“Sidney? It’s Livia Cutty.”
“Dr. Cutty? Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, sorry to call so late.”
“No problem. I’m still working.”
“Me too. Actually couldn’t sleep after I started looking into the Sebold case.”
“Did you get a chance to look at Julian’s autopsy?”
“I did, and I think we need to meet.”
Sidney hesitated. “Find something?”
“I did. And I’m sure you’ll want to see it.”
“A discrepancy?”
“That’s a polite word for it,” Dr. Cutty said. “Complete incompetenceis another.”
“In what way?”
“The skull fracture.”
“What about it?”
“There’s no way it was caused by a boat oar.”
CHAPTER 22
Thursday, June 15, 2017
HER PLANE TOUCHED DOWN IN RALEIGH ON THURSDAY, AT10:02 a.m., and a cab dropped her at the chief medical examiner’s office just before 11:00 a.m. A nice young man led Sidney past a fenced-off room where the lights were low and a blue overhead projector threw images onto a screen while a doctor presented a case to a full room of his colleagues. A quick glance at the overhead’s photo showed a naked body on a metal table. Sidney quickly pulled her gaze away from the snow-white, bloated body and hurried past the chain link and into the elevator. Her stomach dropped as the clunky elevator jerked and descended into the bowels of the morgue.
When the doors opened, the young man pointed. “Down the hall and to your left.”
“Thanks,” Sidney said as she and Derrick exited the elevator and walked the fluorescent-lit hallway. Peach tiles lined the walls and the smell of bleach and high-school chemistry lab filled the air. Her heels echoed as she walked, loud clanking that reverberated from the sterile tiles around them. She looked down at Derrick’s feet and saw that he wore tennis shoes, quiet as a ninja.
“At least, they’ll know we’re coming,” Derrick said. “May even raise some of the dead bodies down here.”
Sidney gave him a sarcastic smile. “This place creeps me out.”
“Really? I feel right at home.”
They came to a set of boxed windows, the blinds of which were open to offer a voyeuristic view into the morgue. Twelve tables stood in symmetric rows of three. Shiny metal hoses hung from ceiling spigots over each table. Stainless-steel tubs lined the walls. Dr. Cutty stood with two other physicians around one of the tables. She was clearly in charge of whatever was happening, evidenced by the animated way in which she was organizing the scene. One of the doctors spotted Sidney and pointed at the window. Dr. Cutty turned and waved her in.
“Roll?” Derrick asked.
“Oh, yeah. Thishasto be good.”
“Creepy as hell, anyway,” Derrick said as he set the camera onto his shoulder, flicked his thumb, and adjusted the focus as he peered through the viewfinder. He followed Sidney into the morgue. He didn’t need her direction. After three documentaries together, he knew what she wanted. He angled the camera so the back of her head took up the foreground and in the distance, over Sidney’s shoulder, the three doctors, garbed in long coats and standing morbidly around an autopsy table, were blurred and ominous. As Sidney approached, their images hauntingly came into focus. It would make for a great intro shot, or even a “next time onThe Girl of Sugar Beach” teaser.
“Sidney,” Dr. Cutty said. “Good to see you.”
“You too. Thanks for having me down.”
“Of course.” Dr. Cutty opened her arms. “Welcome to my office. It can be a little drab down here, and when it’s empty, we get some echoing. Hope that doesn’t hurt with your video.”
