The Bear Trap

by Grant Pies

  “Yeah, like a vaccine, huh? That’s what you compared it to the other day?” Carter curved the corner of his mouth into a grin.

  “Precisely, a vaccine.” Olivia nodded. “This is just an extra dose of chaos. So, don’t feel bad involving me in whatever it is you’ve got going on.”

  Under her gaze, he shifted slightly in his bed, his side screaming at him, begging him to stay still.

  “That’s your cue to tell me what is going on.” She turned and peered out the small window in the storage room door, looking both ways before turning back.

  “It’s – I – I’m not sure.”

  “Not sure where to start? Or not sure what you actually are stuck in the middle of?”

  “Both.”

  “Will, I stuck my neck out for you! I think I’ve earned some answers, regardless of how fragmented.”

  “You’re right. I’m sorry. It’s a case I was working on.”

  “The one about the fire at your office?”

  “No. The missing girl. Rose.”

  “The picture you showed me?”

  “Mm-hm.” Carter pinched an ice chip in his hand and slowly moved it up to his mouth. “This girl – she, well I don’t know what happened to her. Not yet. But in looking for her, I’ve fallen into something. Something I can’t explain. The girl’s mother went to a sperm bank without her husband knowing. I thought her biological father could be a suspect, so I had a look at the donor records at the sperm bank—"

  “Wait a second.” Olivia held her hand in the air. “Please don’t tell me that was you on the news?”

  “I had no choice.”

  Lowering her head and holding her face in her hand, she let out a short chuckle. “For God’s sake. You broke into a sperm bank.” She spoke through gritted teeth, clearly wanting to yell but forcing herself to whisper. She chuckled again, either at the absurdity of robbing a sperm bank or at the mess she had stumbled into.

  “I was attacked just outside the sperm bank. Right as I came out the back. Two men tried to pull me into a van. But my partner stopped them.”

  Carter tried to shuffle his body up on the bed so he was sitting more upright. He inhaled sharply, stretching the skin around his gunshot.

  “Before, I thought the people at the sperm bank were the same people that burned down my office, but turns out I was wrong.”

  “So, you’re finally coming clean? It wasn’t teenagers?” Olivia smiled, taking pleasure in the confirmation that her hunch was right all along.

  “No teens. Just one ticked off husband with enough money to hire an arsonist.”

  “Then why’d these people attack you at the sperm bank?” Olivia asked, standing and pacing around the small room, her arms crossed over her chest. Carter could tell she was sorting the information in her mind, diagnosing, solving.

  “Because of the sperm donor records, I found her real dad – at least an alias for the guy. And he fathered another girl who went missing, and I bet if I check those records, I’ll find even more of his offspring that went missing.”

  “So, who is this guy? And why are his kids going missing?”

  “He’s a ghost. The name in the records was fake, fabricated identity, with employment records to a fake company and everything.”

  “Meaning…?”

  “Meaning it’s a dead end. Every lead is a dead end. At least was a dead end.”

  “I assume that means you’re getting to why you were shot? And where, by the way, is your partner?”

  “Sam? He’s … I don’t know. We got into an argument earlier. This is how he deals. Ignores my calls. Drinks. Anyway, I kept chasing down this lead. The fake identity. And it led me to a company called Accenture.”

  “Accenture … never heard of them.” Olivia shook her head. “Don’t tell me you went there, Will.”

  “I did.”

  “And they shot you?” Carter nodded. “Because you were trespassing! They could have shot you dead and not broken a single law!” Olivia threw her arms in the air.

  “I know. I know. And I’m sure they were shooting to kill, because what I saw in there was – it was … Jesus. There were people there, hooked up to IVs.” His stomach crawled as he pictured the woman whose skin was fading away.

  “Like patients?” Olivia asked.

  “Patients, maybe. Maybe prisoners. These people were hooked to machines pumping something in them. And this one woman – she – her skin was – it was like her body was eating itself alive. And another man had growths all over him, like tumors or something.”

