With a sigh, Jack got to his feet. There was no doubt Ronnie and Cherine had been the two most fruitful sources so far, and he was certainly glad he’d made the effort to come back here. Yet despite what he’d learned, he couldn’t help but admit that he still didn’t know what he didn’t know. The key issues were going to have to wait until tomorrow, when he hoped to learn from Cherine exactly what statistics had made Sue convinced a serial killer was on the loose, and he’d find out if histology and/or toxicology were going to provide a cause and mechanism for Sue’s death.
Leaving the ED, he headed back toward the main lobby with the hopes he wouldn’t again run into Martin Cheveau or Alinsky or, worse yet, President Schechter. As it was now almost seven, he thought the chances were slim but not impossible. And as he rounded a corner his worst fears were realized. Beyond the crowd waiting for an elevator he caught a glimpse of the hospital president, Cheveau, and several black-suited security guards coming rapidly in his direction. Immediately reversing direction, Jack hustled back toward the ED, fearing that he’d hear his name called out. Thankfully, that didn’t happen, and he was able to exit the ED through its entrance. To avoid another scene, he then hurried around the hospital to retrieve his bike at the front.
Chapter 20
Tuesday, December 7, 7:25 p.m.
After traversing most of a darkened Central Park, Jack exited on the West Side at 106th Street and rode the distance to his brownstone. There he hefted the bike up onto his shoulder and climbed the stoop. When he reached the top, he turned around to gaze wistfully over at the small park across the street with its illuminated basketball court whose lights he’d paid to have installed. A game was in progress, and even from that distance he could make out the identities of a number of the players. He felt a definite tug to join, as he loved to play, but regretfully it wasn’t to be. He had decided on his way home that he was going to do a bit of research that evening on medical serial killers and wanted to get to it in short order. He would have preferred to have Sue’s folder, so he’d be sure to read the specific articles she favored. Obviously he couldn’t, but he guessed he’d be able to find on the internet most of the articles she’d printed out. He was also interested in calling Abby to see if he had any knowledge of Sue’s trials and tribulations at the hospital, and if she had ever spoken of the possibility of a serial killer stalking its halls. He doubted it, though, because Sue had said on several occasions that she had a hard-and-fast rule not to bring home any work-related issues.
Once inside, Jack put his bike in the utility room he’d created when they renovated the building. He hung it by its front wheel next to his son’s bike. Also stored in the room was the sporting equipment that he and JJ used in Central Park on weekends and occasional summer evenings when it stayed light until almost nine. He put his empty backpack in one of the cubbies that lined the opposite wall.
He then started up the stairs. Their apartment occupied the top three floors. On the lower three floors they had fashioned six rental units, which paid most of the expenses of the building, including a sizable portion of the mortgage. Jack considered his buying the mid — nineteenth century structure a number of years ago one of the best decisions of his life. As he climbed, his quadriceps complained because of the exercise from riding the bike all day. Just like that morning, on the way home he’d had the opportunity to aggravate a few very serious bicyclists by challenging them speed-wise as they rode around the northern portion of Central Park.
Once inside the apartment he could hear PBS NewsHour, which Dorothy watched religiously every night. The sound drifted down the open stairway from the fifth floor where the kitchen, dining room, living room, family room, and study were located. The fourth floor, where he was now passing, had the guest suite and Caitlin O’Connell’s apartment. Caitlin was their long-term nanny, whom they adored and couldn’t live without since both Jack and Laurie worked every weekday from early morning until early evening.
As the fifth floor progressively came into view, he saw his mother-in-law parked on the couch in front of the TV. JJ and Emma were sitting at the table with JJ playing Minecraft and Emma watching. It was a reassuring sight, particularly because it was evidence of the great strides Emma was making in dealing with her autism. Her case was still being handled by the board-certified behavior analyst organization that Dorothy had originally found, which was providing daily behavioral, speech, and physical therapy. As Jack neared the top of the stairs, he could see Caitlin in the kitchen, who he guessed was cleaning up after making the kids and Dorothy their evening meal.
“Hi, everybody,” he called out, but only Caitlin returned his greeting. Undeterred, Jack went over to the table to kiss the tops of the children’s heads and give each a hug. Both made an effort to resist contact, as they were concentrating on the structure JJ was making. Jack didn’t take it personally and made it a point not to interfere since he was pleased to see Emma’s concentration and interaction with JJ.
“There’s some pasta in the fridge, if you are interested,” Caitlin called out from behind the kitchen island.
“I think I’ll wait for Laurie,” he responded as he turned his attention to Dorothy. As usual at that time of the day her thin form was clothed in her black velvet robe with matching mules. “Hi, Nana, anything interesting on the news?” he asked in a cheerful tone to make social contact and possibly a bit of conversation.
“This newest Covid variant is spreading like wildfire,” Dorothy said in her high-pitched voice, without taking her eyes off the TV screen. “It’s terrible.” She was always particularly caught up in and enthralled with bad-news stories of any sort.
“It is a very transmissible variant,” Jack said. Then he bit his tongue so as not to add: All the more reason to get the goddamn vaccine. For a beat he waited to see if there would be any more interaction, but, like the children, Dorothy ignored him.
Feeling like he’d at least made an effort at being sociable, he walked down the short corridor and went into the study. He sat down on his side of the used leather-topped partners desk he and Laurie had recently found online and booted up his laptop. While that was in progress, he pulled out his phone and placed a call to Abby. Knowing that the burial was to be that evening, he expected to have to leave a voicemail and was surprised when Abby picked right up.
“I’m glad you called,” Abby said without preamble. “I was just about to call you and apologize for cutting you off earlier this afternoon.”
“No need to apologize,” Jack said. Once again, he was mildly caught off guard. He never expected an apology. “I was hesitant to call, knowing you and the kids would be busy with the burial.”
“We’re all done,” Abby said. “I have to give credit where credit is due. The funeral home was terrific and accustomed to Muslim traditions, which they followed to the letter. I’m glad to say that Sue has already been put to rest, Allah bless her soul. So thank you for releasing her body so quickly.”