replacing healthy tissue with damaged tissue.'
Dr. McCleary nodded, an exaggerated bobbing of his head that told Maggie he would allow the possibility but didn't agree.
'Come,' he said, and he led them out of the room and down a long hallway. 'You want to do this, fine. I'll show you what you're in for.'
He slid a key card and waited for the security pad to blink green. He waved the three of them into a huge room that reminded Maggie of a police evidence room, only the shelves were replaced with drawers, one on top of another. Refrigerated and freezer drawers. Rows and rows.
'Would you like to start with the feet?' McCleary said, pointing at one end. 'Or perhaps the eyes?'
AUTHOR'S NOTE I've spent most of my life in tornado country, so I have a healthy respect for the forces of nature. In 2004 I bought what I believed would be a writing retreat just outside of Pensacola, Florida. Six months later, Hurricane Ivan roared ashore. It's difficult to describe the damage, and even more difficult to explain how deep the damage cuts beyond that done to physical property. There's a transformation that takes place within the community. You spend long, hot days without running water and electricity. Gasoline and groceries are limited to what you've stocked before the storm. The clean-up is physically and emotionally draining, but you find yourself grateful to be working alongside neighbors--in my case, people I had only recently met. They taught me what true strength and perseverance looks like. Nine months after Ivan, Hurricane Dennis made a direct hit. And the Pensacola community simply rolled up their collective sleeves and started cleaning up all over again. To the community of Pensacola: please know that it was out of respect and admiration that I decided to use your piece of paradise as the backdrop of Damaged. As in all my novels, I have blended fact with fiction. For the record, here are some of the facts and some of the fiction. The premise of infecting an entire tissue bank is based solely on my speculation. There have been, however, fatalities caused by infected donor tissue. One such case occurred in 2001 when it was determined that a twenty-three-year-old man who died after routine knee surgery was killed by a rare bacterium--Clostridium sordellii--and that he had contracted the infection from cadaver cartilage that was used to repair his knee. Unlike those of organ donor banks, the standards for tissue, bone, and other donated body parts are more loosely regulated. Even though the FDA established the HTTF (Human Tissue Task Force) in 2006, they continue, by their own admission, to lack the resources to inspect and regulate this vast and growing industry. The Uniform Anatomical Gift Act does prohibit the buying and selling of dead bodies, but the law allows for companies to recover their costs for expenses such as labor, transportation, processing, and storage. Demand is high, supply low, which sometimes opens the way to fraudulent brokers, as in the case of a New York funeral home where PVC pipe was swapped out for bones. Yet, because of this industry, amazing technological advances have resulted. BIOMedics is fictitious, but similar companies have been creating and manufacturing innovative products like bone screws and bone paste, which have helped save the limbs of many soldiers returning from Afghanistan and Iraq. It's true that the Naval Tissue Bank at the Naval Medical Center in Maryland was the first to use frozen bone transplants and to set up the first body donation program. However, to my knowledge you will not find a similar tissue bank in Jacksonville, Florida. Nor will you find Captain Ganz's surgical program at the Naval Air Station in Pensacola. Likewise, I must offer my apologies to the Coast Guard's Air Station Mobile and Naval Air Station Pensacola. I've taken a few liberties with takeoffs and landings, many of which would not include Pensacola Beach. While it is true that before Hurricane Dennis there were homemade signs asking The Weather Channel's Jim Cantore to 'stay away' or 'go home,' I'm sure Mr. Cantore has witnessed many similar signs in other communities. Hopefully he views these with the same good-natured spirit in which they're intended, and as a tribute to his expertise. And last, Charlie Wurth would have found the Coffee Cup closed on Sundays, but if you're in Pensacola any other day of the week, be sure to stop and try their award-winning Nassau grits.
ACKNOWLEDGMENT Thank you to the men and women of the United States armed forces, especially the Coast Guard for what you do every single day to keep us safe. And special thanks to those few women rescue swimmers for quietly and bravely shattering glass ceilings that most of us wouldn't dare attempt. Thanks also to: The incredible team at Doubleday--Jackeline Montalvo, Judy Jacoby, Alison Rich, Suzanne Herz, Lauren Lavelle, and John Pitts--for your warm welcome, your enthusiasm, dedication, and expertise. Same goes to David Shelley and his crew at Little Brown UK. Amy Moore-Benson, my agent, for refusing to use the words 'never' or 'impossible.' Lee Child, Steve Berry, and Tess Gerritsen, three of the most generous authors in the business. Ray Kunze, for lending his name to Maggie's boss. Just for the record, the real Ray Kunze is a gentleman and all-around nice guy who would never send Maggie into the eye of a hurricane. Lee Dixon, for giving me the idea of identifying a torso by its defibrillator implant. Darcy Lindner, funeral director, for sharing your expertise. My friends--Sharon Car, Marlene Haney, Sandy Rockwood, Leigh Ann Retelsdorf, Patti and Martin Bremmer, and Patricia Sierra--for keeping me sane and grounded. My family: Patricia Kava, Bob and Tracy Kava, Nancy and Jim Tworek, Kenny and Connie Kava, and Patti Carlin. My Florida neighbors: Lee and Betty Dixon, Terry and Bea Hummel, Sharon and Steve Kator, Elaine and Kelly McDaniels, Lee and Carol McKinstry, Mike and Jana Nicholson, Steve and Anna Ratliff, Bill and Barb Schroeder, and Larry and Diane Wilbanks. The booksellers, book buyers, and librarians across the country, for mentioning and recommending my novels. All you faithful readers--I know there's plenty of competition for your time, your entertainment, and your dollars. I thank you for continuing to choose my novels. And, as always, a special thanks to Deb Carlin, for everything. You are my Rock of Gibraltar. Last, to Walter and Emilie Carlin. Walter passed away in September of 2008, and Emilie in November of 2005, but their enduring personalities, life stories, and spirit continue to inspire. Walter would have loved seeing his bright red, white, and blue Coney Island canteen come back to life, even if briefly and only in the pages of a novel.
