welcomed by the hospital administrator, the head of ER, the hospital's press liaison, and the doctor who had been unfortunate enough to pronounce poor Mr. Harrison dead. Completing the group was a grim-looking bald man with a briefcase, who turned out to be the hospital lawyer.
Elise and Gould sat side by side at the table.
The ER head, Dr. Eklund, pulled out several sheets of paper. 'We have some of the lab work back on Mr. Harrison,' he said, passing copies to Elise and David.
It was pretty obvious that management wanted to get its side of the story out as quickly as possible.
'Traces of TTX were detected in Truman Harrison's blood.'
'TTX?' Elise asked.
'Tetrodotoxin. A toxin that's common to several varieties of marine life. I'm willing to bet we'll discover that Mr. Harrison recently ate at some exotic seafood restaurant.'
'Isn't TTX found in the puffer fish?' Gould asked.
'Among other things.'
The doctor cleared bis throat, his hands clasped on the table. 'In Japan, people actually eat puffer fish in order to get high from the poison,' he explained. 'There have been a number of fatalities from it. Apparently it's also becoming fashionable here. Our comatose Mr. Harrison probably visited a sushi bar where they serve the delicacy.'
'Have you questioned his wife?' Gould asked.
'She doesn't know where he ate the day he was poisoned.'
Elise recognized a choreographed delivery when she saw one. As if on cue, the lawyer presented them with some official-looking documents. 'This,' he explained, 'is a copy of the Presidential Commission's definition of death. And this is the Uniform Determination of Death Act. If you read both, you'll see that we followed their suggested criteria and that there was no negligence on the part of Mercy Hospital or anyone on our staff.'
Covering their asses. That's what they were doing. Elise scooped up the loose sheets of paper and tapped them together. 'We aren't here to pass judgment on anyone,' she told them, trying to remain calm-at least outwardly. 'Our job is to collect information.'
'You can understand the hospital's concern,' said the administrator, a well-dressed woman of fifty. 'The press could turn this into a circus. The hospital's reputation is at stake.'
'We don't work for the hospital,' Elise said, getting abruptly to her feet. She'd heard enough. 'We work for the public, and they have a right to know what happened. If Mr. Harrison ingested a toxin at an eating establishment anywhere in the bistate region, we have to determine the location of that establishment and quickly relay information to the media. Harrison may not be the only poisoning case. You need to make your staff aware of the symptoms. You need to contact specialists and find out how it can be treated. This isn't the time to focus on protecting your reputation. It's time to protect the public.'
That said, Elise turned to leave. Gould followed a little more slowly, giving the group a small salute before walking out the door.
The elevator was occupied, so Elise took the stairs.
'Way to go,' Gould shouted, hurrying down the steps after her. He caught up as she exited for the parking area. 'You really chewed out their corporate asses.'
She swung around to face him, at last able to release the anger she'd been holding in check. Too bad Gould was the recipient. Later she would regret her outburst, but right now it felt damn good. 'And you didn't think they needed chewing out?'
Gould put both hands in the air. 'I was just admiring your ability to get so worked up, that's all.'
'Is that because getting worked up is something you can only admire from a distance?'
'What's that supposed to mean?'
She stopped and cast a glance around. 'Where's my car?'
'I drove.' Gould pointed to his black Honda. 'You left yours at the morgue.'
He unlocked his car with the automatic opener and they both slid inside.
'It just doesn't seem like you care about anything other than to be occasionally amused by it,' Elise said. There. It was finally out. She'd told him what she'd been thinking for the past three months. 'You aren't engaged.'
He reversed the little car, then quickly exited the lot. 'I can do my job without being engaged.'
'A good cop has to care about people.'
'You get hurt that way. You burn out that way.'
'Is that why you wanted to avoid Mr. Harrison's room?' she asked. 'Because you go out of your way to keep an emotional distance?'
'I told you. I don't like hospitals.'
'Well, that's too damn bad! Neither do I! Do you think you can run from everything unpleasant?'
'I try.'
Why couldn't they just have a normal conversation? Why did he have to make everything so hard?
'So.' He stopped at a red light. 'You're telling me I should do something about my attitude.'
'Some adjustment wouldn't hurt and might even make your life easier.' And hers.
'Hmm.'
Remarkably, he seemed to give her words consideration.
'You might have a point.'
This had been so easy. 'Please give it some thought.' Why hadn't she brought up his attitude before? Communication. That was what it was all about.
'Just say no,' he said.
'Say no?' For a total of thirty seconds, their conversation had made sense. 'Say no to what?'
'Some things I need to deal with, that's all.'
'Such as…?' She wanted to keep the moment of frankness and camaraderie going.
'Nothing I want to talk about.' Slam.
Oh, forget it. If she was from Venus, Gould was from a planet in a galaxy that hadn't yet been discovered. 'I need food,' she announced with a conscious effort to change the subject.
She was only thirty-one, but lately she'd noticed her brain didn't function as well on an empty stomach. 'Swing by a drive-through on the way back to Police Headquarters,' she told him.
The light turned green and he shot through the intersection. 'Sounds good to me.'
They ordered hamburgers, fries, and soft drinks.
Elise normally preferred healthy meals, but the frustration of the moment made her abandon her good intentions.
Once they had their food, Gould headed for the Savannah Police Department and parked in the lot across the street. On the way to Elise's office, they passed a group of coworkers, two of them homicide detectives Gould had been fighting with since his first day on the job. Elise had worked with both. Mid-thirties. Married, with kids.
'Cagney.' Gould gave them a nod. 'Lacey.'
Their real names: Detectives Mason and Avery.
'Heard you got assigned the zombie case,' Mason said, addressing Elise. He glanced at his partner, and pretty soon they were both hunched over, laughing into their fists like a couple of schoolboys.
'Appropriate, wouldn't you say?' Avery asked once he'd come up for air.
Gould shot Elise a curious look.
Apparently he was the one person in Savannah who didn't know everything about her-which was at least one bonus brought about by Gould's lack of social skills. Normally new recruits had Elise's history spelled out to them within days.
Avery's question was proof that no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't outrun your past. But Elise was always hoping people would at least lose interest.
That hadn't happened.
Everyone in the police force knew Elise had been abandoned in a cemetery as an infant. They knew that soon after her rescue a rumor began to circulate, claiming she was the cursed, illegitimate daughter of Jackson Sweet, a powerful white root doctor who'd died about the time Elise was born.
Nobody wanted a cursed infant, but eventually she was adopted into a rigid Christian family, where she was
