“I guess I don’t feel as if I deserve to be all that happy,” Jack said.
Terese thought about that for a moment, then smiled. “Well, I shouldn’t imagine I’d understand everything,” she said. “Good night.”
“Good night,” Jack echoed.
21
SATURDAY, 8:30 A.M., MARCH 23, 1996
True to her word, Terese had come into Jack’s room and awakened him several times during the night. Each time they’d talked for a few minutes. By the time Jack awakened in the morning he felt conflicted. He was still thankful for Terese’s ministrations, but he felt embarrassed by how much of himself he’d revealed.
As Terese made him breakfast, it became apparent that she felt as awkward as he. At eight-thirty, with mutual relief, they parted company in front of Terese’s building. She was off to the studio for what she thought would be a marathon session. He headed for his apartment.
Jack spent a few hours cleaning up the debris left by the Black Kings. With some rudimentary tools he even repaired his door as best he could.
With his apartment taken care of, Jack headed to the morgue. He wasn’t scheduled to work that weekend, but he wanted to spend more time on his backlog of autopsies that had yet to be signed out. He also wanted to check on any infectious cases that might have come in during the night from the General. Knowing that there had been three reportedly fulminant cases of Rocky Mountain spotted fever in the emergency room the day before, he was afraid of what he might find.
Jack missed his bike and thought about getting another one. To get to work he took the subway, but it wasn’t convenient. He had to change trains twice. The New York subway system was fine for getting from north to south, but west to east was another story entirely.
Even with the multiple train changing Jack still had to walk six blocks. With a light rain falling and no umbrella, he was wet by the time he got to the medical examiner’s office at noon.
Weekends were far different than weekdays at the morgue. There was much less commotion. Jack used the front entrance and had the receptionist buzz him into the ID area. A distraught family was in one of the identification rooms. Jack could hear sobbing as he passed by.
Jack found the schedule that listed the doctors on call for the weekend and was pleased to see that Laurie was among them. He also found the master list of cases that had come in the previous night. Scanning it, he was sickened to see a familiar name. Nancy Wiggens had been brought in at four A.M.! The provisional diagnosis was Rocky Mountain spotted fever.
Jack found two more cases with the same diagnosis: Valerie Schafer, aged thirty-three, and Carmen Chavez, aged forty-seven. Jack assumed they were the other two cases in the General’s emergency room the day before.
Jack went downstairs and peeked into the autopsy room. Two tables were in use. Jack couldn’t tell who the doctors were, but judging by height he guessed one of them was Laurie.
After changing into scrubs and donning protective gear, Jack entered through the washroom.
“What are you doing here?” Laurie asked when she caught sight of Jack. “You’re supposed to be off enjoying yourself.”
“Just can’t keep away.” Jack quipped. He leaned over to see the face of the patient Laurie was working on and his heart sank. Staring up at him with lifeless eyes was Nancy Wiggens. In death she appeared even younger than she had in life.
Jack quickly looked away.
“Did you know this individual?” Laurie asked. Her own emotional antennae had instantly picked up Jack’s reaction. “Vaguely,” Jack admitted.
“It’s a terrible thing when health-care workers succumb to their patients’ illnesses,” Laurie remarked. “The patient I did before this one was a nurse who’d ministered to the patient you did yesterday.”
“I’d assumed as much,” Jack said. “What about the third case?”
“I did her first,” Laurie said. “She was from central supply. I couldn’t quite figure how she contracted it.”
“Tell me about it,” Jack said. “I’ve done two other people from central supply. One with plague and one with tularemia. I can’t understand it either.”
“Somebody better figure it out,” Laurie said.
“I couldn’t agree more,” Jack said. Then he pointed to Nancy’s organs. “What’d you find?”
“It’s all been consistent with Rocky Mountain spotted fever,” Laurie said. “Are you interested to see?”
“I sure am,” Jack said.
