The first few minutes in the cubicle passed in a flurry of nurses and techs coming and going. Drawing blood, checking a loose lead that made the EKG squeal, entering information into a computer. Out of habit, Zoe stepped in to help. Most of the staff here knew her well from her years on the ambulance. But one of the nurses pointed out her current career made her presence at a patient’s bedside appear questionable. Banished and feeling like the Grim Reaper, Zoe slipped into the hallway. She spotted the white-haired ER doctor at the nurses’ station.
“You don’t usually bring us patients anymore,” Dr. Fuller said without looking up from the chart in which he was writing.
“I know. Now you send them to us.”
He closed the chart and turned to face her with his easy smile. “Not too often, thank goodness.”
True. Most of the coroner’s office’s patients came directly from the streets.
“Do you miss EMS?” He looked at her over his glasses. “You were one of the best.”
The compliment warmed her as she weighed her answer. Yes, she missed it. The adrenalin rush of careening through the night in Medic Two, lights and sirens, not knowing what she and her partner would be walking into. The race to stop a patient’s bleeding or start their breathing. The euphoria of successfully restarting a heart.
Like this morning with Franklin.
There was nothing like it.
On the other hand, the challenge of her new job offered a different kind of satisfaction. Finding answers—and justice—for those who could no longer speak for themselves.
Plus, drunks no longer took swings at her.
“I didn’t think it was that hard a question.” Dr. Fuller’s words jarred her back to the ER.
“I miss it. But the coroner’s office has its own rewards.”
He studied her. She felt like he was doing an emotional autopsy on her. “Challenges are good. And for Franklin’s sake, I’m glad you were there. You saved his life.”
“Speaking of Franklin, what do you think happened?”
“We won’t know for certain until the bloodwork comes back, but if I were to guess, I’d say he forgot to eat. Or accidently overdosed on his insulin. You’ve been around long enough to know the dangers of hypoglycemia.”
“But his heart?”
“It happens. With a sudden drop in glucose levels, the body releases hormones. Epinephrine causes sweating, anxiety, palpitations, and tachycardia.”
All of which she’d witnessed, right down to the rapid heartbeat.
“And,” Fuller added, “heart attack.”
A nurse came out of Franklin’s room, spotted Zoe, and headed her way.
“What’s wrong?” Zoe asked.
“Mr. Marshall’s asking for you.”
Fuller chuckled. “I bet he’s going to order you back to work.”
“No bet.” Zoe thanked him and the nurse.
Franklin waved her closer as soon as she stepped through the privacy curtain. His color had improved, but she still hated seeing him attached to tubes and lines.
“Since they won’t let me out of here, I need two things from you,” he said. “First, get back down to autopsy.”
Dr. Fuller had been right.
“I want to know why that woman died.”
So did Zoe. “What’s the second thing?”
“Call my wife. My phone’s on my desk downstairs. Her number’s in it.”
“Your wife?” Zoe had known Franklin for years.
He wasn’t married.
She glanced toward the cubicle’s door. Was he having neurological issues as a result of the low blood sugar? Should she call for a nurse?
He acknowledged her confusion with a wag of his head. “Ex-wife. We’ve been back in touch since I’ve been ill. She would want to know I…” His frail voice trailed off.
Zoe filled in the blank. She would want to know he almost died. “I’ll call her.”
Pete and Baronick descended the historic staircase to the courthouse’s first floor, their footsteps echoing all the way to the dome and its stained-glass panels above them. The stately Brunswick County Courthouse, with its dark polished wood and marble construction, harkened back to a time when legal proceedings were more respectful. Less a dog-and-pony show. Or maybe that was Pete’s glossed version of history. More than likely, this venerable structure had witnessed more legal drama and grandstanding throughout the centuries than he could fathom.
“Looks like we’re working together again,” Baronick said as they hit the landing and turned to take the final flight of stairs to the ground floor.
Pete didn’t reply. There had been a day when being teamed with the younger, cocky detective would’ve grated on his last nerve. But Baronick had proven to be a damned good cop. Despite being a pain in the ass.
“Frattini’s right. I need to read the reports again.” Baronick chuffed. “Five or six times. But I really want to hear your take on what happened back then.”
“You don’t think it’ll taint your ‘fresh eyes’ on the case?”
“I’ll reserve my fresh eyes for viewing the evidence and interviewing the witnesses.”
“Some of whom are going to be hard to find. A few are dead.”
“Which is another reason I want to talk to you.” They reached the base of the staircase. Baronick faced Pete. “I’ll buy you a coffee.”
Pete headed for the massive oak doors leading not to their cars but to Main Street where some wise soul had opened a coffee shop directly across from the courthouse. “It’ll take more than one.”
Five minutes later, large coffees in front of them, they sat at a table in the rear corner of the small establishment, their backs to the walls so they could see who came and went. One other customer sat at a table by the front door. Neither she nor the barista paid them any attention, but Pete still lowered his voice. “What do you want to know?”
Baronick set his phone on the table and scrolled to pull up his notes. “Everything.”
Pete thought back. Nine years. His first homicide case after his move from the Pittsburgh Bureau of Police to Chief of Police for rural Vance Township. “I have to get back to my station. Nate’s covering for me but only until noon.”
“All right then. Get me started.” The detective scrolled some more. “I know
