Peter Clement - Mortal Remains

All they would need was one trace of human DNA from the soil and they would have him. But they’d have to get it clandestinely. The minute Braden suspected anyone digging soil samples, he’d have lawyers by the carload sealing up the place.

He glanced over at Lucy. She rode with her face turned away from him. He had to hand it to her, she had quite a talent with spreadsheets. Braden must have figured no one would ever notice the discrepancy with the numbers. Certainly he, Mark Roper, coroner, hadn’t, and wouldn’t be planning to head off in the middle of the night with a pick and shovel if she hadn’t pointed the way.

One thing he hadn’t shared with her, had been trying not to think of at all – the similarity in the attack on Nell and – No, he wasn’t going to even consider that. Couldn’t!

They made the rest of the trip without talking.

As they passed the pay phone near his house, she said, “Maybe you should don your coroner’s hat, phone the friendliest judge you know to get a warrant. Violating the rights of a derelict lawn shouldn’t be too much of a hurdle for American justice. If we do find anything, we’ll want to be able to use it in court.” She gave him a weak smile. “See, I’m learning. Then you and I are going to have a bowl of soup – something UN soldiers in Bosnia told me was a necessity for this kind of detail.”

He could imagine. Rule number one: Never spend a cold night digging for bodies without something hot on your stomach.

He pulled over and made a call to a semi retired judge living in a cottage nearby who had once known his father.

“Any luck?” Lucy called from the Jeep when he hung up.

“The guy agreed – promised he’d get the paperwork to me tomorrow,” he yelled back to her, holding the door to the booth open as he dialed the nursing desk for Earl’s floor at NYCH. “If anyone bothers us tonight, we’re digging for worms – Oh, hello, it’s Dr. Mark Roper. Is Dr. Garnet awake?”

“Awake! He’s a one-man, all-night vigil.”

“Plug in his phone. I want to call through. It’s urgent.”

In a matter of minutes he’d told Earl everything that had happened – the explosion, Nell, the conversation he’d had with the woman who worked at Nucleus Laboratories, and that what Victor had found seemed mostly to do with the executive health plans of big corporations. “At least that’s what upset the lady who called. Victor had also zeroed in on some genetic screening results he thought were peculiar, but she couldn’t see anything wrong with them.”

“Who were they of?”

“Siblings with a family history of cancer. They apparently were all negative.”

Earl immediately triaged the rest of the information into a series of succinct questions.

“You’ve still no idea who owns Nucleus Laboratories?”

“No.”

“Any ideas about how to track down your caller and this file she has?”

“Not yet. Haven’t had a chance to even think of it.”

“And Nell never said what she’d remembered.”

“No, chances are there never was anything to tell. She could have said that just to get a visit.”

“So we’ve got nothing.”

“Not exactly. I think my phone’s tapped.”

“What?”

“So no more calls to the house, and cell phones are out.”

“Jesus Christ!”

“And I got a pretty good idea what was going on at Braden’s maternity center and the home for unwed mothers.” He spent the next few minutes outlining the implications of the statistics his father had kept, and went on to describe his library encounter with Charles and the hall of shame.

“Mother of God!” Earl muttered at the end of the story. “That’s so monstrous it’s unbelievable.” After a few more seconds, he added, “It could have been why Kelly was murdered, if she found out.”

“Exactly.”

“Unfortunately, that expands the list of suspects,” Earl continued, still sounding incredulous. “We’d have to add Charles, and it could still be Chaz, defending his father. Hell, we might even have to think of Mrs. Charles Braden, wherever she is these days. No one’s brought her up, but I remember a rather fierce woman who, back then, certainly seemed capable of taking extreme measures against anyone who threatened her husband. But it’s astute work, Mark. Excellent, in fact.”

“Oh, it wasn’t me. Lucy figured it out-”

“Who’s Lucy?”

That’s right. Earl didn’t know about her. “The wonderful Lucy? She’s this miracle resident who’s descended into my life and become my right hand at work, who also makes great soup…”

As he heaped praise on her, giving her credit for having cracked the secret of his father’s files, he opened the doors of the booth again to let her hear. Her cheeks flushing crimson, she waved him to keep quiet from the rolled-down window on her side of the Jeep.

The silence at the other end of the line was total.

“What’s the matter, Earl?”

“I hope you didn’t tell her about me and Kelly.”

“No, of course not.”

The silence continued.

“What?” Mark asked.

“Did you check her out?”

“She’s all right, I promise you.”

“The casualty rate among people who might have helped us has tripled in the last twenty-four hours. At best she’s bad luck. You be careful. My advice is turn over everything you’ve found out to the local sheriff and let him handle it. Don’t go doing anything stupid on your own, hear me?”

11:04 P.M.

New York City Hospital

Earl’s pulse leapt to triple digits as he watched the cardiac monitor the nurses had provided. Though at the moment the pattern indicated a fast but normal heartbeat, the result of his own anxiety and responsible for the boxing-glove effect, nasty-looking runs of extra squiggles occasionally popped up. Diagnostic possibilities of what they could be the precursors to ran through his head, and a cold sweat crept over his skin again.

He averted his eyes and settled himself back down. Better keep his imagination in check if he had any hope of toughing this out and catching a killer.

Yet he continued to worry. First about the arrival of this resident, Lucy, on the scene. As much as he liked Mark, the guy jumped to conclusions and rushed to judgment about people, for better or worse. His resentment of Chaz had almost led him to exclude other suspects since the beginning of the case. Then he’d been ready in an instant to label Samantha’s doings with Kelly as Munchausen by proxy syndrome. What if this time he’d gotten it wrong the other way around, and mistaken a serpent for an angel? He was lonely enough to be a mark for any intelligent, half-decent-looking female. From the way he babbled on about her, he’d been smitten, which meant she could lead him by the nose. What if she were in cahoots with someone who wanted to sabotage the investigation, or worse, lure Mark into danger? And now, apparently thanks to this woman’s helpful interpretation of Cam Roper’s old files, Mark was chasing a crazy idea that Charles Braden could have been involved in some bizarre scheme involving mass infanticide. At first, he had to admit, when Mark told him, he’d been shocked into at least considering it, but then when he learned its source… “Jesus!” he said out loud, his bad feeling about her growing worse by the second.

A fluttering sensation in his chest alerted him to a new round of palpitations, and he lay still, inhaling, exhaling, and getting frustrated as hell.

Tanya slipped in to check on him at eleven as promised.

“All’s well,” he lied, grateful that his tracing on the monitor happened to be going through a quiet spell.

She left looking as concerned as ever.