Robin Cook - Vector

Outside of the office of the Chief Medical Examiner Laurie waved as Paul’s car accelerated north on First Avenue. Then she turned and mounted the steps of the blue-glazed brick building. As she entered, she felt vaguely out of sorts, which was not how she’d started the day. Although she and Paul had not had an argument, they’d come close. It had been the first such episode in their wildly romantic relationship. She hoped it wasn’t a premonition of things to come, and that the hint of male chauvinism in his responses didn’t mask outright sexist views.

Laurie crossed the empty waiting area and approached the main interior entrance that led to the first-floor corridor. “Excuse me!” she called out to Marlene Wilson, the African-American receptionist. Laurie needed Marlene to buzz her in.

“Dr. Montgomery! Hold on!” Marlene said when she caught sight of Laurie. “You’ve got some visitors who’ve been waiting for you.”

A middle-aged couple whom Laurie had never seen stood up from one of the waiting room’s vinyl couches. The burly man was in a heavy red-checked wool jacket and needed a shave. He was holding a hunting cap with earmuffs tied over the top. The woman seemed frail. There was a lace collar around her coat. The two looked as if they belonged in a small town in the Midwest. They were plainly intimidated, and exhausted, as if they’d been traveling all night.

“Can I help you?” Laurie asked.

“We hope so,” the man said. “I’m Chester Cassidy and this here is my wife, Shirley.”

Laurie recoiled at the surname, realizing that she was most likely facing the parents of Brad Cassidy. Instantly, the horrific image of the tortured young man she’d posted the day before sprang unbidden into her mind’s eye. She remembered the gouged eye sockets, the huge nail that had been pounded through the boy’s palm, and the naked part of his chest and abdomen where he’d been skinned alive. She shuddered.

“What can I do for you?” Laurie managed to say.

“We understand you are the doctor who took care of our son, Brad,” Chester said. His large, gnarled hands were unconsciously worrying his hat.

Laurie nodded, although “taking care of Brad” was hardly an appropriate euphemism for what she’d had to do.

“We would like to talk to you for a few moments,” Chester added. “Provided you have the time.”

“Of course,” Laurie said, although she wasn’t looking forward to the conversation. Dealing with bereaved parents was not easy for her. “But I’m just arriving at this very moment. You’ll have to give me about fifteen minutes.”

“We understand,” Chester said. With an arm around his wife, Chester retreated to the couch.

Laurie had herself buzzed into the building. Preoccupied with the upcoming meeting with the Cassidy family, she took the elevator up to the fifth floor and went into her office. She hung her coat behind the door. A quick glance at the mound of unfinished folders on her desk made her thankful she’d been steadfast in her decision not to go on the Budapest trip.

Laurie found Brad Cassidy’s folder near the top of the stack. Using her index finger she went through the contents until she came to the identification sheet. She pulled it out. She was curious who had made the ID. The name was listed as Helen Trautman, the deceased’s sister.

Back down on the first floor she took the circuitous route through communications to the ID room. She wanted a bolt of coffee before facing the Cassidys. As she entered, she ran into Jack and Vinnie on their way down to the autopsy room. As usual, they were getting a jump on the day.

“Could we talk for a moment?” Jack asked sheepishly the moment he saw Laurie.

“Can it wait?” Laurie asked. She looked at Jack curiously; sheepishness was hardly one of Jack’s typical behavioral traits. “There’s a couple waiting for me out in the waiting room. I have a feeling they’ve been here for a long time.”

“It’ll only take a second,” Jack promised. “Vinnie, run down and get set up in the autopsy room! I’ll be down in a couple of minutes.”

“Why don’t I just go back to my newspaper?” Vinnie suggested. “I don’t want to be standing down there in the deserted pit twiddling my thumbs. Some of your spontaneous conversations go on for half an hour.”

“Not this time,” Jack said. “Get!”

Vinnie slunk off. Jack watched him go until he was out of earshot. Then he stepped over to Laurie who was helping herself to the community coffee. Jack cast a quick glance at George Fontworth, but he was ignoring them while busily sorting the cases that had come in over the night.

“Where’s the Hope diamond ring?” Jack asked.

Laurie glanced at her naked finger as if she expected the ring to be there. “It’s hidden in the freezer compartment of my refrigerator.”

“On ice, so to speak,” Jack said.

Laurie couldn’t help but smile. Such a comment was much more like the Jack she knew. “I’m not officially engaged,” she said. “I mentioned that last night, in case you don’t remember.”

“I guess not until you tell your parents,” Jack said.

“That and a few other things,” Laurie said.

“Anyway,” Jack stammered. “I wanted to apologize for last night.”

“Apologize for what?” Laurie asked. Apology wasn’t one of Jack’s strong suits either.

“For not being more positive about Paul,” Jack said. “He seems like a nice enough guy, and I’m impressed by you two going to Paris for the weekend. I could never do that in a million years.”

“Is that all you want to say?”

“I guess,” Jack said.

“Then your apology is accepted,” Laurie said matter-of-factly. She tossed back the quarter cup of coffee she’d poured for herself, flashed Jack a quick, fake smile, then headed for the meeting with the Cassidys. She knew Jack was transfixed and probably baffled by her behavior, but she didn’t care. She hadn’t wanted an apology, especially not an insincere one. What she wanted to hear from him was how he felt about her possible plans to marry. But she now knew it wasn’t going to happen, and it frustrated her.

Laurie first checked one of the small side rooms used for relatives during the emotional identification process. In the past, people had to go down to the morgue and view the body, but that was an unnecessarily cruel procedure for individuals still coping with the shock of loss of a loved one. Now Polaroid pictures were used, and it was a lot easier on everyone.

Once Laurie was certain the room was reasonably clean, she went to get the Cassidys. They filed in silently and sat in two of the straight-back chairs. Laurie leaned against the scarred wooden desk. The only other things in the room were a box of tissues, a wastebasket, and several chipped ashtrays.

“Could I get either of you some coffee?” Laurie questioned as a way of introduction.

“I don’t reckon so,” Chester said. He’d taken off his coat. His plaid flannel shirt was buttoned to the neck. “We don’t want to take too much of your time.”

“It’s quite all right,” Laurie said. “We’re really here to serve the public, quite literally. And let me say that I’m very sorry about your son. I’m sure it was a big shock for you.”

“In some ways yes and in some ways no,” Chester said, “He’d been a kinda wayward kid. Nothing like his older sister or older brother. To tell you the truth, we were embarrassed by the way he dressed and looked, especially with that Nazi sign he tattooed on his forehead. My uncle died fighting those Nazis. Brad and I had a set-to about that tattoo, the good it did.”

“Teenage rebellion is sometimes hard to understand,” Laurie offered. She wanted to steer the conversation away from the boy’s appearance. One of her worries was that the Cassidys would request to see the pictures of their son that had been taken on his arrival at the morgue. Such photographs were not fit for any layperson to see, much less a parent.