Page 60 of Sharp Force
Please make sure Dr. Schlaefer knows that I’m on my way to the scene,I write her back.He’s to get the decomp room ready and start when the body arrives.
Next, I hear from Fabian. The van is gassed up and loaded.
Any special requests before I boogie?he writes.
Two body pouches. One heavy-duty, one standard, both white,I text him.
Already taken care of. Except they’re black.
Have to be white. Trace evidence shows up better,I answer.
Got it.
And I need the medical kit I keep in my office credenza,I add.
The one for living patients?
Yes,I answer.
An update from DNA examiner Clark Givens lets me know that he’ll pack the laser scanner needed for 3-D mapping the bloodstain evidence.
“What’s your pleasure?” Benton opens the refrigerator. “Cream cheese, fig preserves? How about butter? Shall we splurge?”
“May as well,” I tell him. “God only knows when we’ll have time to eat again.”
It’s now almost six-fifteen. My headache is better but not gone, my eyes scratchy from too little sleep. I can tell that Benton isn’t feeling much better as he places two multigrain bagels on a cutting board, finding the bread knife.
Checking on the weather, I peek behind the curtain over the sink, and it’s pitch-black out, distant thunder rumbling. The thermometer on the windowsill reads forty degrees Fahrenheit, the backyard socked in by fog.
Trees and foliage are dark shapes moving in the wind, lightning flickering through clouds as my phone begins to vibrate on the countertop.
“Hi,” I answer Lucy’s call. “How’s it going?”
“Leaving Mercy Island. I was just in the admissions area of the hospital.” Her voice sounds over speakerphone, and I can tell she’s in the car.
“Merry Christmas, Lucy.” Benton is slicing bagels in half.
“I’m sorry about your trip.”
“So are we,” I answer. “What’s the latest?”
“I’m trying to get info about patients on the forensic unit, among other things,” she tells us. “Most important is accessing recordings from the security cameras, but it’s not looking good.”
“The cameras have always been an issue when I’ve responded todeaths there.” I’m filling the coffee machine’s reservoirs with water and almond milk. “It’s deliberate. Very much to their advantage when nothing is recording.”
“There aren’t many cameras for a place this size, all of them in areas that aren’t helpful,” Lucy replies. “Such as the staff parking lot. And the loading dock where deliveries are made. Some are offline. Including the ones at the entrance of the island.”
“Par for the course.” I open the tin of coffee beans. “They’ve had so many scandals, the staff is experienced at obstruction. They make sure there’s as little record as possible. Then when something bad happens, they dig deeper into protect mode. They lie. They obfuscate.”
“The director is stonewalling, citing HIPAA this and HIPAA that,” Lucy replies.
“Graden Crowley must be beside himself.” I pour the Jamaican coffee beans into the machine, smelling the rich aroma. “The hospital’s blighted past is about to be made public by Dana Diletti. And now the Slasher has just murdered a psychiatrist there.”
“Lucy, when’s the last time you and Georgine Duvall had contact?” Benton places the bagels inside the toaster oven.
“My freshman year at UVA.” Her voice has cooled over the phone.
“Were you aware that she’s good friends with Calvin Willard?” He watches the bagels as if they won’t toast otherwise.
