Falling Into Place (11 page)

Detective Mancini changed course in mid-stride, heading for Captain Mulvaney’s office. Just as he turned the corner, he heard the Captain shout “Damn it, Crawley!” which stopped Mancini in his tracks. The office door was slightly ajar, so he crept quietly up to the door frame and listened. He always got a kick out of hearing his buddy, Kevin, get reamed out. He wondered what it was about this time. Maybe the new female morgue assistant he’s been trying to get with? What’s her name? Marcy? Marnie?

“Maggie needs to be reminded why she was given this opportunity. As much as I like initiative, too much of it can lead to problems. She needs to understand that,” Mulvaney continued, calmer now. “Why don’t you take care of that for me, Kevin m’lad? You seem to have a certain rapport with the lass.”

“Not a problem, Skip,” Kevin Crawley replied. “Anything else?”

Mancini began to tiptoe away, sensing the meeting was coming to an end, when Mulvaney added, “Yeah, make sure that partner of yours doesn’t start sniffing around where he’s not supposed to. This Sheppard case could take him places he doesn’t belong. Make sure he doesn’t get to those places.”

Jeff was stunned for a moment, frozen in place, but quickly his instincts kicked in. The detective slipped quietly into the break room before his partner opened the door to the Captain’s office.

Jeff’s mind reeled from what he’d overheard. He felt anger, confusion, betrayal and a myriad of other emotions as he tried to understand what just happened. Did the Captain really order his partner to purposely interfere with Emily’s murder investigation? If so, why? Was he somehow connected? How was that even possible? And why would Crawley go along with it? Did he know more about it than he was letting on? There were too many questions without answers. Jeff considered his partner a friend, so he wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Kevin Crawley was of Irish descent, standing at 5’8’ with short cropped blonde hair and a small military-type moustache. He’d served in the U.S. Army during the first Gulf War, maintaining the look all these years. Crawley worked homicide for the past ten years, becoming partners with Mancini after Jeff’s first partner retired four years earlier. Jeff respected and admired the way Crawley went about his business, with tenacity and fairness for all perps, as well as compassion for the victims and their families. To think he might be involved in something shady didn’t add up.

Right now, Jeff knew there was absolutely nothing he could do about what he’d heard, so he decided to play it cool. Mancini compartmentalized these thoughts as best he could and refocused on the job at hand. The police detective took a few deep breaths, calmed his mind and grabbed two Styrofoam cups. Minutes later, he emerged with fresh coffees and met Crawley at his desk.

“Figured you’d need this after your pow-wow with Mulvaney,” he said with a smirk. “Want to tell me what this butt-chewing was for or is it still too raw?”

“Just the usual,” Crawly answered. “I’m a screw-up and it isn’t going unnoticed. However, I will somehow manage to go on.”

“Well then let’s pay a visit to our friendly neighborhood medical examiner. Caroline’s got something for us,” Mancini said as he headed toward the door again, his uneasiness growing. Minutes later, he was no less shaky, but he put on a happy face.

“What ya got, Caroline?” Mancini’s baritone voice boomed as he walked through the morgue doors with a big smile, Kevin Crawley close behind.

Caroline Mooney had worked as the medical examiner for the 13
^th
Precinct since she’d moved to New York City from Denver, Colorado, a little over 2 years before. Slightly less than 6 months after her arrival, she had a very short, very passionate fling with Detective Jeff Mancini. Both eventually realized they weren’t a good fit, but they remained close and, aside from the infrequent booty call, strictly platonic and professional since their break-up. Caroline knew Mancini respected her both as an M.E. and, more importantly, as a person. She liked and respected him as well; too much to allow personal matters to interfere with their working relationship.

“Well, good morning to you too, Detective Mancini,” Mooney replied dryly before smiling and turning to Mancini’s partner. “How are you, Crawley? Staying out of trouble?”

“You know me, Mooney. I do what I do,” Crawley smirked.

“Just make sure you don’t do whatever it is you do in my morgue. Keep away from Maggie during work hours. This isn’t some two- bit pick up joint.” she said, throwing him a menacing look. “Do me that favor, okay? Don’t shit where I eat.”

Crawley smiled broadly, “You sure do talk real purdy, Miss Mooney.”

