Chris Mooney - The Dead Room

The male doctor who came in to examine her looked as if he had just graduated from puberty. MASS. GENERAL HOSPITAL was stitched above the breast pocket of his white jacket. He shone a light in her eyes and started asking her questions.

'What's your name?'

'Darby McCormick.'

'And where do you live, Miss McCormick?'

'Temple Street in Boston.' Her voice felt raw and hoarse. 'The month is August and I know the name of the president. Both my short- and long-term memory are fine.'

The doctor smiled. 'They warned me you'd be a pain in the ass.'

'They?'

'Your friends waiting in the hall.' He clicked off the pen light. 'You've suffered a Grade Three concussion, but you're not exhibiting the more dangerous symptoms – memory loss or vision impairment. The CT scan shows no brain trauma. Your face sustained several lacerations from glass. When you take off the bandages, you're going to see jigsaws of sutures. They'll heal in about three to four weeks. You shouldn't have any scarring.'

'I suffer from SIS.'

'What's that?'

'Shitty Irish Skin,' Darby said. 'I'll definitely have some scarring.'

The young doctor chuckled. 'Well, we can correct that down the road, so don't worry. Are you feeling up for visitors?'

'Absolutely. When can I leave?'

'Probably this afternoon,' he said. 'We shot you up with small doses of Demerol for pain management and to help you sleep. Do you feel nauseous?'

'Oh, yes.' Demerol never agreed with her stomach.

'That should dissipate in a few hours,' he said. 'You'll need someone to take you home. And you'll need to -'

'Stay off my feet, relax, don't push myself, etcetera, etcetera.'

The doctor gave her instructions on how to clean the wounds and promised to write her a prescription for Percocet. After he left, Darby used the hospital phone to call MCI-Cedar Junction, got Superintendent Skinner on the phone and explained where she was and what had happened. Skinner said he could arrange the meeting with Ezekiel for any time during the day; all he needed was an hour's notice. She promised to call him as soon as she left the hospital.

The door opened. She expected to see Coop. Instead, she saw Artie Pine. He pulled up a chair next to her bed.

'You were passed out when I found you,' he said. 'By the time I helped you to the ambulance you were talking, although I'll be goddamned if I could understand what you were saying.'

'What happened to Coop?'

'Who?'

'Jackson Cooper. The forensic guy who looks like David Beckham. You were talking to him when the house exploded.'

'Oh, him. The one with the muscles. Took a hell of a spill but he's fine. The commissioner is here. She's on the phone at the moment. She wants to – in fact, here she is.'

Darby tried to sit up.

'Lay back,' Pine said. 'I'll elevate your bed for you.'

Chadzynski, dressed in one of her utilitarian black power suits, stood at the foot of the bed. Darby's attention was on the man wearing a frumpy tan suit. He had cauliflower ears and a large, ugly nose that had been broken too many times. He leaned on the wall next to the door and looked at her with a humourless, dour expression – a man, she suspected, who preferred working with numbers and statistics to working with people.

'This is Lieutenant Warner,' Chadzynski said. 'When I heard about what had happened, I had him posted outside your room.'

Warner nodded hello.

'Detective Pine told me about the explosion,' Chadzynski said.

'Explosions,' Darby said. 'There were two. First the house and then the crime scene vehicle. The way the house went up, I thought it might have been a gas explosion. No flames, it just blew apart. Then the Explorer went next and I knew it was a bomb – two bombs.'

Chadzynski's normally emotionless face pinched with anger. Or was it fear?

'How many?' Darby asked.

'It's too early to say.'

'Edgar was in the house with his grad students.'

'Yes, I know. They're among the missing.'

'What about Stan Jennings? He's the lead detective from Charlestown.'

Chadzynski looked at Pine.

'I don't know about Jennings,' he said. 'I was on my way to the house when I ran into your forensic partner. I was asking him for an update when the house blew.'

Chadzynski said, 'Detective Pine, would you give us a moment?'

'Sure.' He looked at Darby and said, 'Doc says you can't drive home.'

'I live across the street.'

'No matter, I'll take you.' He patted her hand. 'I'll be waiting outside.'

Chadzynski spoke. 'Thank you for your generous offer, Detective Pine, but I'll take care of the transportation arrangements for Miss McCormick. And I'm sure you're anxious to get back to Belham, cleaned up and back to work.'

Pine looked as if a door had been slammed shut in his face. Darby watched him walk all the way to the door.

Darby reached for the plastic cup of water sitting on the nightstand.

Chadzynski folded her hands behind her back. Warner glanced out of the small window installed in the door, then turned to the commissioner and nodded.

'Lieutenant Warner does a sweep of my office and car two to three times a week to look for listening devices,' Chadzynski said. 'He performed one this morning and found listening devices installed in the panel of my car door.'

'The listening devices are sophisticated,' Warner said in a gravelly voice. 'They turned on and off by remote to save battery power, and have a three-mile listening radius.'

'Mr Warner has some people he trusts going through my office,' Chadzynski said. 'After they've finished, they're going to inspect your office, then the entire lab.'

People he trusts, Darby thought.

She licked her dry lips, looked at Warner and said, 'Who are you?'

Chadzynski answered the question. 'Mr Warner is the head of Anti-Corruption.'

The cops who worked in Anti-Corruption reported directly to the police commissioner. Only Chadzynski knew their identities.

'The news is playing actual footage of the explosion,' Chadzynski said. 'Some TV camera must have been recording. In any event, I had the bomb squad commander examine the footage and they believe the explosions were caused by an IED.'

An improvised explosives device, Darby thought. That made sense – two separate explosions, two separate charges.

'What kind, do we know?'

'The bomb squad says it's too early to say until they've sifted through the debris – they're at the site as we speak,' Chadzynski said. 'However, given the way the house and crime scene vehicle went up, they're in agreement that the IED contained either a plastic explosive, like C-4, or dynamite.'

'I don't think they were timed charges. I think someone was watching the house and detonated them.'

'Maybe it's this mystery man you met in Belham – the one with the brown van.'

'How did you find out?' Darby hadn't filed her report – she hadn't even had time to write it.

'I had Jackson Cooper in my office first thing this morning,' Chadzynski said. 'He brought me up to date. It's his opinion that the area around the house was pretty well sealed off.'

'It was.'

'He also told me a patrolman was placed at the front door. That you asked him and Detective Jennings not to allow any Federal agents inside the house.'

Darby nodded, knowing where Chadzynski was heading, why Lieutenant Warner and his Anti-Corruption squad were now on board.

'I think it's reasonable to assume that the IEDs weren't inside the house when you arrived – or on the crime scene vehicle,' Chadzynski said. 'To gain access to the house, someone either posed as a Boston police officer or was, in fact, an actual officer.'

'I agree,' Darby said. 'Is that why you asked Pine to leave the room?'

'I have no reason to suspect him of anything. It's simply a precautionary measure, but I want to restrict this investigation to people I can trust – you, and Lieutenant Warner. We now have to deal with this additional element, this victim found in the basement of Kevin Reynolds's former home, a Federal agent named Peter Alan who died during Frank Sullivan's boat raid.'