validate that the deaths of the patients in your series are homicides. All it does is confirm that we have a killer at the Manhattan General who is targeting doctors and nurses. Maybe this individual is killing patients, maybe he's not. Avoid jumping to conclusions."

"I don't care what you say, I think they are related."

"Maybe so," Lou said. "Did Rousseau leave any other name besides Dr. Najah?"

"No, that was the only one."

"But you suspect he had more."

"There's no doubt he had more. He said as much."

"Do you think he might have written the names down?"

"I do. He mentioned he had lists."

"Well, thank the good Lord for small favors."

They arrived at Laurie's floor. Lou hurried after Laurie, who bolted out of the elevator and headed down to her office. When Laurie sat down at her desk and picked up her phone, Lou did the same at Riva's desk. With some hesitation, Laurie dialed Jack's number. She prayed he'd be in his apartment and not out playing basketball. To her relief, he picked up on the second ring.

"I hate to bother you," Laurie began.

"Bother? It's no bother. It's good to hear from you."

"I know I said I'd wait for your call, but something has come up. Jack, I need you here at the OCME."

"Are the cases so uninteresting that you need comic relief?" Jack suggested. He started to say more, but Laurie cut him off.

"Please, hold the sarcastic humor! Roger Rousseau was brought in this morning as an unidentified homicide victim. He was shot last night at the Manhattan General Hospital."

"I'll be right there," Jack said and hung up.

After slowly replacing the receiver, Laurie put her elbows on her desk, cradled her head with her hands, and rubbed her eyes. Ever since that fateful night in Jack's apartment when she couldn't sleep, it was as if her life had spun out of control. She seemed to be hurled from one upheaval to another. Behind her, she could hear Lou talking with some of his men over at the Manhattan General. He was telling them to seal Dr. Roger Rousseau's office until he got over there and to run a background check on a doctor named Najah.

An involuntary moan escaped Laurie's lips as she straightened herself up and took her hands away from her face. She would need to grieve for Roger, but it would have to be later. She picked up the phone and dialed Calvin's number. After she spoke briefly with his wife, Calvin came on the line.

"What's up?" Calvin asked in an impatient tone. He did not like to be bothered at home without good reason.

"I'm afraid a number of things. First things first, but I'm not sure how to say this."

"I'm not in the mood for games, Laurie. Just tell me what you have to tell me."

"All right. I'm ninety-nine percent sure that the chief of the medical staff at the Manhattan General, the doctor friend with whom I have been confiding about my series, is at this moment lying on a table in the autopsy room, waiting to be posted. He'd been shot last night in the hospital and found this morning in the anatomy cooler."

For a moment, Calvin didn't say anything. Laurie might have thought they'd been disconnected if she couldn't hear his breathing.

"Why aren't you one hundred percent sure?" Calvin finally asked.

"The corpse is headless and handless. Whoever did this to him didn't want him identified."

"So he was brought in as a John Doe?"

"That's correct."

"And how did you make the ninety-nine percent identification?"

"I recognized a rather unique tattoo."

"So, I suppose it's safe to say this individual was more than a friend."

"He was a friend," Laurie persisted. "A good friend."

"Okay," Calvin said, willing to change the subject. "Knowing you as I do, I assume you take this episode as further support to your serial-killer idea in regard to your series."

"It stands to reason. It was just yesterday morning that I told the victim about the Queens cases and suggested he look into employees who had transferred from Saint Francis to the General. He left me a voice message during the night, saying that he'd come up with some potential suspects, whom he was going to approach."

"Are the police actively involved?"

"Most definitely. Detective Lou Soldano is here right at this moment, talking to his people over at the hospital."

"I think it would be inappropriate for you to do the post."

"It never crossed my mind. Jack is on his way in."

"Jack's not on second call."

"I know. I thought that not only could he do the autopsy, but he could lend me some needed moral support."

"Okay, that's fine," Calvin said. "Are you sure you want to stay? I could have someone take your place for the weekend. I imagine this is rather a shock."

"It's a shock, but I prefer to stay."

"That's your call, Laurie, and I won't force the issue. At the same time, I have to be clear about the stand of the OCME in regard to your series. As I said before, we are not in the speculation business. There's no proof any of these patients of yours are homicides. Are we on the same page, Laurie? I have to be sure, because I don't want you going to the media. There's too much at stake here."

"There was another case for my series this morning," Laurie said. "A healthy thirty-seven-year-old woman. That makes eight at the Manhattan General alone."

"Numbers are not going to sway me, Laurie, and they shouldn't sway you. What would sway me is if John came up with something toxicological. I'll see if I can put some pressure on him on Monday to redouble his efforts."

A lot of good that is going to do, Laurie thought dejectedly, knowing how much effort had already been expended.

"What else is going on?" Calvin asked. "You implied there was something more."

"There is," Laurie admitted. "I wouldn't have bothered you about it, but since I have you on the line, I might as well inform you." Laurie went on to tell the story about the two teenage boys. When she got to the end, she mentioned the media people in the lobby and then added, "I would like permission to inform them about my findings on these two cases. I believe it is in the public interest for this information to get out sooner rather than later, in hopes of discouraging kids from doing it again in the future."

"Are the media people aware of the headless corpse?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

"If you talk with them, will you be able to restrain yourself from talking about the headless corpse or your series? They'll undoubtedly ask you."

"I believe so."

"Laurie, it's either yes or no."

"Okay, yes!" Laurie voiced with some impatience.

"Don't get testy with me, Laurie, or I'm not going to allow you to talk with any media."

"Sorry! I'm a little stressed."

"You can talk to the media about the subway incident, provided you emphasize your findings are a preliminary impression pending further study. I want you to say that specifically."

"Yes, fine, okay," Laurie said, eager to get off the line. Suddenly, she was tired of talking with Calvin, as he was a constant reminder of the political side of being a medical examiner.

When Laurie finally hung up, she turned around to face Lou, who'd also completed his calls. She inwardly winced with a sudden sharp pain in her lower right abdomen. Luckily, it was a far cry from what she had experienced in the taxi the evening before, but it got her attention nonetheless.

"Jack's coming in," Laurie said. She changed her position to relieve the pain. It did to some degree, but not completely. "He'll do the post on the headless corpse."

Lou nodded. "I overheard. It's a good call, because there's no way you should do it. I also overheard about your plan to talk to the newsmen downstairs. I can help you out by talking to them about the headless corpse while you stick to the subway accident. That way, you'll stay out of trouble with Calvin."

"Sounds like a good plan," Laurie said. She stood up, and the pain lessened.

"And I have to tell you that I already found out something very interesting. This Dr. Najah has a sheet. He was arrested four years ago trying to board a plane to Florida with a pistol in his briefcase. Of course, he claimed it was an accident and that he had forgotten it was in there, and he did have a license for it."

"Was it a nine-millimeter?"

"It was."

"Interesting!" Laurie placed her hand on her hip so that she could use her fingers to surreptitiously massage her abdomen. Similar to that morning, the maneuver was almost immediately curative.

"And something else," Lou said. "Before he retrained as an anesthesiologist, he'd been a surgeon."

"My word," Laurie said while picturing the neatly cut ends on the corpse where the head and hands had been removed.

"We're going to pull him in for a few days and have a couple of our more experienced interrogators have a crack at him. We're also going to get a search warrant and see if we can't come up with that nine-millimeter he was trying to take to Florida."

"Sounds like a very good idea to me," Laurie agreed.