“Who, Julie? Who is doing this and why?”
Julie shook her head in frustration. “I don’t know. But somehow William Colchester and Gerald Coffey are involved, I’m sure of it.”
“Yeah? Well, I’m sure of this: if I do anything to help you, I’ll lose my job, and I sincerely doubt I’ll get another.”
“Please, Lucy. You’re my only hope.”
“My opinion? You need to focus on yourself and your family. Romey is coming after you for Shirley’s death and that’s a fact, not an opinion. Somebody has to take the fall for the heparin and it’s going to be you, not Amber. So please, don’t ask me for any favors right now.”
“Why, Lucy?” Julie’s voice cracked. “Why won’t you help us?”
“Because this job is all I have,” Lucy said. “I don’t have a partner, kids, a pet, anything. I run. I read. I play chess. But what I really love, my life’s purpose, my passion, is pathology. You’re asking me to risk everything for something I don’t fully believe. To put myself on the line to support you when I have doubts about your innocence here. Put yourself in my shoes and see if you would do the same.”
Lucy opened the car door and got out. She had nothing more to say.
CHAPTER 44
It was Wednesday morning, the day before Thanksgiving. The kitchen should have been the most active room in the home, but the stove burners were off and the refrigerator mostly empty. Paul sat at the kitchen table drinking coffee Julie had brewed for him. Trevor was in his bedroom, packing his bags and preparing for a lengthy stay with his father. With all that had happened, Julie could not deal with meal preparation, hosting, or even being with others. The turkey would stay put in the freezer until she got around to thawing and cooking it.
Everyone who had been invited to Julie’s home for the Thanksgiving meal made other arrangements, including Julie’s mother, who made no secret of her worry and concern.
“I’m fine, honest, Mom,” Julie said to her mother, one of the few people who still called the landline. “Everything will get cleared up. Just give it time. Okay?”
Julie must have had this conversation with her mother half a dozen times since her ouster from White only a day ago. She might have sounded convincing, but it was not exactly how she felt. Worry lingered about how the investigation into Shirley Mitchell’s death would ripple through all facets of Julie’s life and how it would impact her son.
As if her thoughts had summoned him, Trevor lumbered out of the bedroom with his overnight bag slung across one shoulder. “I’m all set,” he announced.
Julie did not believe in keeping secrets, and had told Trevor what had happened to her at White and how the incident was under investigation.
Trevor took the news in stride. “I’ve seen you at work, Mom,” he’d said. “I know you wouldn’t do anything to harm that woman on purpose.”
I didn’t harm her at all, Julie thought.
No point being defensive. Julie thanked Trevor for his support. What she needed now was a way to prove him right. She did not question that heparin had entered Shirley Mitchell’s blood, but how did the drug get there?
Julie was not the only one suffering. Jordan felt despondent over his predicament and Julie’s. They had spoken by phone, but had not met in person. During their conversation, they agreed-without Lucy’s support, their investigation was at a complete standstill.
Trevor had forgotten something in his room, and went back to retrieve it.
“You sure you don’t want to join us tomorrow night?” Paul asked.
“I feel terrible saying it, but I’d rather be alone. Just not feeling up to any company.”
The apartment buzzer sounded and Julie’s heart jumped. She went to the intercom.
“Who is it?”
A gruff voice responded, “Detective Richard Spence and Detective Howard Capshaw of the Boston PD. We’d like to have a word with you, if we may.”
Paul rushed over. “Not without a lawyer,” he whispered in Julie’s ear.
Julie returned an annoyed look to tell him she could handle this. “Yes, please come up.”
Paul glared at Julie. “Are you crazy?” he said.
“No, I’m innocent. I’ve done nothing wrong and I have nothing to hide. I don’t need a lawyer when I have the truth.”
“For a brilliant doctor, you’re acting pretty naïve. These guys don’t care about the truth. They care about closing cases, and they’ll do whatever they can to trap you.”
“Thank you for your concern, Paul,” Julie said. “I promise to be careful.”
A moment later came a knock on the door. Julie checked the peephole and saw both men flash official-looking badges. Introductions took place after Julie opened the door for them. Spence was thin with graying hair and a hard-bitten face. Capshaw had a bit more heft, less gray in his thinning hair, but like Spence had a hard-bitten face with a ruddier complexion. Both wore suits and neither had smiles.
“Thanks for meeting with us,” Spence said.
“Thanks for the surprise visit,” Paul said with sarcasm.
“Paul, why don’t you help Trevor get his things together? I’ll see the detectives to the living room, and then I’ll see you both out. Detectives, if you’ll come with me.”
Paul huffed his displeasure, while Julie escorted the two detectives into the living room. She offered them coffee or water, which they declined. She left them there and went to say her good-byes to Trevor.
“Be good to your dad,” she said. “I’ll take care of Winston, and I’ll see you soon.”
Trevor was anxious. “What are the cops doing here, Mom?” he said in a low voice.
“It’s nothing, honey,” Julie assured him. “They just have to ask some questions, that’s all.” She ruffled Trevor’s long hair, and crouched to look him in the eyes. “I love you, sweetheart. Everything is going to be just fine. Trust me.”
A tickle of doubt made Julie wonder if she had just told him a lie. Trevor had a hard time looking his mother in the eyes, probably because she would see how anxious he was feeling. Trevor left with an extra-long hug that brought a lump to Julie’s throat.
Julie returned to the living room to find Detective Spence there, milling about, checking things over, looking in places she had not invited him to look. Detective Capshaw was not in the room, but entered from the hall. It was likely he’d been examining the rest of the apartment. Julie mulled this over and regretted not taking Paul’s concerns more seriously.
Capshaw and Spence took seats on the sofa while Julie pulled up a chair. Spence took out a notebook.
“It’s not often the same person is connected to two different murder investigations,” he began.
No friendly smile there, no glint in the eye: this detective had elevated the stone-faced look to an art form.
“Regarding Sherri, I don’t really know what to say other than what I told the detectives I spoke with. I believed, and still do, that William Colchester had something to do with Sherri’s murder.”
Capshaw said, “Yeah? I read that in the report. So did Colchester inject Shirley Mitchell with whatever it was that killed her?”
Unlike Spence, Capshaw sported a crooked smile. Julie thought of a cat toying with a cornered mouse. In that moment, Julie hated everything about these detectives. Their air of superiority and smugness, evocative of Dr. Coffey, made it clear that these two were hardly on her side. Julie launched into an explanation of events the way she understood them. The detectives took careful notes.
“Let’s go through this one more time,” Spence said, a friendlier look on his face, as though trying to clear hostility from the air. “You injected the deceased, Shirley Mitchell, with a syringe filled with-” Spence glanced at his notebook. “-herapin, and that’s what caused her to bleed to death.”