  “Maybe they were treating them for something.”

  “No. They weren’t helping them.”

  “You don’t know that, Will. You assume something else was going on –”

  “They had organs there.” Carter lowered his voice to a whisper. “An entire fucking floor filled with frozen kidneys. Labeled. Categorized by blood type.”

  “They what?” A serious look fell over Olivia’s face and her eyes darted around the room.

  “Organs. In cold storage. I heard two men talking about shipping one off and getting rid of ones that expired, like they were pouring old milk down the sink.”

  “You mean for transplant?”

  “What other reason would you have kidneys separated by blood type and weight of the donor?”

  “And you say there was an entire floor of these? Of kidneys? Come on!”

  Pointing at his clothes balled up in the corner, Carter said, “Get my coat.” Olivia scooped up his coat and held it out. “The pocket, check the pocket.” She squeezed the coat until she felt something, then reached in and pulled out the vacuum sealed bag.

  “She flipped the bag in her hands. “Jesus!” By now it had thawed, and it dripped with perspiration. She dropped the coat on the floor and examined the organ. “Age fifteen.” She looked up at Carter with an expression of fear. “The donor’s age?”

  “That’s what I assume.”

  “How old was the girl you’re looking for?”

  “Fifteen.”

  “Jesus, Will. What have you gotten into?”

  “Now you see why I didn’t know where to start. How to explain everything.”

  Olivia didn’t take her eyes off the thawed kidney. “I’ve heard of people doing this, getting organs outside of UNOS. One group of doctors, right here in Chicago, were transplanting organs among a group of patients with illnesses that would otherwise disqualify them to receive or donate organs. HIV, hepatitis, that sort of thing.” She flipped the kidney in her hand again, studying it. “One person with HIV was dying, so they’d agree to give their liver to another person in their group with HIV. To them, it was better than no organ. But at least in that circumstance everyone consented.”

  “Well, I don’t think the owner of that kidney consented.” He nodded at the thawed bag.

  “Do you mind if I hang onto this? Maybe I could take a look at it in the lab upstairs. At least verify it is what we think it is.”

  “Sure,” Carter said, dropping his head back onto the pillow.

  “And you say they had more of these?”

  “Hundreds. For all I know I was just on the fucking kidney floor. The hearts could have been one floor below me.”

  “So, you think they’re selling them?” Olivia asked, still looking at the organ.

  “Probably making millions doing it.”

  “If that’s the case, then I’m afraid your partner is right. That girl you’re looking for is likely dead.” Olivia breathed in deep and sank down into the chair next to Carter’s bed.

  “Maybe … but I need to know for sure. Her parents need answers, even if they can’t get their daughter back.”

  “Do they need answers, or do you need them? And how are you getting an answer? You can’t go back there. You barely got out this time.” Olivia rubbed both eyes with her palms then ran her hands through her hair.

  “I don’t think I’ll need to go back there. I just have to find William Blair.”

  “Wh
o?”

  “CEO of Accenture. He’s got the same birth defect in his right eye. He’s Rose’s real father. I find him, and I find Rose.”

  King M.I.D.A.S.

  Carter looked at his cracked phone. The battery had died twelve hours ago. He’d used Olivia’s phone to call Sam, but he didn’t pick up. Even when he was sober, Sam wouldn’t answer a call from a number he didn’t know, so Carter wasn’t surprised.

  He laid in the storage room, listening to the shuffling feet walk by outside the door. Every now and then, people shouted, arguing over treatment or barking orders. He heard Olivia’s voice most of all, like his ears had adapted to pick her words out of a crowd. The British accent didn’t hurt either.

  The IV bag above his head was just about empty. Olivia had told him that this was the last of the pain meds. Carter hurt. His insides were sore, muscles ached. His twisted ankle was still on the mend, his bruised face still sore. But he agreed with Olivia. He needed to be clearheaded as soon as possible.

