Terminal 9 (28 page)

Dana made the call to the medical examiner's office while Mac drove. “Henry, hi. This is Detective Bennett. I need to speak to Kristen.”

After a moment's hesitation, Dana said, “Somehow I knew she would be. Okay, here's the scoop. We need you to pull Clay Mullins out of the cooler for collection of some flesh samples.”

Dana held the phone away from her ear. Even over the car and street sounds, Mac could hear Henry's deep voice. “We're full up at the moment, and I'll have to clear it with Kristen. Shouldn't be a problem though. She's almost finished with number three.”

“Thanks, Henry.”

Closing the phone, she turned to Mac with a satisfied grin.

“Kristen's almost ready to go.”

“Something just occurred to me,” Mac said. “If the ricin took several days to kill Clay, then we're looking at a totally different scenario with regard to alibi.”

“You're right. That vial could have been put in his bag a week before.” Dana frowned. “Even longer if he had another bottle to finish. I wonder how he gets his meds?” She pulled out a pad and jotted down some thoughts. “Didn't Shaw say something about Kelly bringing Clay his medications? Rita mentioned that too. She said he took care of his meds himself, but she would have had access.”

“Right. Kristen will have Clay's medical records. Hopefully we can determine where the prescriptions were filled.”

“This is exciting, Mac. We find out who had access to Clay's medication, and we narrow the search for our killer.”

“Hopefully. We still have a pretty long list of suspects to work through.” Mac caught sight of a pedestrian out of the corner of his eye and braked hard. “Sorry about that,” he said to Dana. “Sometimes I get to talking and thinking and go on autopilot. I need to pay more attention when I drive.”

“It's easy to do. We have to multitask most of the time.” She grinned. “I'll keep my mouth shut, at least until we get out of this traffic.”

Crossing the Burnside Bridge over the Willamette River, Mac thought about the conversation between Dana and Allison regarding the officer-involved shooting he and Dana had been involved in a couple of months ago. The last time they'd talked, Dana was still seeing a counselor. Hardly a night went by when Mac didn't relive the nightmare. Time had frozen for him in that terrifying moment. The bullet leaving the gun and slamming into Dana's chest—him unable to get to her—his gun useless. He suspected that Dana's nightmares were even worse than his. Now that he thought about it, Dana seemed a little more distant these days. Maybe that was part of what had come between them. Could be she needed some time to heal—needed her space.
Heck, a couple inches higher and
that round would have been right in her throat.
Mac glanced over at Dana thanking God that she was still alive—still on the force.

“You still having those dreams, Mac?” Dana interrupted his thoughts. “You know—about the shooting?”

The question didn't surprise him. Often, when they'd get quiet, Mac's mind would drift back. Plus, Dana had an uncanny ability to read his thoughts. “You mean the one where you get shot or the one where I squeeze the trigger and the bullet rolls out of the barrel and into the mud?”

“Yeah, those.”

“Sometimes. I'm just glad they're dreams. I sure wouldn't want to relive the real thing.”

“I know what you mean. I had weird dreams before the shooting, but now sometimes I see myself lying in a pool of blood. I see everything going on around me, but I can't move. And you know the thing that really bothers me?”

“What?”

“I never got a round off at the guy. He didn't know me, didn't know if I was a mother or someone's wife. He did this totally personal, horrible thing, and I never got a chance to confront him.”

Mac cleared his throat. “It wasn't the resolution any of us wanted. Sometimes I wish I had gotten hit instead of you.”

Dana placed a hand on Mac's arm. “Don't say that. Don't even think it. This stuff happens. We knew that when we signed on. The memories will fade before too long. Not that we'll ever forget, but we'll move on—are moving on.”

Mac adjusted his seat back a notch, stretching his legs.

“Does talking about it upset you?” Dana asked.

“No. Well—it feels awkward, but we should be able to talk about it.”

“I know you didn't want me going in there that day.”

“I should have made you stay with the cars and wait for SWAT,” Mac said.