Laurie took time out to show all the relevant pathology to Jack. Jack told her the findings were the mirror image of those he’d seen with Lagenthorpe.
“It makes you wonder why just three got sick, since they were so sick,” Laurie said. “The interval from the onset of symptoms to the time of death was a lot shorter than usual. It suggests that the microbes were particularly pathogenic, yet if they were, where are the other patients? Janice told me that as far as the hospital knows there are no more cases.”
“There was a similar pattern with the other diseases,” Jack said. “I can’t explain it, just like I can’t explain so many other aspects of these outbreaks. That’s why they’ve been driving me crazy.”
Laurie glanced up at the clock and was surprised by the time. “I’ve got to get a move on here,” she said. “Sal has to leave early.”
“Why don’t I help?” Jack offered. “Tell Sal he can go now.”
“Are you serious?” Laurie asked.
“Absolutely,” Jack said. “Let’s get it done.”
Sal was happy to leave a little early. Laurie and Jack worked well together and finished up the case in good time. They walked out of the autopsy room together.
“How about a bite up in the lunchroom?” Laurie asked. “My treat.”
“You’re on,” Jack said.
They disposed of their isolation gear and disappeared into their respective locker rooms. When Jack was dressed, he went out into the hall and waited for Laurie to appear.
“You didn’t have to wait for…” Laurie began to say, but stopped. “Your jaw is swollen,” she said.
“That’s not all,” Jack said. He bared his teeth and pointed to his left incisor. “See the chip?” he asked.
“Of course I do,” Laurie said. Her hands went onto her hips and her eyes narrowed. She looked like an irate mother confronting a naughty child. “Did you fall off of that bike?” she asked.
“I wish,” Jack said with a mirthless laugh. He then told her the whole story minus the part about Terese. Laurie’s expression changed from mock anger to disbelief.
“That’s extortion,” she said indignantly.
“I suppose it is in a way,” Jack said. “But come on, let’s not let it upset our gourmet lunch.”
They did the best they could with the vending machines on the second floor. Laurie got a soup while Jack settled on a tuna-fish salad sandwich. They took their food to a table and sat down.
“The more I think about what you’ve told me, the crazier I think it sounds,” Laurie said. “How’s your apartment?”
“A bit dilapidated,” Jack said. “But it wasn’t so great before this happened, so it doesn’t much matter. The worst thing is that they took my bike.”
“I think you should move,” Laurie said. “You shouldn’t be living there anyway.”
“It’s only the second break-in,” Jack said.
“I hope you’re not planning on staying in tonight,” Laurie said. “How depressing.”
“No, I’m busy tonight,” Jack said. “I’ve got a group of nuns coming into town who I’m supposed to show around.”
Laurie laughed. “Hey, my folks are having a little dinner party tonight. Would you care to come along? It would be a lot more cheerful than sitting in your plundered apartment.”
“That’s very thoughtful of you,” Jack said. As with Terese’s actions the night before, this invitation was totally unexpected. Jack was moved.
“I would enjoy your company,” Laurie said. “What do you
say?”
“You do realize that I’m not particularly social,” Jack said.
“I’m aware of that,” Laurie said. “I don’t mean to put you on the spot. You don’t even have to tell me now. The dinner is at eight and you can call me a half hour before if you decide to come. Here’s my number.” She wrote it on a napkin and handed it to him.
“I’m afraid I’m not such good company at dinner parties,” Jack said.
“Well, it’s up to you,” Laurie said. “The invitation stands. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got two more cases to do.”
Jack watched Laurie leave. He’d been impressed with her from the first day, but he’d always thought of her as one of his more talented colleagues, nothing more. But now suddenly he saw how strikingly attractive she was with her sculptured features, soft skin, and beautiful auburn hair.
Laurie waved before slipping out the door, and Jack waved back. Disconcertedly he stood up, discarded his trash, and headed up to his office. In the elevator he wondered what was happening to him. It had taken him years to stabilize his life, and now his well-constructed cocoon seemed to be unraveling.
