Робин Кук - Genesis

“That’s probably true,” Aria said.

“So, your current goal is to try to find the father.”

“Yes,” she said.

“How are you going to do that?”

“I’m going to start by talking to the coworker who found the body.”

“Who was that?” he asked.

“A social worker named Madison Bryant. The medical-legal investigator on the case said that she and Kera Jacobsen were close friends. My hope is that she’ll know something that could be key.”

“When do you intend to talk to her?”

“Whenever works,” she said. “I’ll see if she’s available tomorrow. If not, then the next day.” She shrugged.

“I’m glad you are involved in this case, Dr. Nichols,” Carl said. “Good luck!”

“Okay,” Aria said. She stood. “I’ll be happy to keep you and Dr. Montgomery informed of any progress. And I understand the publicity issue.”

“And I’ll try to find out if anything is known about any association between cardiac channelopathies and fentanyl,” Carl said. He got to his feet as well. “If I do, I’ll let you know right away.”

“Whatever,” she said. “I’ll be in touch.”

“And I’ll be looking forward to hearing from you,” Carl said.

She hustled down the center of the empty office. The janitors had departed and most of the lights had been switched off. As she waited at the elevators appreciating the silence, she thought back over the short meeting with Dr. Henderson and tried to get past her reflexive dislike of male authority figures. Although a tad weird, the tête-à-tête hadn’t been all that unpleasant. To her the most unusual bit of information was the surprising interest of the medical center’s CEO, Vernon Pierce. Then she remembered telling Dr. Henderson that she wanted to start trying to find Kera’s lover by talking with Madison Bryant tomorrow, yet the more she thought about that idea, the less possible she thought it might be. As a hospital social worker, Madison Bryant most likely would be booked the whole day. Although it was late, Aria suddenly thought it reasonable to give the woman a try and see if she might be available that evening. After fumbling in both side pockets of her white coat, she got out the index card from David Goldberg. Then she took out her phone and punched in Madison Bryant’s number, hoping the woman would be available.

May 8th

7:23 P.M.

When Laurie slid out of the back of the Uber in front of their house on 106th Street, she felt more tired mentally and physically than she could ever remember. So far it had been a fourteen-hour day without a lunch break. The only time she had slowed down was during the MRI, when she had to lie still for an hour. And the day wasn’t over yet. She still had to talk with Jack about two things in particular, as decisions had to be made. The most troubling from her perspective was the disastrous positive breast-cancer screening result. She had been tempted to at least broach the issue with him when he’d popped into her office while she’d been on the phone with the chief of Pathology, but she didn’t, thinking there wasn’t enough time to do it justice. Besides, her mind was in total turmoil, with lots of denial about the situation. The other issue she had to bring up before passing out from exhaustion was the need to get the whole story of his apparently disastrous visit to the Brooks School that morning. In retrospect, she wondered what she had been thinking by asking him to go in her stead. Jack had a lot of good qualities, but discretion and impulse control weren’t among them when it came to a medical issue he cared about. She knew full well that the current indiscriminate prescribing of Adderall was a hot-button issue for him, right up there with vaccination conspiracists. He’d done multiple autopsies on kids who had died because of both problems.

Pausing on the top step of the granite stoop, Laurie turned around to look across the street. From that vantage point she had a good view of the outdoor basketball court that was part of the small neighborhood park that also had a few swing sets, sandboxes, and wrought iron park benches. At that hour the sun, which had yet to set, had disappeared behind the buildings to cause dark shadows, and the LED lighting that Jack had paid to have installed over the court was on. From where she was standing, she could see a game was in progress with the shirts and skins alternately sweeping up and down the court, running from one basket to the other. Although she couldn’t be certain from that distance, she thought she could pick out Jack, who was one of the players not wearing a shirt despite the temperature being somewhere in the fifties.

Laurie shrugged. Jack’s continued playing of street basketball was a passion of his that she didn’t share. She just hoped to heaven that he’d eventually see the light and recognize it wasn’t worth the risk of serious physical injury, which he’d already experienced, requiring knee surgery. With a sigh, she pushed through the front door of their building and began the three flights up to their apartment. The higher she went, the heavier her legs and her soft-sided briefcase felt. It almost seemed as if the stairs were longer and steeper than usual. She hadn’t expected to get home so late, but such was the burden of being the chief of the NYC OCME. That evening, just when she thought she’d wrapped up the calls she had to return after doing the autopsy with Aria Nichols, she’d been informed that one of the new Sprinter Medical Examiner Transport Team vans had been in a serious accident while bringing a corpse back to the morgue. Immediately she’d had to coordinate with Mortuary/Transportation, Legal, Human Resources, and the NYPD. Luckily the OCME drivers were wearing their seat belts, and although hospitalized, were doing well. The same could not be said about the vehicle, and it was lucky that the sole passenger was already dead.

After hanging up her spring jacket in the front hall closet and putting on her slippers, Laurie climbed the flight of stairs leading to the fifth floor. Progressively the family room and the kitchen came into view. It was a peaceful scene with JJ at the table in front of his laptop and Caitlin, their nanny, busy in the kitchen. Every single day Laurie thanked her lucky stars that they had stumbled across Caitlin O’Connell. Without her, life wouldn’t have been the same, particularly after Emma’s autism diagnosis. There was no way that Laurie could have continued her role as chief medical examiner if it hadn’t been for the multitalented Irishwoman.

As Laurie reached the top of the stairs, she could now see and hear that the TV was tuned with low volume to the local PBS station, most likely for Caitlin’s benefit. She now could also appreciate that the couch was empty. Laurie’s eyes swept the rest of the room. Emma was nowhere to be seen and most likely already in bed, pulling on Laurie’s heartstrings. Instantly her self-critical mind questioned what kind of mother she was, leaving in the morning before her child was awake and returning when she was already in bed. Laurie knew other women, even those with neurotypical children, struggled with this same issue as it was one of the female burdens in modern society. That recognition didn’t make it any easier.

“Hello, everyone,” she said with more cheer than she felt. She couldn’t help but again find fault with Jack out on the playground, putting himself at risk rather than spending time with his children.

“Hello, Laurie,” Caitlin called out in her sweet-sounding Irish brogue. “How was your day?”

“It was interesting,” Laurie said in an attempt to be truthful. “Is Emma already in bed?”

“She is indeed,” Caitlin said. “Poor thing was exhausted after having to deal with three therapists and Dorothy.”