“No. You did the right thing. I'm a cop and I want to be treated like one. No favors or special treatment just because I'm a woman.” Dana pulled her hand away. “I'll never forget what you said while I was lying there in the mud trying to get my breath. And the look on your face.”

What I said?
Mac couldn't remember. All he remembered was desperately wanting her to stay away from the action—to be safe from potential harm. Being scared to death that she'd been seriously injured. “We detectives are supposed to look out for each other.”

“I know. And I like to think you'd have had the same reaction if it had been Kevin or Philly.”

“Well, maybe not quite.”

“Oh. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, Mac. I was just thinking out loud. I'm sorry.”

“Hey, it's okay. We really need to talk about it.” At least that's what he'd been told. “We probably should have had this conversation sooner. I didn't know you were still having problems with what went on that day—you know, beyond the obvious.”

“It's not your fault we haven't talked about it. I just haven't wanted to. I think I'm ready, but we'd better pick this up another time. We've got a case to put together.” Dana shoved playfully at his right shoulder. “Besides, I don't want you all misty-eyed when we go in to meet with Kristen. I'm not sure she goes for the sensitive type.”

Mac grinned, glad to leave the psychological baggage behind. “Knock it off. We had dinner. Nothing ever came of it.”

“Twice, Mac. You've had dinner with her twice.”

He might have argued with her if they weren't pulling into the back lot of the medical examiner's office. Mac took a couple of deep breaths to get a handle on things. Sometimes having women in your life could knock the wind right out of you. Especially women like Dana and Kristen.

Mac and Dana entered through the business entrance to find Henry pushing a steel gurney across the hall to the examination room.

“Hey Henry, thanks for setting this guy back up for us.” Dana slid the strap of her briefcase off her shoulder, letting it drop onto a chair.

“No problem. I asked the doc, and she said to bring him in. She's just now finishing up on table one, so I imagine she'll want him on two.” Henry nodded toward the autopsy room as he pushed the gurney with both hands. His gait was slow and Mac wondered just how old Henry was now. Not that it mattered. He was one of the best assistants in the M.E.'s office and would hopefully be around for a long time to come.

“C'mon down,” Kristen called. “You're the next contestants on
The Price Is Right.”

“She's so weird,” Dana whispered, leaning into Mac as she did.

“Not as much as you'd think,” he whispered back. “Most of it is an act. She's just trying to cope.”

“Defending her, are we? For a minute there, I forgot she was your girlfriend.” Dana got in one last shot before walking into the room so Mac wouldn't have a chance to reply.

Girlfriend? Hardly.
Mac's attention turned toward Kristen and to the body on the autopsy table. The girl couldn't have been much more than fifteen or sixteen. “What's her story, Doc?” Mac asked.

“Sophomore at Madison High, track star, former member of student council.” Kristen blew out a long breath, the burden of her job evident on her face. “Now she's another statistic. Drug overdose. See these blisters around her lips?”

Mac had seen it all too often when he'd been on the narcotics beat, but Dana stepped forward for a closer look. “Yeah, what's that all about?”

“Free-basing cocaine, and smoking crack too, I'll bet. The burns on her lips are from the glass pipe. The kid was so high she couldn't feel her own flesh burning.”

Dana bit her lower lip. “That's so sad. Does she have family?”

“Uh-huh. They're on their way now to recover the body. I'm just about done; going to take a few close-ups for the deputy medical examiner training.”

“Which is?” Dana's gaze followed Kristen's movements.

“I put on a show for the county medical examiners.” Kristen nodded at Henry, giving him the go-ahead to sew up the victim.

Mac's heart caught as his gaze captured the victim's pretty face.

“This was a tough one,” Kristen said. “Poor baby will never see graduation, never marry or bear a child. When will these kids learn that death doesn't play favorites? That they aren't immune?”

She pulled off her gloves and turned toward Mac and Dana. “So, detectives, what's going on? Henry tells me you need more samples for the crime lab.”

Mac nodded, pulling his thoughts back to the present. “Right.

Looks like we got us another murder.” He went on to tell her about Allison's findings. “Ricin in his insulin vial. Can you believe it?”

