.38 Caliber Cover-Up

“I insist that you escort us to the morgue to get this body transported to the medical examiner as soon as possible,” Erren said firmly.

“We can’t move the body. We have to report and wait for instructions,” Waggoner said, planting his feet more forcefully onto the tile floor, becoming just a bit wider in the doorway.

“I’m not taking the blame for this. I have a record of how late I was called onto this case.” Erren over- exaggerated his movements, but still managed to seem three inches shorter. “If he was killed by an injection of some type it will be your heads that roll when we don’t get blood samples soon enough.”

“I wouldn’t throw those allegations around lightly, Doctor.” The other officer’s feathers ruffled as Waggoner looped his thumbs in his belt, very close to his weapon. “Nothing happened while we were here.”

“The tests are time sensitive, Officer. There might be a chance for the ME to discover what drug was used if we move now.”

“You’re certain drugs killed the guy?”

“It’s the best theory I have.” Erren shook his head. “If you’d rather wait, we’ll wait. I’ll just call the DA’s office and tell them what happened.”

Erren scooped the cell phone up and headed to the corner of the room.

“Wait. It might be hours ’til Transport can get him over to County.” Officer Rios turned to his partner. “Remember what happened last time?”

Officer Waggoner became visibly uncomfortable. Darby could only imagine what the “last time” had been like. She’d been on cases where the body was lost, or the morgue was over capacity. The county hospital only had places for six bodies. It was nothing like on TV shows.

All “in custody” cases were contracted by an outside agency to be transported across a parking lot to the county medical examiner’s offices, morgue and forensics. Since Michael wasn’t dead, it was important that happen quickly.

Darby watched the questions play across the cop’s face. It was clear there’d been a previous problem and he couldn’t afford to make another mistake.

“It’s your call, Officer Waggoner.” Erren managed to cross his arms, keep his stooped posture and seem like he was standing tall. His name and words might be Dr. McCoy, but his posture and actions were Val Kilmer’s portrayal of the Saint.

The man truly was a chameleon. Very convincing. And must watch a lot of television.

“Call for transport, Doc.” Waggoner turned to his partner. “You should stay here, inform the precinct what’s happened. I’ll take the body to the morgue.”

Darby tucked the sheet a bit closer around her brother’s arm. They’d killed Michael for the cops…at least for a while. Now the hard part began…keeping him from dying for real.

Erren noticed Darby’s nervous fingers, tucking and retucking the sheet, hiding the wet spot where she’d dispensed the drugs. He watched Waggoner stiffen, waiting. Rios shifted from foot to foot, waiting to call the events to someone in authority. Seconds passed, dragging the scene out in his head.

Erren hadn’t discussed details with Thrumburt. The plan was to get O’Malley to the morgue as close to 6:30 a.m. as possible. Shift change at the hospital occurred between six-thirty and seven so things gone wrong took longer to discover. At least that’s what Darby had told him. Her paper-pushing experience was a definite asset to rescuing her brother.

His turn to move things forward. What would the cops do if they didn’t? He hadn’t gone over any options with Darby. He rolled his fingers over the locked phone, looking as if he searched for a number, watching the men in the room who were watching him, waiting.

They’d bought the routine. They’d wanted the kid to die. He was a cop killer.

Hell, he’d wanted O’Malley to die before he’d determined there was more to Pike’s death than it appeared. He was willing to wait for the truth. Now that he’d found her brother who could tell it.

“I need county transport for an ‘in-custody’ body to the ME.” Keep your voice firm and in command, Dr. McCoy. “That won’t do. Divert him to Parkland. We have a case that needs immediate attention.”

Pretending to hang up the phone, he noticed the immediate relief on both officers’ faces. He hated to pull this stunt on two good men that Thrumburt trusted, but there was just no other way.

“How soon?” Officer Rios asked.

“We diverted him from a run to Children’s Medical.”

Both men nodded. Another grim image stuck in everyone’s mind. A child being transported to the ME office usually meant they suspected foul play. Guilt rushed him again for having to play the officers, but he’d use any device to keep Darby safe.

“Transport will be at the loading dock by the time we get downstairs,” he informed the room. Darby visibly relaxed and he hoped the officers didn’t notice.

“Baby killers are the only thing worse than cop killers,” Rios said.

Darby’s sharp intake of breath, caught in her throat, drew everyone’s attention to her coughing. He crossed the room and patted her on the back.

Michael O’Malley’s body was covered as if he were dead. His sister had slowly drawn the sheet up like she was really saying goodbye. Thank God the sadness in her eyes had a genuine reason for being there.

They were about to embark on the least predictable segment—getting past the nurses’ station with a “dead” body. Erren thought through his options again. Showing his face to a group of women a second time—they’d have a much clearer recollection for the sketch artist. How could he get around that? Or should he have Darby distract them? Would they see through her Nurse Chapel persona and alert the cops?

“Just let me put the crash cart back and we’ll be on our way,” Darby said, pushing past him and leaving the room.

“Now?” His question took him by surprise, just as her acceptance of his lack of a plan to get past the nurses’ station didn’t. The Sergeant Major had warned him about her taking orders. Why should now be any different?

This was her home territory. She knew the hospital. She could do this. He’d heard her, semibelieved her.

He hated not being in control.

It wasn’t a part of the plan, but he took the opportunity to slide the phone into the pocket of his borrowed lab coat with the Medic still on speaker, listening.

What was Darby thinking? They needed out of that room, out of the wing, out of the hospital. He couldn’t just take off without her now. Her taking the cart back to the closet though…that was risky. Now that she’d said it, they were stuck to continue in that direction.

Erren moved aside and began unlocking the bed wheels. It was bulkier than a gurney, but it was their only choice.

“Are you sure you want to take the bed?” Waggoner asked. “Rios could find one of the smaller ones.”

“I’d rather not wait. If we don’t catch the transport downstairs, the body may not make it to the county ME for an autopsy today. You don’t want to wait until tomorrow.”

“Been there. Done that, Doc.” Rios shifted his weight from foot to foot, acting nervous. “A different high- profile case missed its ride across the parking lot. We were ordered not to leave. I’d rather not go through that again. I’m not saying the body was ripe or anything. But it wasn’t pleasant to be in the room.”

“Happens too many times.” Officer Waggoner nodded his head, thumbs still in his belt.

Erren wasn’t certain what to make of Waggoner. Most of his dialogue had been aimed at making the men uneasy. Maybe it had worked. Or maybe he was going soft.

It was easier to walk through an operation not knowing the players and not caring about the outcome. Who cared if you busted someone for selling drugs to kids? He’d never wondered what happened after his part was successful.

“I didn’t mean to accuse you fellows of foul play,” Erren told the officers, not understanding why he felt compelled to apologize. Dr. McCoy wouldn’t apologize. At least not until the end of the show.

“Not a problem,” Rios said.

Waggoner nodded and helped turn the bed. They had aimed the frame toward the door when Darby returned.

With a gurney.

Well, well, well… Nurse Chapel had resources. Respect for Darby and her growing capabilities was getting to