Two of the more senior medical examiners, Kevin Southgate and Arnold Besserman, were sitting in the two brown vinyl club chairs, deep in conversation. Both waved to Laurie without interrupting their dialogue. Laurie waved back. She noticed that Vinnie Amendola was not in his usual spot, hiding behind his newspaper. She approached the desk where Riva was busy reviewing the cases that had come in overnight. Riva looked up, peering at Laurie over the tops of her glasses. Riva smiled. "Did you get more sleep last night?" she asked.
"Not a lot more," Laurie confessed. "I was apartment cleaning until almost two."
"I've been there," Riva said with an understanding chuckle. "What happened at the hospital?"
Laurie told her about the visit and that her mother was doing fine. She talked briefly about her father but didn't mention the BRCA1 problem.
"Jack is already down in the pit," Riva said.
"I guessed as much when I noticed Vinnie wasn't here reading the sports page."
Riva shook her head. "Jack was already in here, rooting around in the cases, when I arrived before six-thirty. That's too early for him to be in here. It's pathetic. I told him to get a life."
Laurie laughed. "That must have gone over well."
"I also told him about your mom. I hope that was okay. He had asked where you had gone yesterday afternoon. Apparently he'd come by our office just after you'd left for the hospital and I had gone down to talk with Calvin."
"That's fine," Laurie said. "Now that I've been told, it's no secret."
"I hear you," Riva said. "I can't understand why your mother wouldn't want to confide in you. Anyway, Jack was taken aback; I could tell."
"Did he say anything in particular?"
"Not about your mom. He was quiet for a few minutes, which is not like Jack."
"What kind of case is he doing?" Laurie asked.
"An ugly one," Riva said. "He is amazing; I have to give him credit. The more difficult the case, whether emotionally or technically, the better he likes it. This one was particularly troubling from an emotional point of view. It was a four-month-old infant that had been abraded all over its little body, then brought into the ER, dead. The ER personnel were in an uproar of indignation, since the parents tried to say they had no idea what had happened. The police were called, and now the parents are in jail."
"Oh, God!" Laurie voiced with a shudder. Despite thirteen years as a medical examiner, she still had trouble doing children, especially infants and abuse cases.
"I was in a muddle when I read the investigative report," Riva admitted. "There was no question the child had to be posted, but there wasn't anyone I disliked enough to assign it to."
Laurie tried to laugh because she knew Riva was joking, but she only managed a smile. Riva liked everyone and vice versa. Laurie also knew that Riva would have taken the case herself, had Jack not volunteered.
"Before Jack went downstairs, he mentioned another case," Riva said as she searched through the files before holding one up. "He said he'd had his usual informal tete-a-tete with Janice on his way in, and that she had told him there'd been a case of another young adult at the Manhattan General strikingly similar to McGillan's. He said that you would probably want it, and that I should assign it to you. Are you interested?"
"Absolutely," Laurie said. Her brows knitted as she took the folder. She opened it and rifled through the pages to find the investigative report. The patient's name was Darlene Morgan, age thirty-six.
"She was the mother of an eight-year-old," Riva said. "What a tragedy for the child."
"My word," Laurie voiced as she skimmed the report. "It does sound similar-strikingly similar." She looked up. "Do you know if Janice is still here?"
"I haven't the faintest idea. She was when I passed the PA's office, but that was before six-thirty."
"I think I'll check," Laurie said. "Thanks for the case."
"My pleasure," Riva said, but she was talking to Laurie's back, because Laurie was already on her way.
Laurie moved quickly. Technically, Janice was off at seven, but she frequently stayed later. She was compulsive about her reports and often could be there as late as eight. It was seven-forty as Laurie passed through the clerical room. A minute later, she leaned into the investigator's doorway. Bart Arnold looked up from his desk. He was on the phone.
"Is Janice still here?" Laurie asked.
Bart hooked his thumb over his shoulder to point into the depths of the room. Janice's head popped out from around a monitor. She was sitting at the desk in the far corner.
Laurie walked in and grabbed a chair. She pulled it over to Janice's desk and sat down. She waited until Janice finished a strenuous yawn.
"Sorry," Janice said when she had recovered. She used a knuckle to wipe under her eyes; they were watering.
"You're entitled," Laurie said. "Was it a busy night?"
"Volume-wise it was the usual. Nothing like the night before, although there were a couple of heartbreakers. I don't know what's getting into me. I didn't used to be so sensitive. I hope it's not affecting my objectivity."
"I heard about the infant."
"Can you imagine? How can people be like that? It's beyond me. Maybe I'm getting too soft for this job."
"It's when you stop being affected by such cases that you have to worry."
"I suppose," Janice with an exhausted sigh. She straightened herself up in her chair as if pulling herself together. "Anyway, what can I do for you?"
"I've just scanned your report on Darlene Morgan. The case strikes me as being disturbingly similar to that of Sean McGillan."
"That's exactly what I told Dr. Stapleton when I ran into him this morning."
"Is there anything you can tell me that's not in here?" Laurie said, waving the report in the air. "Like any impressions you might have gotten while talking to the people involved, like the nurses or the doctors or even the family members. You know, a step beyond the facts. Something that you sensed intuitively."
Janice kept her brown eyes glued to Laurie's while she thought. After a minute, she shook her head slightly. "Not really. I know what you mean, kind of a subliminal impression. But nothing came to mind. It was just another hospital tragedy. An apparently healthy, young-to-middle-aged woman whose time was up." Janice shrugged. "When someone like that suddenly dies, it certainly makes you realize we are all living on the edge."
Laurie bit her lip while she struggled to think of what else she should ask. "You didn't talk to the surgeon, did you?"
"No, I didn't."
"Was it the same surgeon who operated on McGillan?"
"No, there were two different orthopedic guys involved, and my impression from the resident was that both are held in high regard."
"It seems that both patients died at about the same time in the morning. Did that seem strange to you?"
"Not really. In my experience, that two-to-four-A.M. time frame is quite popular for deaths to occur. It's my busiest time during my shift. A doctor one time suggested to me it had something to do with circadian hormone levels."
Laurie nodded. What Janice was saying was probably true.
"Dr. Stapleton told me that you did the post on Sean McGillan. Is the reason you are asking these questions because you didn't find much pathology?"
"I found none," Laurie admitted. "What about anesthesia? Any similarities there, like the same personnel or same agents?"