“Actually I can.” Kristen's eyes lit up. “That was one of the possibilities I considered when I found the necrosis around the injection site. I just didn't dream I'd be right.”

“It's ironic, you know.” Mac pulled a pair of latex gloves from the box on the wall. “If that kid hadn't burglarized Clay's house and taken the kit, we'd never have found it, and it would have been lost in the fire. The kid should be doing time, but I'm ready to give him a medal.”

Dana gloved up as well. “Kevin would probably say it was a God thing. The Almighty didn't want whoever killed Clay to get away with it.”

“Personally, I think God has a hand in everything, but still, I'd like to think we'd have found ricin when we did the final analysis.” Kristen walked over to Clay's body, which was still on the gurney. She studied the closed body bag for a moment.

“Did you want him on the exam table, Doc?” Henry asked.

“What?” Kristen looked up to catch his curious gaze. “Oh, sorry, Henry. No, just leave him here on the rollaway.” Kristen unzipped the body bag. Mac pulled his Vicks inhaler out of his pocket and took a few whiffs. He reminded himself to breathe through his mouth.

“So, Kristen, you know about ricin then?” Dana used her inhaler as well, blinking back the tears from the onslaught of strong scents.

“Sure, since this whole terrorist focus I've had to bone up on my poisons and toxins. Especially those that can be made into an ionized powder and that present a danger of widespread inhalation.”

“You said you might have been able to tell it was ricin without the vial?” Mac steeled himself as he peered at Clay's remains, an all-too-clear reminder of what Clay Mullins had suffered.

“I think so.” Kristen gestured toward one of Clay's arms. “Remember when I told you I noted some unusual bruising and advanced decay on the flesh around the injection sites?”

“Yeah.” Mac nodded. “Those are the sites we need to get samples from for Allison.”

Kristen stepped to the side so they could better examine the sites as she pointed them out. “Here we go, this area right here above the elbow. If ricin is injected, it will kill the flesh around the injection site as well as the lymph nodes.”

“Mac and I were talking on the way over about when Clay might have been poisoned. Looks like someone tampered with his insulin. How hard will it be to figure out when he got the first injection?”

Kristen placed the arm back in the bag. “We'll look at the number of injections like this one and then at his schedule. As I recall, he took his insulin twice a day. I should be able to tell you when he started using it, but that's not going to tell us when the bottle was tampered with. He could have had a month's supply of insulin or more on hand.”

Kristen examined the second arm. “You may be looking at a day or day and a half of taking the ricin before Clay died. One thing for sure is that he would have been in a great deal of pain before his death. I'd expect liver and kidney failure, then additional complications like trouble breathing and severe intestinal bleeding and stomach pain. He would eventually suffocate or succumb to some type of organ failure or cardiac arrest.”

“Allison said pretty much the same thing at the lab.” Dana pulled her camera from her bag to snap some additional photos of the injection site.

“I'll get those samples for you.” Kristen turned to Henry, who was already reaching for a scalpel and some small glass jars. He set the items on a tray and went back to his sewing. Kristen cut a deep sample around the injection site on the arm, taking great care to produce a sample of the epidermis and the underlying tissue for a comprehensive examination. “Allison still has enough blood, correct?”

“Yeah, she's good with what you sent over,” Dana answered. “She just wanted a concentrated sample of the injection sites.”

Kristen dropped the flesh sample in one of the glass jars, handing it over to Mac to tighten the lid and label it. “This may be overkill, but let's get a sample from each of the necrotic areas. We may be able to determine when he injected each site by the amount of damage done. Either way, we'll have more than one sample.”

Kristen found four necrotic sites in all, which according to Clay's records would have had him starting the injections in the morning on the day prior to his death.

Mac labeled each of the samples: one from each arm and from each thigh.

“There is one thing, and this is a guesstimate at best. There may have been more sites, but I really doubt it. He gave himself two injections of insulin for two days. We'll have to check with Allison on the concentration. I'm thinking your killer expected him to die right away. They didn't realize just how dearly Clay would hang on to life. Clay was a big man too, so that would make a difference.”