  He pulled his shirt up to examine his stomach. Around the gauze, his skin was a bruised blue, like an abstract watercolor painting. Reluctantly, he pulled the gauze away and saw the sewn wound. It was messy as far as scars went, but he was thankful for the work Olivia and the two others had done.

  After they’d talked, she’d left him alone. For him to get some rest, and for her to work her shift. Before, when she operated on Carter, she wasn’t on the clock, and she had just gotten off a long shift before that. Now, she was in the middle of another twenty-four-hour stint. Any breaks she got, she spent with Carter, checking his wounds and vitals, making notes on a legal pad. She vowed the notes were only for her, that she’d destroy them once he left.

  Carter had to keep telling himself that this was her job. She’d taken an oath to help those in need. This didn’t give them some unique connection or mean that she liked him. But he couldn’t help his attraction to her. He couldn’t deny she was beautiful, but her attitude towards life was something he hadn’t come across in another person. She was analytical and precise in her actions, but there was something underneath that was impulsive, like she was daring the world to throw something else at her to prove she could handle it.

  By now, Carter had been in the hospital for at least thirty-six hours. He was locked inside the room. Only Olivia and one janitor had the key, and the janitor supposedly liked to do as little as possible around here.

  He wondered if the men at Accenture were still searching for him.

  Carter lowered his feet off the bed to test his balance. The floor was cold on his bare soles. He eased more and more of his weight off the bed. Wincing and gritting his teeth, eventually he was standing. Letting out a sigh, he took a couple steps until his IV pulled him back. That’s enough, he thought and sat back on the bed.

  His mind drifted back to Rose. The beginning. He pulled his notebook out from his pocket and flipped through the messy writings, like something would jump out, something that would shed light on where Rose was. But there was nothing. Just more questions.

  There was a noise on the other side of the storage room door. The handle rattled and Olivia stepped inside.

  “How are you doing?” she asked. She looked tired.

  “Fine, I guess. You tell me.”

  She lifted his shirt. “The wound looks good … so far.” Olivia pulled his shirt down and dropped into the chair, like she had been waiting for ages to sit. She exhaled and let her eyes close for a short second.

  “Rough shift?”

  Nodding with her eyes still closed, Olivia said, “There was a massive pileup on the Eisenhower. Eight cars and one semi.”

  “Everyone okay?”

  “They wouldn’t be here if everyone was okay.”

  “Fair point.”

  “Truck driver died on scene. They sent us ten patients. One died in transport. Two more died in the trauma room. One more is still in surgery. The rest are going to be fine.”

  “I’m sorry.” Carter didn’t know what else to say, and he was embarrassed he couldn’t offer anything more. By now, Carter’s apologies probably rang pretty hollow to Olivia. “Is that tough?” Carter asked. “Dealing with so much death.”

  Olivia leaned back in her chair and ran her hands through her hair, retying her ponytail. “You get some doctors, and it’s like a competition to them. They care when people die only because they lost. You can tell the type because they get angry when they lose a patient—not upset, just pissed. A lot of good doctors are like that, but I wouldn’t want them to treat me. I want someone whose heart is in it. I’ll take compassion over competition any day.” She flipped through her scribbled notes for Carter’s treatment as she talked. “Others just shrug it off. They see dying as just part of life.”

  “What about you?”

  “Well, I’d be foolish to say death isn’t part of life.”

  “I meant what kind of doctor are you? Compassion? Competition? Or something else?”

  “How do you see me? You’ve been my patient twice now.”

  “I would say you are very compassionate. Great bedside manner.”

  “Thanks. That’s very kind of you.” Olivia smiled. “So many people come through here, it’s hard to give each your whole attention. There’s always another trauma right behind the last one.” Her eyes pulled closed a little.

  “But sometimes that pace can actually help get you through a shift. If there’s no down time, there’s no time to get upset or sad. I can’t lie, it’s hard sometimes. But around here, if you let it show that things upset you too much, or that something is getting to you, at least if you’re a woman, they look at you like you’re weak or unable to make tough decisions. They start talking to you differently, questioning your treatment plans.