Fully aware she was getting nowhere with the unrepentant man- child, the medical examiner turned to Mancini and said, “Moving on to the reason I asked you down here, Jeff.”

Mooney was well aware how important the Sheppard case was to her former paramour. She also wanted to close this case quickly, so despite her ever-increasing workload, Mooney fast-tracked the autopsy. Caroline had liked the woman instantly, having met Emily on two occasions during her dalliance with the detective. Emily instantly dubbed their pairing “Mooncini,” like one of those celebrity couples, and the M.E. enjoyed the time she’d spent with the Sheppards immensely. For a brief moment, she smiled wistfully at the memory of a new love and new friends, but her demeanor became serious as she brought up the forensic results on the large computer screen over her desk.

“The full autopsy confirmed the initial findings,” the medical examiner began. “COD was massive blood loss. I’ve taken a mold of the neck wound, hoping to identify the murder weapon. The wound measured approximately 17 by 8 centimeters and seems to have been delivered by multiple blows, one of which severed the jugular artery. All damage was inflicted just prior to death.” Caroline noticed Jeff wince at the details and could see his eyes begin to water, so she decided to talk to him like a friend instead of a cop. “Okay, I’ll cut to the chase. When Mrs. Shephard was brought in she’d almost completely bled out. There wasn’t much blood left to analyze, but I managed to extract some from the superior vena cava. What I found was beyond me,” she said, sympathy in her eyes.

“What do you mean
beyond you
?” Jeff asked, pulling himself together.

“I mean, this isn’t the first time I’ve examined a body where massive blood loss was COD and we both know I am damn good at my job, but these results left me dumbfounded,” Mooney replied. “Her blood showed signs of three separate disorders: both hemolytic and aplastic anemia, as well as thrombocytopenia. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Crawly and Mancini looked at each other with confusion. “What?” they said in unison.

“I’m sorry,” Caroline said, changing the display on the screen to show a human circulatory system. “Basically what that means is that not only did she have a severe decrease in red blood cells, which would be somewhat understandable if she was dehydrated and tortured, but her bone marrow also stopped replenishing her cells at an adequate rate. Personally, I’ve never heard of these two conditions existing simultaneously. On top of that, her platelet count was drastically low. If this was a pre-existing condition, with the number of cuts inflicted during her capture, she would have bled to death much earlier. It’s almost as if these disorders began minutes before she died. I’ve found nothing to account for these findings and believe me, I’ve looked. Furthermore, any and all biological problems that would cause any one of these three conditions would appear in other areas of her system, but there were absolutely no signs of them anywhere in Emily Sheppard’s body.”

Jeff Mancini furrowed his brow for a moment before saying, “Best guess?”

Caroline frowned. “You should know me better than that by now. I don’t guess, but when I don’t know something, I’m not too proud to ask for help.” Caroline picked up a pad and began writing. “I sent samples of Emily’s blood to the most brilliant hematologist in the country, Dr. Rebecca Miller of Gene-Tech International, here in the city. I’ve attended more than a few of her seminars and spoken with her afterward a couple of times. If anyone can figure this out, it’s her.” She handed the contact information to Detective Mancini. As the two men were leaving, she added, “I think you’ll like her, Jeff. She’s just your cup of tea.”

Three hours later, Mancini and Crawley were still waiting in the reception area of Gene-Tech International, after undergoing the most thorough ID verification either of them had ever experienced. The head of security, a fastidious and slightly fascist man named Barnaby, was rude, overbearing and more than a little condescending during the process, so both detectives were beyond annoyed at the delay in getting to see Dr. Miller. For the first hour, Jeff tried to get his partner to give up any information about his meeting with the Captain, to no avail. Eventually they fell into silence, each stewing in their respective thoughts.

“I guess we should be glad there was no body cavity search,” Crawley joked to break the quiet.

Just then, a tall, gangly man exited the elevator and sauntered toward them. He had jet-black, spiked hair, multiple piercings in his ears, nose, and lips and he wore eyeliner. Jeff immediately thought of Johnny Depp in Edward Scissorhands as the detective rose to meet him. The name tag on his lab coat identified him as Holden Levitt, Lab Assistant. He never made eye contact with the officers, looking past them at something out the window as he said, “Dr. Miller will see you now.” Then he turned and walked back toward the elevator banks.