Once inside his office Jack sat down at his desk. He rubbed his temples to try to calm himself. He was becoming agitated again, and he knew that when he became agitated he could be impulsive.
As soon as he felt capable of concentrating he pulled the closest folder toward him and flipped it open. Then he went to work.
By four o’clock Jack had accomplished as much paperwork as he could handle. Leaving the medical examiner’s office, he took the subway. As he sat in the bouncing rail cars with the other silent, zombielike people, he told himself he had to get another bike. Commuting underground like a mole was not going to work for him.
Arriving home, Jack lost no time. He took his stairs two at a time. Finding a drunk, homeless person asleep on the first landing didn’t faze him. He just stepped over the man and continued. With his anxiety Jack needed exercise, and the sooner he got out on the basketball court the happier he’d be.
Jack hesitated briefly at his door. It seemed to be in the same shape as he’d left it. He unlocked it and peered into the apartment. It, too, seemed undisturbed. Somewhat superstitiously Jack walked over to the kitchen and looked in. He was relieved to see that no one was there.
In the bedroom Jack pulled out his basketball gear: oversized sweatpants, a turtleneck, and a sweater. He quickly changed. After lacing up his hightops, he grabbed a headband, a basketball, and was back out the door.
Saturday afternoon was always a big day at the playground, provided the weather cooperated. Usually twenty to thirty people showed up ready to run, and this particular Saturday was no exception. The morning rain had long since stopped. As Jack approached the court he counted fourteen people waiting to play. That meant he’d probably have to wait through two more games beyond the present match before he could hope to join.
Jack nodded subdued greetings to some of the people he recognized. The etiquette required that no emotion be shown. After he’d stood on the sidelines for the appropriate amount of time he asked who had winners. He was told that David had winners. Jack was acquainted with David.
Careful to suppress the eagerness he felt, Jack sidled up to David.
“You got winners?” Jack asked, pretending to be uninterested.
“Yeah, I got winners,” David said. He went through some minor ducking and weaving that Jack had learned to recognize as posturing. Jack had also learned by sore experience not to imitate it.
“You got five?” Jack asked.
David already had his team lined up so Jack had to go through the same process with the next fellow who had winners. That was Spit, whose nickname was based on one of his less endearing mannerisms. Luckily for Jack, Spit only had four players and since he knew Jack’s outside shooting ability, he agreed to add Jack to his roster.
With his entrance into the game now assured, Jack took his ball to one of the unused side baskets and began warming up. He had a mild headache and his jaw ached, but otherwise he felt better than he’d expected. He’d been more concerned about his stomach once he started running around, but that didn’t bother him in the slightest.
While Jack was busy shooting foul shots Warren showed up. After he’d gone through the same process that Jack had done in order to get into the game, he wandered over to where Jack was practicing.
“Hey, Doc, what’s happening?” Warren asked. He snatched the ball from Jack’s hands and quickly tossed in a shot that hit nothing but net. Warren’s movements were uncannily fast.
“Not much,” Jack said, which was the correct reply. Warren’s question was really a greeting in disguise.
They shot for a while in a ritual fashion. First Warren would shoot until he missed, which wasn’t often. Then Jack would do the same. While one was shooting the other rebounded.
“Warren, let me ask you a question,” Jack said during one of his turns shooting. “You ever hear of a gang by the name of the Black Kings?”
“Yeah, I think so,” Warren said. He fed Jack the ball after Jack had put in one of his patented long-distance jump shots. “I think they’re a bunch of losers from down near the Bowery. How come you’re asking?”
“Just curious,” Jack said. He sank another long jump shot. He was feeling good.
Warren snatched the ball out of the air as it came through the basket. But he didn’t pass it back to Jack. Instead he walked it to Jack.
“What do you mean, ‘curious’?” Warren asked. He drilled Jack with his gun-barrel eyes. “You ain’t been curious about any gangs before.”
