Robin Cook - Marker

Roger would have agonized longer, but luckily he had the series of suspicious deaths to occupy his thoughts. Although he had been curious about them on his own, it was Laurie's commitment to them that had fanned his interest. He'd used the series to foster a relationship with her, and it had worked superbly. As the weeks had gone by, he'd become enthralled with her and began to think that his idea of coming back to the States to salvage some kind of normal life with a new wife, new kids, and the proverbial white picket fence were within his grasp. Then, with a slip of the tongue, disaster had struck. Now he needed the series more than ever as a kind of glue to hold things together. The sooner he got the employee lists she suggested, the better. If he was really lucky and came up with something, he could call her that evening and take it over to her apartment.

Roger used the intercom on the phone to get in touch with Caroline, the most efficient secretary. He asked her to come into his office. Next, he got out the hospital phone directory and looked up the director of the human resources department. His name was Bruce Martin. Roger copied down his extension number, and while he was doing so, Caroline appeared and hovered expectantly in the doorway.

"I need some names and phone numbers over at Saint Francis hospital," Roger called out. His voice reflected his sudden zeal. "I want to talk to the chief of the medical staff and the director of human resources as soon as possible."

"Should I get them on the line," Caroline asked, "or do you want to make the call yourself?"

"Get them on the line!" Roger ordered. "Meanwhile, I'll have a quick chat with our own Mr. Bruce Martin."

As Laurie came through the front door of the OCME office, she glanced at her watch. She was appalled. It was almost noon. The taxi ride from the Manhattan General Hospital had taken an incredible hour and a half. She shook her head. New York could be like that, with all of midtown snarled in traffic like an enormous blood clot. The driver had explained that some major dignitary was in town, although he didn't know whom. Unfortunately, the visit required certain streets to be closed off for the motorcade. As soon as that happened, the entire central portion of the city came to a screeching halt.

Marlene buzzed Laurie in through the main door such that Laurie had to pass the administration area. She was afraid to look through open door, lest Calvin catch sight of her. If she had known she was going to be gone for so long, she would have filled out the two pesky death certificates before she left.

Luckily, the elevator was waiting, so Laurie didn't have to stand fully exposed in the main hall to anyone coming out of administration. As she rode up, she wondered if Roger would follow up on her suggestion and do the detective work she proposed. The more she thought about the idea, the more optimistic she became that it would lead to something. But even if it didn't, it would at least give her the feeling that something was being done about the problem. She didn't even want to think about the individual tragedies that the deaths of young, healthy people in the prime of their lives were causing for their families and loved ones.

Getting off on the fifth floor, Laurie walked quickly down to her office. The door was ajar. Riva was there but on the phone. Laurie hung up her coat and sat down. Centered on her blotter were a series of Post-it notes in Riva's crisp handwriting. Three said merely "Jack came in." Two said "Calvin came in," followed by several exclamation points. The final one said to call Cheryl Meyers.

Hastily, Laurie opened the drawer where she kept the material from her potential serial-killer series and pulled out the McGillin and Morgan folders. From each she took the partially completed death certificates, then reached for a pen. The first certificate was McGillin's, and she positioned the pen over the place on the form where she had to indicate the manner of death. But she hesitated as a mental battle raged between her responsibility of duty as ordered by a superior and her sense of ethics. For her, it was akin to a soldier being ordered to do something that wasn't right, for which he could be held responsible. The only saving grace was that in Laurie's situation, it was not an irrevocable act, and it could be changed. With a sigh, she completed both forms.

At that point, Riva hung up her phone and spun around. "Where have you been? I've tried your cell phone a dozen times."

"I was over at the Manhattan General," Laurie said. She opened her bag, felt around for her phone, took it out, and checked the LCD screen. "Well, that's the explanation why I didn't get your call. I can't seem to remember to turn the blasted thing on. I'm sorry."

"Calvin's been in here twice. I wrote two notes so you'd get the message if you came in when I wasn't here. To say the least, he's not very happy you disappeared."

"I know what it's about," Laurie said as she held up the two death certificates. "This is what he was looking for, so all should be okay."

"I hope so. He was fit to be tied."

"I see Jack stopped by as well."

"That's the understatement of the year. He was here twenty times. Well, that's a bit of an exaggeration. But even he got a little sarcastic with his comments toward the end."

Laurie inwardly groaned. After the effort she'd expended getting Jack to agree to have dinner that night, she hoped her absence hadn't frustrated him enough that he'd call off their date. "Did Jack say what he wanted?"

"No! Just that he was looking for you. As for the last message from Cheryl, she said it wasn't important, but for you to give her a call."

Laurie got up, clutching the two death certificates. "Thanks for being a messenger service. I owe you."

"It wasn't a problem," Riva said. "But out of curiosity, what were you doing over at the Manhattan General for so long?"

"Actually, I spent more time in the taxis than I did at the hospital. But I went over there because I had an idea that might help with my supposed serial-killer series."

"What is it?"

"I'll tell you later. Right now, I'm going to take these death certificates down to Calvin in person to smooth the waters."

"What should I say to Jack if he happens to come by yet again?"

"Tell him I'll be stopping by his office after I see Calvin."

Laurie retraced her steps to the elevator, feeling a twinge of guilt about not sharing her most current problem with Riva. Yet short of the OB office, she knew she didn't want to tell anyone that she was pregnant until she'd told Jack. Of course, she knew that if sharing it with Jack turned out to be as bad as it could possibly be, she might not be sharing it with anyone else.

As the elevator descended, Laurie glanced at the now-completed death certificates. Even though they could be changed, and in her estimation probably would, it still bothered her that she'd been forced to compromise her professionalism by filling them out as she had. It seemed to her that kowtowing to the needs of bureaucracy was not only ethically repugnant but also a disservice to the memory of the victims.

Once in administration, Laurie had to sit on the couch to wait. Calvin's door was closed, and his secretary, Connie Egan, told her the deputy chief was closeted with a police captain. Laurie wondered if it was Michael O'Rourke, Lou's immediate boss, who was an in-law to the Manhattan General mugging victim. While she waited, she thought about what she was going to say to Jack. If he'd been looking for her as hard as Riva had suggested, it was inevitable he'd ask where she'd been. If he were as jealous as Lou suggested, it was not going to help if he learned that Laurie had gone over to see Roger immediately after getting Jack to commit to having dinner. Yet Laurie promised herself that she wasn't going to fall into the trap of lying.