“I guess Jack Skellington wants us to follow him?” Crawley said.

“Let’s go, Kev,” Mancini whispered, “but keep the snide remarks to yourself, even if this Dr. Miller is equally odd. I need to know what happened to Emily and I don’t need your legendary ‘sensitivity’ to piss her off.”

Kevin Crawley started to say something in return but thought better of it after seeing the look in his partner’s eyes, so he kept quiet as they walked into the waiting elevator. The three men rode up to the 15
^th
floor in silence. When the doors opened, Levitt exited the car, extended his left arm in an exaggerated manner and said, “This way, detectives.”

The lab assistant walked across the hall before opening a door marked
Hematolog y/Research
. The two men entered a huge room filled with an assortment of computers, microscopes, rows of beakers and test tubes, glass cabinets, as well as a multitude of equipment neither of them could hope to identify. In the back corner of the room was a woman entering data into a computer via a hand-held tablet. She had her back to them, not bothering to turn around as she said, “Just a moment, Detective Mancini. Caroline Mooney emailed me the particulars of this specimen. I will be through with my analysis momentarily. Please wait.”

“Do you have a prelim-” Jeff Mancini began to say, but Dr. Miller cut him off.

“No questions please, Detective,” the hematologist said stoically. “That’s one of the reasons I had you wait in reception until I was nearly complete. I don’t like needless questions and I don’t believe in supposition. Once I’m through with my analysis, I will state my findings.”

Crawley sighed loudly. Mancini threw him the dirtiest of all dirty looks, causing his partner to put both hands in his pockets as he began meandering around the room.

Detective Mancini waited patiently for a few moments. He was about to speak when Dr. Miller turned around, placed the tablet on the counter and picked up a remote control. When she finally looked at him, Jeff was stunned. She was a petite woman, no more than 5’1” and thin. She had dark brown hair pulled up tightly into a bun, giving the pale skin of her face a slight harshness that in no way diminished her beauty. She possessed delicate features: a narrow nose, high cheekbones, full lips, and big blue eyes that seemed to shine in the light of the computer screens. Despite her lab coat and turtleneck, it was readily apparent Rebecca Miller had a very feminine and attractive physique, including an ample bosom for a woman her size. She looked like every boy’s sexy librarian fantasy. Jeff understood Caroline’s parting shot at the morgue now. She
was
just his type.

“I’ve finished my initial analysis of the blood samples, Detective,” Dr. Miller said. “I’m ready to report my findings. Please note, a more detailed analysis will take at least a day, but Caroline said this was time-sensitive. I did what I could in the time frame allotted.” There was no urgency or stress in her voice. She didn’t smile or frown or even change her facial expression. Her entire demeanor reminded Jeff of Dr. Temperance Brennan from the TV show
Bones
: cold, calculating and without a hint of human emotion.

Detective Crawley was at the other end of the room in front of a large metallic door with a coded keypad next to it. He tried to look inside the room and knocked on the small window in the center of it.

“Get away from there,” Dr. Miller scolded.

“What is that thing anyway? Looks like some kinda freezer,” Crawley said as he made his way back to Mancini.

“It is a cryonic preservation chamber used to store samples for use in my work,” the hematologist answered.

“You mean it’s a giant freezer filled with frozen blood?” Crawley asked with a wince.

“Blood, spores, cultures, infectious diseases and other necessary samples needed for my work, yes,” she replied. Dr. Miller turned to Mancini, clearly annoyed at this waste of time, and asked, “Are there any other superfluous questions or may I begin my findings?”

“Of course, Dr. Miller,” Jeff said, smiling. “Forgive my partner. His curious nature sometimes gets the better of him.”

The hematologist looked at him impassively before turning to the screen and pressing the remote control. “As you can see, I’ve isolated the different types of blood disorders found in the bloodstream by Dr. Mooney. She was correct in her diagnosis of Hemolytic Anemia, Aplastic Anemia and Thrombocytopenia. However, I have concluded that each of these was introduced as a direct result of an outside catalyst.”

“Catalyst? You mean, someone injected her with some kind of drug?” Mancini asked.