Robin Cook - Marker

"Well, I better get cracking here," Jack said as he detached the camera from the tripod. "This child was maimed by the circumstances of poverty, not abuse. I've got to get her parents out of jail. Keeping them there is like adding insult to injury."

Laurie made her way over to where Marvin was aligning the gurney next to one of the autopsy tables, trying not to dwell on her disappointment about Jack's blithe repartee and apparent mind-set. She also couldn't help but wonder if Jack's case was another preternatural hint to remind her that things were not always quite what they seemed at first glance.

"Did you have some trouble?" Laurie asked Marvin as the two techs moved the body onto the autopsy table. Marvin positioned the head on a wooden block.

"A slight hitch," Marvin admitted. "Mike Passano must have written down the wrong compartment number. But with Miguel's help, we found the body in short order. Any special requests for this case?"

"It should be straightforward," Laurie said as she checked the accession number and name. "In fact, I hope it turns out to be a mirror image to the first case we did yesterday." Marvin shot her a perplexed glance as she started the external exam.

Laurie's trained eye began recording her observations. The body was that of a Caucasian woman in her mid-thirties with brunette hair in a normal distribution who appeared to have been in good health, although slightly overweight, with extra adipose tissue across her abdomen and on the lateral aspect of her thighs. Her skin had the usual pallor of death and was lesion-free, save for a few innocuous nevi. There was no cyanosis. There was no evidence of recreational drug use. There were two freshly sutured incisions on the lateral surfaces of her left knee and no signs of inflammation or infection. A capped-off intravenous line ran into her left arm, with no extravasations of blood or fluid at the site. An endotracheal tube that was correctly positioned in her trachea protruded from her mouth.

So far, so good, Laurie said to herself, meaning the external exam was comparable with Sean McGillan Jr.'s. She took the scalpel offered by Marvin and began the internal portion. She worked quickly and intently. The activity in the rest of the room receded from her consciousness.

Forty-five minutes later, Laurie straightened up after tracing the veins in the legs up into the abdominal cavity. She had found no clots. Other than several insignificant uterine fibroids and a polyp in the large intestine, she had found no significant pathology and certainly nothing that would have explained the woman's demise. Exactly like McGillan, she would have to wait for the microscopic and the toxicological if she was going to find a cause of death.

"A clean case," Marvin commented. "Just like you wanted."

"Very curious," Laurie said. She felt vindicated. She looked around the room, which had practically filled during her intense concentration. The only table that wasn't in use was immediately adjacent to where Jack had been working. Apparently, he'd finished and left without so much as a word. Laurie wasn't surprised. It seemed consistent with his recent behavior.

At the table on the other side of hers, Laurie thought she recognized Riva's diminutive frame. When Marvin went out into the hall to get a gurney, Laurie stepped over to check. It was Riva.

"Interesting case?" Laurie asked.

Riva looked up. "Not particularly, from a professional point of view. It's just a hit-and-run on Park Avenue. She was a tourist from the Midwest, and she was holding on to her husband's hand when she was struck. He was only a step ahead of her. It always amazes me pedestrians aren't more careful in this city, considering how fast the traffic moves. How about your case?"

"Extremely interesting," Laurie said. "Almost no pathology whatsoever."

Riva looked at her officemate askance. "Interesting and no pathology? That doesn't sound like you."

"I'll explain later. Meanwhile, do I have another case?"

"Not today," Riva said. "I thought you could use a little down time."

"Hey, I'm okay. Really! I don't want any special treatment."

"Don't worry. It's a relatively light day. You've got a lot on your plate."

Laurie nodded. "Thanks, Riva," she said, although she would have preferred to keep busy.

"I'll see you upstairs."

Laurie returned to her table, and when Marvin came back with the gurney, she thanked him for his help and said that she was finished for the day. Ten minutes later, after the usual cleaning process, she hung up her moon suit and attached her battery to the charger. Planning on heading to histology and toxicology, she was surprised to see Jack blocking her exit from the storeroom.

"Can I buy you a cup of coffee?" he asked.

Laurie glanced up into his maple-syrup-colored eyes and tried to gauge his mood. She'd had quite enough of his lightheartedness; considering the circumstances, it was ultimately humiliating. Yet there was no impish smirk like he'd worn the previous afternoon when he'd appeared in her office doorway. His expression was serious, almost solemn, which she appreciated, since it was more apropos to what was going on between them.

"I'd like to talk," Jack added.

"I'd love a cup of coffee," Laurie responded. With some difficulty, she tried to reign in her expectations about what Jack had in mind. This seemed to be almost too-appropriate behavior for him.

"We could head up to the ID office or the lunchroom," Jack said. "It's your call."

The lunchroom was on the second floor. It was a loud room with an old-fashioned linoleum floor, bare concrete walls, and a bank of vending machines. At that time in the morning, it would be reasonably crowded with secretarial and custodial personnel on break.

"Let's try the ID office," Laurie suggested. "We should have the place to ourselves."

"I missed you last night," Jack said as they waited for the back elevator.

My word, Laurie thought. Despite her concerns, her hopes of having a significant conversation rose. It was not customary for Jack to admit to his feelings quite so directly. She looked up at his face to make sure he wasn't being sarcastic, but she couldn't tell for certain, since his face was averted. He was absorbed in watching the floor indicator above the elevator door. The numbers were decreasing with their typical agonizing slowness. The back elevator was used for freight and moved at a glacial pace.

The door opened, and they boarded the cab.

"I missed you, too," Laurie admitted. Concerned that she was allowing herself to be set up for a fall, she felt embarrassingly self-conscious and now avoided eye contact. From her perspective, they were both acting like a couple of preteens.

"I was a hopeless case on the basketball court," Jack said. "I couldn't do anything right."

"I'm sorry," Laurie said, but then immediately wanted to take it back. It sounded as though she was apologizing, when she was merely sympathizing.

"As I expected, the internal on my case was consistent with SIDS," Jack said to change the subject. It was obvious that he was equally uncomfortable.

"Really?" Laurie said.

"How was yours?" Jack asked as the elevator began its ascent. "When I bumped into Janice, she mentioned it seemed similar to your McGillan case, so I told Riva that you'd probably want it."

"I appreciate it," Laurie said. "I did want it. And you were right. It was exactly like McGillan to an uncomfortable degree."

"What do you mean 'uncomfortable'?" Jack asked.

"I'm beginning to think that your suggestion yesterday about forensics establishing a manner of death opposite to what was expected could be applicable. I'm thinking I might be dealing with homicide, sort of the Cromwell case in reverse. In other words, I might have stumbled onto the work of a serial killer. I can't help but think about some of those infamous health-institution serial murders, particularly the recent one over in New Jersey and Pennsylvania." Laurie did not have the same reservations about mentioning her suspicions to Jack as she had had with Fontworth.