Робин Кук - Genesis

“How is Laurie?” she whispered to avoid bothering Emma and Karen. Her concern for Laurie’s well-being was palpable. “Have you heard?”

“I did talk with the surgeon,” Jack said, also keeping his voice down. “I was told the surgery went well and that Laurie was in the anesthesia recovery area.” He didn’t elaborate, thinking that Laurie could share what she wanted to share.

“That’s a relief,” Caitlin said.

Jack got a bottle of San Pellegrino from the refrigerator and a glass from the cabinet. He poured himself a glassful and then gestured with the bottle toward Caitlin. She shook her head.

Leaning his backside against the kitchen countertop, Jack turned his attention to Emma and Karen. It was apparent that Karen was using the snack as a teaching opportunity, and with great patience was teaching Emma a kind of sign language for the juice and for the cookies. What impressed Jack was that Emma was paying attention and making eye contact. There was no doubt she was making progress, not only with this particular activity but also in general. It was rewarding to see.

“Is this about the time that JJ usually arrives home?” he asked Caitlin, still using a hushed voice.

“It is,” Caitlin said. “The bus drops him off at the corner right around four.”

Jack’s phone buzzed in his pocket. In his haste to get it out, it got caught momentarily in the fabric of his pocket. When he finally got view of the screen, he was pleased. It was a text from Laurie: Just got back to my room. Call when convenient XO.

“It’s Laurie,” he whispered to Caitlin, who responded by giving him a thumbs-up. “I’ll call her from the study,” Jack added.

Still trying not to intrude on Emma and Karen, he tiptoed out of the kitchen and then darted down the hall in his stocking feet into the study. With a few taps he put the call through and was much relieved to hear her voice, even if it was a bit hoarse.

“How are you?” Jack asked with urgency.

“I’ve been better,” Laurie managed. “Sorry about my voice.”

“Not a problem, believe me,” Jack said. “I’m glad to hear it.”

“Where are you? Are you still close by at the OCME?”

“No, I came home to briefly see the kids although JJ has yet to get home from school.”

“And Emma?”

“She’s doing fine,” he said. “I have to give your mother credit. These therapists she’s arranged are doing amazing things. While I watched, Emma was learning to sign for cookies and juice.”

“I’m glad you’re home,” Laurie said. “This morning I could tell that JJ was upset about me having surgery despite his seeming nonchalance. Be sure to reassure him that everything is hunky-dory when he gets home.”

“I’ll be happy to,” Jack said. “How do you feel? Do you have much pain?”

“I feel pretty damn good considering,” she said. “How much of that depends on drugs, I haven’t a clue. I have my own pain med source piggybacked onto my keep-open intravenous line. At the moment it’s mainly my throat that bothers me, probably from the endotracheal tube. Still, it’s minimal and getting better. I also get a twinge from the tiny abdominal incision when I move suddenly or when I cough or laugh. But other than that, I feel good. I’m even hungry if you can believe it, although I’m still being restricted to fluids.”

“Hearing that you’re laughing is music to my ears,” Jack said. “Are you up for a visitor?”

“Of course,” Laurie said. “But it’s not necessary if you want to stay with the kids. I’m doing fine and will be even better when they allow me to eat. I also plan on taking advantage of the sleep meds Dr. Cartier suggested.”

“I want to see you,” he said. “As soon as I get a chance to talk with JJ and maybe even grab a quick bite to eat, I’ll be on my way.”

“If you insist on coming, I want to ask a favor,” Laurie said.

“Sure, anything,” Jack said. “What is it that you want? Did you forget your laptop?”

“No, I have my laptop,” she said. “What I want to ask is that you use a rideshare and don’t ride your bike down here.”

Surprised by this request coming out of the blue, Jack paused before answering. His mode of transportation hadn’t even occurred to him. “Do you really care that much?” he said while he winced at the idea of sitting in a car in stop-and-go rush-hour traffic.

“I always care,” Laurie said with a touch of annoyance. “But I care particularly because I’m stuck in the hospital, and for our kids’ sake I don’t want you to be in here as a patient at the same time, leaving them parentless. Humor me!”

“Okay, okay,” he said. The last thing he wanted to do was to get Laurie riled up in her present condition.

“Thank you,” she said. “It will be one thing less for me to worry about. Now tell me, how did the autopsy go on Aria Nichols and did you talk with Carl Henderson?”

“The autopsy went fine,” Jack said. “Marvin Fletcher lent a hand and remarked that it was a mirror image of the Kera Jacobsen case with very little pulmonary edema.”

“That’s interesting,” Laurie said. “My thought was that Kera Jacobsen died very rapidly, not the somewhat slower death from progressive respiratory depression as seen with most fentanyl overdoses.”

“That was my feeling as well with Aria Nichols,” Jack said.

“I wonder if they both got their drugs from the same source,” Laurie said.

“Well, it seems we are on the same page; that’s my concern, too,” he said. “They could very well have had the same supplier since they both worked for the same organization. I have John up in Toxicology going to let us know if they both had the same fentanyl analogue. I certainly hope we don’t see a flood of overdoses with other medical center personnel.”

“I hope so, too,” she said. “On a happier note, what time can I expect to see you?”

“Why do you ask?” Jack questioned playfully. “Are you going to have to squeeze me in among your flood of visitors?”

Laurie let out a suppressed chuckle. “I told you it hurts when I laugh,” she complained. “But your sarcasm is good to hear. Now you’re sounding like the Jack I know and love.”

“Let’s say an hour from now,” he said, becoming serious. “Is there anything you’d like me to bring?”

“Just your humorous self will be most welcome,” Laurie said. “It will be fun to show you the room they put me in. It really is the height of luxury.”

“I’ll look forward to seeing it,” Jack said. “But mostly I’ll be looking forward to seeing you.”

May 11th

4:10 P.M.

By four o’clock, Carl had finished his last scheduled meeting of the day. Appropriately enough, it involved the first meeting of the Pathology Residency Program Acceptance Committee. The matching results for the NYU Pathology program were released on the third Friday of March of each year, as were all residency matching results for all US academic programs in all specialties. Getting to that point represented the culmination of a lot of work by the committee, who had to review all the applications, interview the prospective residents, and put together the list in the order of preference.

As head of the department, Carl had a seat on the committee. Since the death of one of the program’s third-year residents, Dr. Aria Nichols, was already common knowledge, he had taken the opportunity to speak up about the inappropriateness of her original acceptance. The point he wanted to make was that the committee needed to place as much emphasis on the personality of applicants as they did on medical school grades and graduate medical exams to avoid the kind of problems a resident like Aria Nichols created.