Organ Donor: A Medical Thriller (Dr. Beckett Campbell, Medical Examiner Book 1)

by Patrick Logan

  Beckett took the bottle of Scotch off the table and poured himself a glass. He drank greedily, barely tasting the liquid as it rolled aver his tongue. Knowing Ron’s taste, he expected it to be something cheap and powerful.

  He wasn’t disappointed.

  “I can’t believe you drink this shit,” Beckett said under his breath. Then he raised his eyes to look at Ron once more. In the bright lights of his home, Beckett realized that Ron wasn’t just sickly looking, but he looked terrible. His eyes were sunken, his cheeks sallow. “In fact, I don’t think you should be drinking much at all.”

  “Yeah, I’m feeling a little under the weather these days. But it’ll pass; it always does.”

  Beckett considered this for a moment.

  “These things pass… until they don’t; until the last one.”

  “Thanks, Aristotle,” Ron replied with a chuckle.

  “I consider myself more of a Socrates Marxist, to be honest,” Beckett shot back, choking down another sip.

  Despite the kerosene-like flavor, or maybe because of it, the alcohol was doing its job. And, as was always the case, the two men spoke more freely with every subsequent drink.

  “Hey, I heard a rumor that some of your students aren’t that happy with you.”

  Beckett shrugged.

  “What else is new. They’re used to being coddled, to being given a textbook that they can regurgitate to pass a test. Forensic pathology isn’t like that; there are no cut and dry answers. Every case is different, every one requires them to use their measly brains to solve. But try telling that to Dr. Hollenbeck.”

  Ron laughed.

  “Well, that’s exactly who I heard from, in fact. Dr. Hollenbeck was muttering to himself when he came to see you at your office, something about abusing your students. Speaking of which, you have the McEwing kid in your class?”

  The mention of Grant triggered something in Beckett and he took a moment to answer.

  “Yeah, he’s one of my R-1s. He’s… a different cat.”

  Ron leaned in close.

  “How so?”

  This time when Beckett’s eyes narrowed, they stayed that way.

  “He’s got an incredible memory… Why are you so interested in the McEwing kid?”

  Ron leaned back and sipped his drink.

  “Funding… it’s always about funding. In addition to procuring your lost liver, it looks like Dr. Singh is making some inquiries about funding for the new transplant wing. Boring shit, to tell you the truth.”

  Beckett recalled his meeting with Dr. Singh and the way the man had been so candid about the funding issues.

  “What about the funding?”

  Ron shrugged.

  “You’re on the board, aren’t you?”

  “What do you want me to do about it?”

  “Rumor has it that more funding is coming the Unit’s way, enough to actually get the doors open. I’m thinking that maybe you can steer the McEwing kid in another direction, just for a little bit.”

  It took a moment for Beckett to clue into what Ron was saying.

  “…so that Dr. Singh looks like an asshole for the whole ribbon-cutting ceremony when the place stays closed. And, maybe—just maybe—they start to look for a new Director?”

  Ron smiled and raised his glass.

  “I knew you were special even back when you were a budding young medical student.”

  Beckett finished his drink and placed the empty glass on the table.

  “I’ll see what I can do. Now, I don’t mean to be a dick, but I’m tired as hell—and it looks like we can both use some rest. What do you say?”

  I’m thinking that Grant McEwing is going to have more to worry about than funding in the near future, Beckett thought.

  Ron picked up a bottle and tilted it onto its side. Then he emptied the contents, splitting it between both glasses.

  “One for the road?”

  Chapter 37

  “Suzan… Suzaaaaaan… wake up Suzan.”

  Beckett stared down at Suzan’s face, the slackness of her jaw, her slightly open mouth, the relaxed skin around her eyes.

  She stirred and Beckett leaned forward. As he did, moonlight reflected off the scalpel in his hand.

  “Suzaaaaan…”

  The woman’s eyes snapped open and she looked up at Beckett, a startled expression on her face.

  Instinct took over and she tried to move, tried to sit up.

  Only she couldn’t.

  Suzan pressed her chin against her chest and Beckett followed her eyes. He stared at the heavy leather belts that secured both her legs and arms to the bed.

  Her eyes flicked back up to his.

  “Beckett? What are you doing? What’s going on?”

  Beckett swallowed hard.

  “Why am I tied up? Why are you holding that… Beckett, what the hell is going on?”

  Beckett averted his gaze; he couldn’t stare at her any longer without tears formed in his own eyes.

  He looked down at her body, at the lacy bra that covered her breasts, her white underwear. She was in great shape, but the moonlight gave her goose-pimpled flesh an odd hue.