One of the other things that Jack knew about Warren was that he was keenly intelligent. Had he had the opportunity, Jack was sure he’d be a doctor or a lawyer or some other professional.
“I happened to see it tattooed on a guy’s forearm,” Jack said.
“The guy dead?” Warren asked. He was aware of what Jack did for a living.
“Not yet,” Jack said. He rarely risked sarcasm with his playground acquaintances, but on this occasion it had just slipped out.
Warren regarded him warily and continued to hold the ball. “You pulling my chain, or what?”
“Hell no,” Jack said. “I may be white, but I ain’t stupid.”
Warren smiled. “How come you got banged up on your jaw?”
Warren didn’t miss a trick. “Just caught an elbow,” Jack said. “I was in the wrong place at the wrong lime.”
Warren handed over the ball. “Let’s warm up with a little one-on-one,” he said. “Hit-or-miss for the ball.”
Warren got in the game before Jack, but Jack eventually played, and played well. Spit’s players seemed unbeatable, to the chagrin of Warren, who had to play against them on several occasions. By six o’clock Jack was exhausted and soaked to the skin.
Jack was perfectly happy to leave when everyone else departed en masse for dinner and their usual Saturday-night revelry. The basketball court would be empty until the following afternoon.
A long, hot postgame shower was a distinct pleasure for Jack. When he was finished he dressed in clean clothes and looked into his refrigerator. It was a sad scene. All his beer had been drunk by the Black Kings. As far as food was concerned he was limited to an old wedge of cheddar cheese and two eggs of dubious age. Jack closed the refrigerator. He wasn’t all that hungry anyway.
In the living room Jack sat on his threadbare couch and picked up one of his medical journals. His usual evening routine was to read until nine-thirty or ten and then fall asleep. But tonight he was still restless despite the exercise, and he found he couldn’t concentrate.
Jack tossed the journal aside and stared at the wall. He was lonely, and although he was lonely almost every night, he felt it more keenly at that moment. He kept thinking about Terese and how compassionate she’d been the night before.
Jack impulsively went to the desk, got out the phone book, and called Willow and Heath. He wasn’t sure if the phones would be
manned after hours, but eventually someone answered. After several wrong extensions he finally got Terese on the phone.
With his heart inexplicably pounding in his chest, Jack casually told her he was thinking of getting something to eat.
“Is this an invitation?” Terese questioned.
“Well,” Jack said hesitantly. “Maybe you’d like to come along, provided you haven’t eaten yet.”
“This is the most roundabout invitation I’ve gotten since Marty Berman asked me to the junior prom,” Terese said with a laugh. “You know what he did? He used the conditional. He said: ‘What would you say if I asked you?’”
“I guess Marty and I have some things in common,” Jack said.
“Hardly,” Terese said. “Marty was a skinny runt. But as for dinner, I’ll have to take a rain check. I’d love to see you, but you know about this deadline we have. We’re hoping that we can get it under control tonight. I hope you understand.”
“Absolutely,” Jack said. “No problem.”
“Call me tomorrow,” Terese said. “Maybe in the afternoon we can get together for coffee or something.”
Jack promised he’d call and wished her good luck. Then he hung up the phone, feeling even lonelier for having made an effort to be sociable after so many years and having been turned down.
Surprising himself anew, Jack found Laurie’s number and called her. Trying to cover his nervousness with humor, he told her that the group of nuns he was expecting had to cancel.
“Does that mean you’d like to come to dinner?” Laurie asked.
“If you’ll have me,” Jack said.
“I’d be delighted,” Laurie said.
22
SUNDAY, 9:00 A.M., MARCH 24, 1996
Jack was poring over one of his forensic science journals when his phone rang. Since he had yet to speak that morning his voice was gravelly when he answered.
“I didn’t wake you, did I?” Laurie asked.
“I’ve been up for hours,” Jack assured her.