cleared out. Use the garage entrance.’
Fletcher felt he should be with Nathan Santiago when he woke up. The man would be confused and frightened by the strange faces.
‘She’ll take good care of him,’ Paulson said. ‘Anything he needs, we’ve got it covered.’
‘I’ll leave once I know he’s stabilized. Tell the doctor to meet me outside.’
Fletcher needed to clean up the blood on his car seat. He couldn’t afford to have it seen, should he be pulled over during the drive to Manhattan. An unlikely scenario, but one he still had to consider.
The cabinet underneath the kitchen sink held liquid soap and rolls of kitchen towel but no soft cloths, towels or bucket. He ventured outside to the garage and saw a small green glow of light. It belonged to a security camera mounted in the far-right corner. He walked to the back shelves mounted against the wall and helped himself to a small plastic bucket and a stack of folded micro-fibre cloths.
Outside, on the right-hand side of the garage and in clear view, was a garden hose wrapped around an ornate wrought-iron hanger. After he filled the bucket, he added a dollop of soap and placed the spray nozzle on top of the holder.
Fletcher had finished mopping up most of the blood when he heard the porch door open behind him. Light and hesitant footsteps moved down the steps. The doctor. He dropped the bloody cloth into the bucket, cleaned his hands with a fresh piece of kitchen roll and slipped on his sunglasses before leaning back against his car.
43
Even behind the sunglasses’ dark lenses Fletcher could make out the lines etched around the woman’s eyes and mouth. The shoulder-length hair, at one time completely black, was now streaked with grey and white, and was brittle. She hadn’t zipped up her parka. She wore form-fitting chinos and a white shirt cut especially for her petite frame.
She was about to extend a hand when she suddenly tucked it back into her jacket pocket. Clearly Karim had instructed her to not to introduce herself.
‘I understand you wanted to speak to me.’
Fletcher nodded. He caught the distinct scent of her perfume again and in his mind’s eye saw the crime- scene photographs: a pregnant woman bound to an oak kitchen chair; her son and daughter, aged sixteen and fourteen, bound to similar chairs, duct tape strapped across their mouths. He saw blood-splatter patterns on white living room walls; gunshot wounds and soiled boot prints left on an oak hardwood floor.
‘Do you mind if we speak out here?’ she asked. ‘I’d like to stretch my legs, and the sea air feels good — unless you’re cold.’
‘I’m fine, thank you.’
Dr Sin zipped up her jacket and strolled towards the dunes overlooking the water. Fletcher fell into step with her. He suspected the woman knew who he was; her gaze had lingered too long on his face.
‘The man you brought here is in the early stages of septic shock,’ she said.
‘From the kidney removal.’
Dr Sin stopped walking. She had to crane her neck to look up at him.
‘How did you know?’
‘The shape and location of the wound,’ he said.
‘It wasn’t done by a butcher. A trained surgeon made that incision.’
‘A surgeon was, in fact, treating him.’
‘But not in a hospital.’
‘No. It was a… private setting.’
She digested that for a moment. ‘That makes sense,’ she said. ‘When I removed the staples, I found something… well, interesting.’
‘Maggots.’
Surprise bloomed on her face. ‘You’ve seen this sort of thing before?’
‘Upstairs, when I saw the wound and the way the tissue rippled, I suspected maggots since they consume necrotic and infected tissue. It’s an effective, low-cost method of cleaning an infected wound.’
She nodded. ‘American doctors used this technique in the prison camps during the Second World War. They’d take the infected soldiers out to the latrine area and let flies lay their eggs inside the wounds. Then they’d cover them, and after the maggots ate the infected and dead tissue, you’d have clean and sterile wounds. Some hospitals still use the treatment today. Are you a doctor?’
‘No.’
‘But clearly you have some sort of medical training.’
‘No. What else can you tell me?’
She folded her arms across her chest. ‘Here’s what I don’t understand,’ she said, examining the tops of her shoes. ‘Using Lasix after a kidney removal is typical, as the drug stimulates kidney function and urine output. Patients who’ve had a kidney removed are susceptible to infection, so treatment with a wide-spectrum antibiotic is, again, typical. A surgeon or any other reasonably trained medical person would know not to administer Demerol to a patient who is clearly showing signs of septic shock — fever, an increased heart rate and tachypnea, which is rapid breathing. Administering Demerol or another type of narcotic to someone in this condition causes decreased blood pressure, which more often than not results in death. Is there anything else you can tell me?’
‘I’ve told you everything I know,’ Fletcher said. ‘Did he speak to you?’
‘No, and I don’t think he’ll be able to for some time. At the moment, he’s stabilized. After I stemmed the bleeding, I flushed the wound with sterile saline and drained off the puss with a surgical drain and a suction bulb, then packed it with sterile gauze and dressed it with a sterile dressing. Now we have to wait and see about the sepsis. I need to bring him to a hospital. I spoke with Mr Karim, and he’s going to make arrangements at Sloan- Kettering in Manhattan. I work there. We’re going to admit him under a false name. The paperwork will be fudged so no one will find him.’
‘When will you move him?’
‘In a few hours. He needs to rest, and Mr Karim needs some time to procure the documentation and work out a cover story.’
‘Thank you for your time and your efforts, Doctor.’
Fletcher had turned to leave when she said, ‘Mr Karim is a good man. I met him while I was living in Brookline — that’s in Massachusetts. Three… men broke into my house. I was married with two children and pregnant with my third. They tied us up, and after they robbed us, one decided to come back.’ She brushed the hair blowing around her face and breathed deeply, holding it for a moment. ‘I still don’t know how I managed to survive.’
‘I’m sorry for your loss.’
‘The Boston police never caught the men responsible.’ She faced the sea, watching the wind bending the sea grass. ‘Mr Karim, however, believed he could find them. He seemed so… absolute in his resolve, that I said yes. When I asked him the cost for his services, he baulked. He said he provided pro bono assistance for victims of violence. Then he told me what had happened to his son, Jason.
‘Months passed, and then one day Mr Karim showed up and told me that justice had been served. That I wouldn’t have to live out the rest of my life wondering if those men would come back for me. To use his words, “The matter had been put to bed.” I wanted to know details but he refused to tell me anything — their names, how they had been found. He said it was for my own protection.’
‘I don’t mean to be rude, Doctor, but I must be leaving.’
‘When Mr Karim called and asked me to provide him with some discreet medical service, I was only too grateful to help. He didn’t tell me your name, just that he trusted you implicitly. Before he hung up, he mentioned you had worked for him on a number of occasions. You helped Mr Karim find the men who killed my family, didn’t you?’
Fletcher did not reply.
‘He didn’t tell me anything, if that’s what you’re wondering,’ she said. ‘When I saw you walk into the room, I
