S Bolton - Sacrifice

Someone stood in your bedroom. Watched you while you were asleep. Some kind of joke!

I scribbled my name on a third and a fourth timesheet. I can't say for certain that I read them.

They entered your house without breaking any windows, forcing any doors. Sound like an ordinary prankster to you?

I put down my pen and looked at my case again.

Can't hurt, can it, to rule Kirsten out once and for all?

I pulled the black and white films from the cardboard file and placed them on top of white paper on my desk. There was a noise outside, someone walking past in the corridor. I got up, meaning to lock the door, and found my office keys weren't in my handbag. Leaving keys at home is hardly a first for me so, thinking nothing of it, I took a spare set from the desk drawer and used them. Sitting back down again, I looked at the X-ray. It was what is known as a panoramic radiograph, showing every tooth present in the mouth.

Permanent dentition consists normally of thirty-two teeth and one of the first rules in studying dental radiographs is to count. There were thirty-one: fifteen uppers, sixteen lowers, only two molars in the upper right quadrant rather than the more usual three. There was what looked like a crown in the upper left quadrant; also a malformed root above one of the pre-molars in the upper right quadrant. Unlike all the other roots, this one had a distinctive distal curvature. Most of the teeth were regular, but there seemed to be a significant space in the bottom right-hand side, between the first and second pre-molar. Not big enough to suggest a missing tooth, just a gap that would be barely noticeable when she smiled. Several of the back teeth had been filled. I was no dentist, but I was pretty certain I'd be able to make an intelligent comparison of these films with any others that might be relevant.

The phone rang. It was the secretary whom several of the doctors share, with a call waiting from Dana Tulloch. I asked her to tell Dana I was still in theatre and would get back to her later.

Glancing once more at my door even though I knew it was locked, I found the hospital's intranet site and tried to access the dental department. And found myself tripped at the first hurdle. As a consultant I have access to pretty much the entire site, but the dental unit politely requested a password. I thought about ringing the hospital's IT department but I was willing to bet all requests for new information had to be cleared by Gifford first. I got up and crossed to the window. His BMW was still in the car park. I took a puce-coloured folder from my cupboard and tucked the X-ray inside it. Then I left the room.

The recently opened NHS dental unit is in a separate building within the hospital complex, just a short walk away. I was still wearing my scrubs and I made sure my consultant's badge was visible just above my right-hand jacket pocket. What I wanted was a not- terribly-bright-or-interested dental nurse.

I pushed through the double doors and forced my best smile on to my face. The nurse/receptionist looked up. The name on her badge said Shirley. She didn't smile back or look at all pleased to have a visitor.

'Hi! We haven't met. I'm Tora Hamilton.' I held up my badge and waited until I'd felt sure she'd read it. 'Obstetrics,' I added, somewhat unnecessarily. Then I looked at her with what I hoped came across as polite interest. Are you new too?'

She nodded. 'Just three months,' she responded in a Shetland accent. So far, so good.

I leaned forward, trying for a friendly, confidential manner. 'The thing is, I've got a bit of an embarrassing problem.'

Suddenly, she looked interested.

'My predecessor left my office in a bit of a shambles and I'm trying to sort it out. I've just come across what appear to be dental records, but no indication of whom they might belong to. Now, I don't want to get Dr McLean into trouble, what with him just retired and everything, but these things shouldn't just be left around, should they? They're confidential?'

She nodded. 'Aye, they are.'

'The thing is, I have an idea whose they might be. If we could just check, I can leave them with you, you can file them where they belong and the problem's over with.'

'Isn't there a name on the X-rays?'

I tried to look as though I hadn't thought of that and pulled the film out. There was a code on the bottom that I recognized as belonging to the morgue but I felt pretty sure that Shirley wouldn't spot it.

'Whose did you think they might be?' she asked.

'Kirsten Hawick's. She's a patient of yours.'

'Thing is, we're about to close for the evening. Can you come back in the morning and see Dr McDouglas?'

I shook my head, looking sorrowful. 'I'm going to be in surgery all day,' I said, which was a big lie. The only place I planned to be the next day was in bed; exactly where I hadn't quite figured out. 'I guess we're just going to have to do this officially. God, the paperwork. For you as well, I'm afraid. Ah well, have a good time tonight. I guess you have plans?'

I started to turn away.

'You can call up the records yourself, you know. If you have a computer, that is.'

I turned back. 'I know, but I haven't got all my passwords sorted out yet. Too busy learning the ropes. I called the IT department before I came here but I think they'd all gone home for the evening.'

'Wouldn't surprise me,' she said, looking sympathetic. Then she appeared to have a brainwave. 'Is all you need the password then?'

I tried to look puzzled. 'I guess,' I said. 'Do you know it?'

'Sure,' she said and scribbled something down. Willing myself not to snatch, I reached out and took the Post-it note. I read what she'd written and then looked at her for confirmation. She smiled.

'Dr McDouglas's favourite film.'

'Mine too,' I replied, not entirely untruthfully. I thanked her and left.

Back in my office, I wasn't sure whether I was terrified at what I'd done or delighted by my own cleverness. Shirley would almost certainly tell her boss what had happened. Even if it didn't get back to Gifford, I could face some pertinent and difficult-to-answer questions from Dr McDouglas.

Did I really want to go on with this? So far, I hadn't done anything wrong. Granted, I'd tricked a junior colleague into giving me information I shouldn't have, but I hadn't used it. I could always claim I'd had second and better thoughts and would probably get away with it.

My screen still showed the homepage of the dental department. I typed in Terminator and waited. Then I was in. I found patient records and typed in Kirsten Hawick.

There was nothing there.

Huge relief. And a tiny but rapidly growing seedling of frustration.

I thought for a bit. Kirsten hadn't been married that long when she died. Maybe she hadn't got round to changing her name on all her records. I typed in Kirsten Georgeson and there she was: details of her age, address, brief medical history, records of her visits, invoices for non-NHS treatment. And her X-rays.

The comparison wasn't as easy as I'd expected, as the format was different. The X-ray taken during the post mortem was just one film scanning from one side of the mouth to the other. Those produced during dental appointments tend to be taken in sections from inside the mouth. I had six small X-rays to compare to one large one. I started off in the top left corner, the section that I guessed would be easiest to distinguish. I was looking for a crown. Nothing.

Then I tried the bottom right corner for a small gap. Next, I tried to count the teeth. That was tricky due to the overlapping of teeth on more than one shot. It didn't really matter, though. I was as sure as I could be, without having a dentist sitting next to me, that the X-ray taken of the corpse didn't match the dental records of Kirsten Hawick. I'd known already, of course, but now even Dana would have to accept defeat. It wasn't her.