“Nothing yet,” Jack said. “And to be truthful, I’ve kinda dropped the ball. I meant to check with Toxicology about the death-in-custody case, but it slipped my mind. And in respect to the gunshot case, I haven’t even started the reconstruction. To be totally honest, that’s going to be a while. I’ve been busy with that contagious case that I took after you left.”
“Any change in your thinking about the suicide/homicide case?”
“No. I’m not going to change my mind about that one. I’m going to sign it out as a probable homicide. You better advise your friend Walter he needs legal representation.”
“What’s happening on the home front with you? Any change for the better?”
“I wish,” Jack said. “Last night Laurie’s mom was as irritating as ever. She’d found a family friend psychiatrist-cum-businessman who also subscribes to the discredited MMR vaccine theory of autism. Once again I allowed myself to get drawn into an argument of sorts just when Laurie showed up from work. She accused me of baiting her mother. I mean, talk about missing the point.”
“Is the nanny still threatening to leave?”
“Laurie says she spoke with her this morning and claims everything is hunky-dory in that arena. I’ll find out more tonight when I get to talk with Caitlin myself.”
“I feel for you, buddy.”
After hanging up with Lou, instead of going on the Internet as he’dplanned, Jack put in yet another call. This time it was to Bart Arnold. He was hoping to catch the man before he left for the day, as it was now almost six. As Jack listened to the electronic sound of the phone ringing, he bemoaned how much he was being forced to be on the phone of late, despite how much he detested it. When all was said and done, Jack was a man of action, which was why he had chosen surgery as a specialty when he finished medical school.
“Hello, Dr. Stapleton,” Bart managed between some heavy breathing, suggesting he had had to run for the phone. “You just caught me. A second later and I would have been in the elevator lobby and wouldn’t have heard my desk phone.”
“I’m glad I got you,” Jack said. “I have some interesting news for you. I now have a name for the subway death. It’s Carol Weston Stewart.”
“Good work! How on earth did you manage? Hank Monroe and I have gotten zilch.”
“A bit of luck was probably the most critical,” Jack admitted. “Out of desperation, I just started calling all the city’s heart transplant programs and described a thirtyish Caucasian female with a distinctive tattoo. I hit pay dirt at MGH, who did her surgery. I got confirmation with a photo.”
“Simple but obviously effective,” Bart said. “Is she from Brooklyn like we thought?”
“I don’t know yet,” Jack said. “All I know is the name. MGH claims they don’t know any of the patient’s details. Can you imagine? They did the surgery for a sister hospital in New Jersey called Dover Valley. Are you familiar with it?”
“I’m not familiar with that particular hospital,” Bart said. “But I know where Dover is. I live in Jersey just across the GW Bridge. Dover’s due west about thirty miles or so. It’s a rural area but within commuting distance of the city.”
“I was told the Dover hospital paid all the bills for the patient’s surgery directly. Does that sound weird to you?”
“I haven’t the faintest idea,” Bart admitted. “With all the consolidation going on in healthcare, nothing surprises me anymore.”
“It surprised me,” Jack said. “It was the president of MGH who told me, and to be honest, I trust him about as far as I can throw him. He’s the shameless-businessman hospital administrator type.”
“Do you want me to follow up with this Dover Valley Hospital in the morning?” Bart asked.
“Thank you, but no,” Jack said. “I just heard back a few minutes ago from the lab that it seems as if an unknown pathogenic virus is involved. Thank goodness we haven’t seen any additional cases, but I’m still worried we will at some point. I’m going to look into the hospital myself. I don’t want you MLI types having all the fun.”
“Oh, yeah, of course,” Bart joked. “Knock yourself out!”
“How long would you estimate it would take to drive out to Dover, New Jersey?”
“You are actually going to go all the way out there yourself?” Bart asked. As a matter of policy, he wasn’t accustomed to the medical examiners doing their own field investigations.
“I don’t think a phone call or two is going to be adequate,” Jack said. “My intuition is telling me there is something about this case that is out of the ordinary. I think it’s worth looking into above and beyond getting Carol Weston Stewart’s details. When I know more, I’ll fill you in.”
“Drive time to Dover will depend on the traffic,” Bart said. “I’d avoid rush hour if I were you. If you’re driving from here, you’d use the Lincoln Tunnel. It’s a pretty straight shot out Route Three. With no traffic, I’d guesstimate forty-five minutes.”
“Thanks, Bart,” Jack said. “I’ll keep you informed.”
“Wait! Hang on,” Bart said. “I’m glad you called. I had tried to call you an hour earlier. I have some information for you. Hank Monroe and I have really put the pressure on the DNA people to get some stat results, which they’ve done. Hank has gone ahead and used it for CODIS and NamUs, which is all pending but now academic since you have a name.But there was something about the results that the DNA people thought you’d like to know, and I promised to tell you ASAP. The CODIS results for the patient and the heart were exactly the same. They matched perfectly in all twenty loci.”
“That can’t be,” Jack blurted out. Once again, the subway death case was playing with him, teasing him, or, more accurately, tormenting him. “Something got screwed up,” he added. “It was a donor heart. I was told it was a good match, but it can’t have the same DNA.”
“That’s what they said. So they went to Histology and got another piece of the heart and ran it again. The results were the same.”