  Blue… like that of a corpse.

  “Beckett? Why are you doing this?”

  Even as he brought the scalpel close to her wrist, Beckett couldn’t look at her face. Suzan’s hand tightened into a fist, but the bindings held fast.

  “Why?” she pleaded.

  “Because,” Beckett said as he pressed the scalpel against her skin, drawing a thin red line of blood. “Because you killed, Suzan. And now you have to pay.”

  Chapter 38

  Beckett awoke soaked in sweat. The sheets were so damp that when he tried to press himself up onto his elbows, he slipped back down onto his pillow.

  He closed his eyes and then immediately opened them again when he saw Suzan’s face staring back.

  “Please,” he said into the darkness. His tongue was thick and he felt lightheaded as he always did when he drank too much the night prior. Or was it still the night off?

  Beckett turned his head to the clock on the bedside table.

  The glowing green numbers read 5:35.

  Traditionally not much of a morning person, or an early riser, Beckett had found himself waking earlier and earlier each day. As a result, he’d been relegated to only a few hours of fitful sleep every night.

  But that was the beautiful thing about the human body; it could adapt to a great number of different scenarios, be they environmental are self-imposed stresses.

  But the mind… the mind wasn’t nearly as plastic as the body.

  With a groan, Beckett managed to sit up and then waited for the world to stop spinning. When this sensation subsided, he made his way to his bathroom and chugged a glass of lukewarm water.

  It wasn’t just the nightmares that were keeping him up at night, the terrified faces of his victims that appeared in his sleep. It was also the sheer gravity of what he’d done.

  Taking a person’s life, no matter how much they deserved to die, changed you in ways that were irreversible.

  And yet, that wasn’t the worst part; the worst part was the expectation—no the need to do it again that was nearly crippling.

  “Fuck,” he grumbled as he peeled off his drenched t-shirt and boxers and stepped into the shower.

  Tonight, Beckett thought. I have to take care of this tonight if I ever want to sleep soundly again.

  ***

  A hot coffee and a bagel with butter later, Beckett started to feel little better. The passage of time, no matter how small, also helped.

  He parked in his spot outside NYU medical and then walked inside, keeping his head low.

  Once inside the building, several colleagues said hello, but Beckett stemmed potential conversation by keeping his head low. He didn’t feel like speaking to anyone.

  The only person he couldn’t pass without engaging was Delores.

  “Morning,” he said, raising his coffee cup in mock salute.r />
  Dolores nodded, clearly still sour from the way that he’d unfairly berated her.

  “Dr. Hollenbeck was looking for you,” she said curtly.

  Beckett scratched his head.

  “Does he ever sleep—do you, for that matter?”

  He’d meant this as a joke, but Delores wasn’t buying it. She pressed her lips together tightly.

  “I could ask you the same thing.”

  Beckett nodded.

  “I wish I could,” he said as he started down the hallway toward his office.

  “Dr. Campbell?”

  Beckett turned.

  “Yeah?”

  “There’s a student waiting for you in your office.”

  Beckett felt his lip curl and his heart start to race.

  He didn’t feel in the mood to speak to anybody, least of all Grant McEwing. They’d chat soon enough, but not now. Now he had to keep up appearances. Now he had to get ready for class so that people didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary… more out of the ordinary.

  He debated turning and leaving just then, going straight to his class even though it didn’t start for another hour, but figured that that would raise further suspicion.

  There were just too many threads out there, too many things that pointed directly at him should anything sinister befall Grant.

  With a sigh he thanked Delores again.

  “FYI, Suzan’s in your office, too. And she didn’t seem… herself.”

  Beckett stopped cold.

  “S-S-Suzan… Suzan’s in there with him?”

  Dolores eyed him curiously.

  “Not with him… with her.”

  Chapter 39

  “What can I do for you?” Beckett said as he entered his office. While he was grateful that Grant wasn’t the student in question, he would have picked the McEwing kid over Suzan in a heartbeat.

  Suzan, tied to the bed, dressed only in her underwear.

  “Why are you doing this, Beckett?”

  Maria glanced up at him, a scowl on her face.

  “It’s not fair,” the woman began like a petulant child.

  Beckett frowned. He loved teaching, but he hated babysitting.

  “What else is new,” he grumbled.

  Suzan, the expression on her face matching his own, glared at him.

  “What happened to your phone?” she demanded. It became clear in that moment that her being here had nothing to do with Maria.

  She was here to see him.

  Beckett averted his eyes—he couldn’t bear to look at her, knowing what she’d done.