  “It’s actually a bit better here than back in England. It’s a real boys’ club there. But there are parts of the job that balance out all the sadness. Any doctor worth anything should see more wins than losses. See? There I go, talking like it’s a game.” She shook her head.

  “No, I get what you mean,” Carter said.

  “Most days, I save someone or really help someone who’s in pain. That’s what keeps me going. It helps get me through the times like this.”

  “So, what do you do, after a day like this?”

  “Drink, usually.” She cracked a smile, and Carter could tell it was a much-needed one. She put her notes down and looked at Carter. Her brief smile faded. “The two that died here were a mother and a father. Their two kids are in the lounge, waiting for me to tell them how their parents are.”

  “Shit,” Carter mumbled. Whether it’s loss like the Bishop’s losing their daughter, or these children losing their parents, neither is preferable. It was all loss, and it was all bad.

  “It’s not the departed that suffer a death. Those two kids … their best-case scenario is they have grandparents who can take them in. Worst case, they end up in foster care, likely separated.” Olivia rubbed her eyes. “Fixing people physically is pretty easy, usually. I can do that pretty well. But it’s the rest that’s hard. Dealing with the emotional toll on family members. It’s so much harder than sewing someone up. So, I’m putting off talking to these two kids for both our sakes. I thought I could give them a few more minutes of thinking their lives still might go back to normal.”

  “You know it’s a tough job when an off the books back room surgery gives you a reprieve from giving two kids the worst news they could get.”

  “It is, but I love it.” She paused, breathed deep, preparing herself for the rest of her shift. “Speaking of tough jobs, will you be getting back out there?”

  “As soon as you give me the go ahead.”

  “You know, Will,” Olivia stood, “I get that you want to get to the bottom of all this. You want to solve it. Doctors aren’t much different from detectives. We all have a drive to solve, diagnose. But what you’re getting into … maybe you should walk away.”

  “Thanks for worrying about me, but this is
something I’ve gotta do,” Carter said.

  “It’s a job. It’s not a requirement you see this through.”

  “You’re telling me you’ve never done more than the job required? Stayed after a shift to look in on a patient? Or hung around to make sure a brother and sister found a foster home that could take them both together?”

  “Maybe. Maybe. But I’m not risking my life when I do those things. You’ve already been seriously hurt. Turn what you have over to the authorities and let them take it from here.”

  “I can’t count on them. All I have to give them are a few pictures and a good story,” Carter said, holding up his dead phone. “And who knows if I can still get anything off this.”

  “You’ve got a barcoded kidney. That’s got to be enough to get some reporter’s attention. Let the press take it from here.”

  “People like Blair own the press and the authorities. They own the papers and news stations. They control the police chiefs and detectives. Or at least they have friends who do. You don’t know Chicago like I do. Hell, it’s not just Chicago. Our whole country is like this,” Carter shook his head.

  “Are you at least going to take Sam with you? He can’t stay mad at you for much longer. You want my phone to call him one more time?”

  “It wouldn’t do any good. He’s not going to pick up. Knowing him, now that he’s off the job, he’s probably at some bar drinking until he blacks out. As for staying mad at me … I don’t know, he can be a pretty stubborn friend.”

  “Maybe you’re both stubborn. Maybe you should go see him.”

  “I’ll go see him.”

  Sitting back down, Olivia said, “Well since it’s clear you aren’t giving this pursuit up, I should tell you what I found.” She flipped through the same legal pad she’d used to take Carter’s notes on.

  “What you found?”

  “The kidney. I ran some tests on it.”

  “And?” Carter propped himself up in the bed.

  “There’s something in the organ, a preservation solution. It’s not uncommon to flush an organ with fluids. But this … this is different.” Olivia widened her eyes, like she was genuinely impressed with what she’d found. “A kidney usually only lasts about thirty hours outside the body, but this one is days old. Over a week, according to the packaging. And it’s still intact enough to transplant. This alone could make someone billions.”