Tess Gerritsen - Ice Cold

“That alone can kill you?” said Detective Pasternak. “Just doing an autopsy on a poisoned corpse?”

“Potentially it can, if you’re exposed to a lethal dose. Organophosphates work by inhibiting the enzyme that breaks down a neurotransmitter called acetylcholine. The result is that acetylcholine accumulates to dangerous levels. That causes nerve impulses to fire off like crazy throughout the parasympathetic nervous system. It’s a synaptic storm. The patient sweats and salivates. He loses control of his bladder and bowels. His pupils constrict to pinpoints, and his lungs fill with fluid. Eventually, he’ll start convulsing and lose consciousness.”

“I don’t understand something,” said Sheriff Fahey. “Dr. Gruber got sick within half an hour of starting that autopsy. But the coroner’s recovery team dug up forty-one of those corpses, put them in body bags, and moved them into an airport hangar. None of those workers ended up in the hospital.”

Dr. Draper, the county coroner, spoke up. “I have a confession to make. It’s a detail that was reported to me yesterday, but I didn’t realize it was significant until now. Four members of our recovery team came down with the stomach flu. Or that’s what they thought it was.”

“But no one keeled over and died,” said Fahey.

“Probably because they were working with frozen bodies. And they were wearing protective garb, plus heavy winter clothes. The body in the autopsy room was the first one to be thawed.”

“Would that make a difference?” asked Pasternak. “Frozen versus a thawed corpse?”

Everyone looked at Maura, and she nodded. “At higher temperatures, toxic compounds are more likely to aerosolize. As that body defrosted, it started to release gases. Dr. Gruber probably sped up the process when he sliced it open, exposing body fluids and internal organs. He wouldn’t be the first doctor to fall ill from exposure to toxins in a patient.”

“Wait. This is starting to sound familiar,” said Jane. “Wasn’t there a case like this out in California?”

“I think you’re referring to the Gloria Ramirez case, in the mid-1990s,” said Maura. “That was discussed quite a bit at forensic pathology conferences.”

“What happened in that case?” asked Pasternak.

“Gloria Ramirez was a cancer patient who came into the emergency room complaining of stomach pains. She suffered a cardiac arrest. As the medical team worked on her, they began to feel ill, and several of them collapsed.”

“Was it due to this same pesticide?”

“That was the theory at the time,” said Maura. “When they performed the autopsy, the pathologists donned full protective gear. They never did identify the toxin. But here’s the interesting detail: The medical personnel who collapsed while treating her were successfully resuscitated with intravenous atropine.”

“The same drug used to save Gruber.”

“That’s right.”

Pasternak said, “How sure are you that this organophosphate stuff is what we’re dealing with?”

“It will need to be confirmed by the tox report. But the clinical picture is classic. Gruber responded to atropine. And a STAT blood test showed a significant drop in cholinesterase activity. Again, that’s something you’d find with organophosphate poisoning.”

“Is that enough to say it’s a slam dunk?”

“It’s pretty damn close to one.” Maura looked at the faces around the table and wondered how many of these people, aside from Jane, were ready to trust her. Only days ago, she had been a possible suspect in the shooting of Deputy Martineau. Surely doubts about her still lingered in their minds, even if no one voiced them aloud. “The people who lived in Kingdom Come were most likely poisoned by an organophosphate pesticide,” she said. “The question is, was it mass suicide? Homicide? Or an accident?”

That was met with a sound of disbelief from Cathy Weiss. The social worker had been sitting in the corner as if aware she was not fully accepted as a member of this team, although Detective Pasternak had invited her to attend the briefing.

“An accident?” Cathy said. “Forty-one people are dead because they were ordered to drink pesticide. When the Prophet tells his followers to jump, their only possible response is to ask how high, sir?”

“Or someone could have dumped it in their well water,” said Dr. Draper. “Which makes it homicide.”

“Whether it’s homicide or mass suicide, I have no doubt it was the Prophet’s decision,” Cathy said.

“Anyone could have poisoned the water,” pointed out Fahey. “It could have been a disgruntled follower. Hell, it could have been that Perkins boy.”

“He’d never do that,” said Maura.

“They kicked him out of the valley, didn’t they? He had every reason to get back at them.”

“Oh right,” said Cathy, not bothering to hide her disdain of Fahey. “And then that lone sixteen-year-old boy single-handedly drags forty-one bodies into the field and buries them with a bulldozer?” She laughed.

Fahey looked back and forth at Maura and Cathy, and he gave a dismissive snort. “You ladies obviously don’t know what sixteen-year-old boys are capable of.”

“I know what Jeremiah Goode is capable of,” Cathy shot back.

Pasternak’s ringing cell phone cut off the conversation. He glanced at the number and quickly rose from his chair. “Excuse me,” he said, and left the room.

For a moment there was silence, the tension from the last exchange still hanging in the air.

Then Jane said, “Whoever did it needed access to the pesticide. There must be a record of its purchase. Especially since we’re talking about a large enough supply to kill an entire community.”

“The Plain of Angels compound in Idaho grows its own food,” said Cathy. “They’re a completely self-sustaining community. It’s likely they’d keep this pesticide on hand for farming.”

“Doesn’t prove they’re guilty,” said Fahey.

“They have the poison. They have access to Kingdom Come and its water supply.”

“I’m still not hearing a motive. No reason why Jeremiah Goode would want forty-one of his own followers dead.”

“For a motive, you’ll have to ask him,” snapped Cathy.

“Yeah, well, you tell us where to find him and we’ll do that.”

“Actually,” said Pasternak, “we do know where to find him.” The detective was standing in the doorway, cell phone in hand. “I just got a call from the Idaho State Police. Their contact inside The Gathering reports that Jeremiah Goode has just been spotted inside the Plain of Angels compound. Idaho’s mobilizing for a raid at first light.”

“That’s at least seven hours from now,” said Jane. “Why are they waiting so long to do it?”

“They need enough manpower. Not just law enforcement, but also child protective services and social workers, to deal with the women and children. If they meet up with resistance, it could get dangerous.” Pasternak looked at Cathy. “And that’s where you come in, Ms. Weiss.”

Cathy frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You seem to know more about The Gathering than anyone else does.”

“And I’ve been trying to warn people about them for years.”

“Well, now we’re listening. I need to know how they might respond. Whether they’ll react with violence. I need to know exactly what to expect.” He glanced around the room. “Idaho is requesting our assistance. They want us to be mobilized before sunrise.”

“I can be ready to leave within the hour,” said Cathy.

“Good,” said Pasternak. “You’ll ride with me. Tonight, Ms. Weiss, you are my new best friend.”

THEY DROVE through the night, Pasternak at the wheel, Cathy riding beside him. In the backseat, Jane sat alone. This was to be a police operation, one that Maura could not be part of, and Cathy was the only civilian invited to participate.