  Keep it together, Beckett. You can’t afford to make any mistakes.

  “Dropped in the shitter this morning after taking a dump,” he said, looking instead at Maria as he spoke.

  The woman’s eyelids retracted to their maximum as Beckett deliberately stepped between Suzan and Maria, and then squatted on his haunches.

  “I’m sorry, please, tell me what your problem is.”

  Clearly confused by the room dynamic, Maria took a moment to collect her bearings.

  “I just don’t think it’s fair… you don’t teach us anything on the first day and then on the second they give us a final exam? I wasn’t ready! I have a very specific routine that I go through before every test I take, and because the final was such a surprise, I didn’t get to do any of it. I think… I think that this significantly affected my performance.”

  Beckett stared at the woman as if she were a five-year-old instead of in her mid-twenties.

  “You know what? I think you’re right.”

  Beckett turned to Suzan and snapped his fingers before pointing at the pile of tests on his desk.

  “Suzan, doll, would you be so kind as to pass me Maria’s test?”

  Suzan’s scowl became a sneer, but she did as he asked and handed it over.

  “All right, Maria let’s see here,” Beckett looked down at the paper in his hands. He tried to keep a straight face, but when he saw how poorly she’d done, he faltered for a moment. “Suzan, the red pen, please?”

  Suzan threw it at him and he barely managed to grab it after it bounced off his chest.

  Beckett added a zero after the ten percent she’d scored, then turned the page for Maria to see. With placating smile, he said, “Problem solved. Congratulations, you aced this one!”

  Again, that same bug-eyed expression.

  How does she get into one of the most exclusive residency programs in the state and scores ten percent on an exam that a first year med student could at least pass? Is this her first introduction to pathology? Shit, to anatomy? To medicine?

  Something inside Beckett’s head suddenly clicked.

  If Grant was behind all of this, then this wasn’t his first crime. Nobody goes straight from parking tickets to murder and organ removal.

  Somewhere… somewhere there’s a record of other, minor crimes. Of a pattern of escalation.

  Beckett realized that with Suzan in the room with him, he was trying to rationalize his way out of what was to come.

  But that wasn’t a bad thing… was it?

  “Is this… is this a trick?” Maria asked.

  Beckett shook his head and held the test out to her.

  “Here, take it.”

  Maria hesitated, but eventually grabbed the paper.

  “Good. So that settles it… so that’s fair, right?” Maria raised a manicured eyebrow expectantly. “I’m sure that if I poll all of the other residents, that they’d agree, no?”

  Maria opened her mouth to say something, but no words came out.

  “Yeah, I think in this morning’s class I’m going to ask them just how they feel about it—about you going from ten percent to a hundred just by whining. That’s fair. I mean, you come in here, in my office—actually, you went to Dr. Hollenbeck first, didn’t you?”

  Maria just gaped.

  “Of course you did,” Beckett continued. “Because that’s fair, too. It’s fair for you to go directly to the head of the department, rather than coming to speak to me first. So, we’ll just see what your fellow residents have to say.”

  “You wouldn’t,” Maria gasped.

  Beckett held his hands up defensively.

  “Why not? Lemme guess… that’s not fair?”

  Chapter 40

  When they were finally alone in his office, Suzan glared at Beckett.

  “Seriously, Beckett, what in God’s name is your problem?”

  Beckett did his best to avoid her eyes. In his mind, he erected a wall, separating the old Suzan from this new version.

  “What? No witty come back? No snarky remarks? What the hell is going on with you, Beckett?”

  Beckett could hold his tongue no longer.

  “What’s wrong with me? Care to tell me where you were last night, Suzan?”

  Now it was Suzan’s turn to avert her gaze.

  “I was out.”

  “Yeah, no kidding you were out—I saw you. I saw you at the God damn halfway house.”

  Suzan’s eyes shot up then, once again boring into his soul.

  “You followed me?”

  Beckett started to shake his head, to tell her that he was going there anyway, but then changed his mind. That would be a difficult one to explain.

  “Yeah, you did—sure you did. But do you want to know why I was there?”

  Beckett tempered his excitement. Yes, he very much wanted to know why she would was there. Except he doubted that the next words out of her mouth were going to be the truth.

  “Because I was looking for my friend, for Brent. The man that you threw out of your house, the man who had nowhere else to go. That’s what I was doing.”

  Beckett raised an eyebrow.

  “You sure about that, Suzan? You sure that’s why you were really there?”

  Suzan bolted to her feet so quickly that her chair nearly toppled.

  “What are you saying, Beckett? What are you getting at?”