He removed his scrubs and rolled them into a ball, then shoved them into his tote bag. He threw the bag over his shoulder and exited. When he walked past the room, he smiled when he heard those three magic words, time of death. He grinned at having done his job, and slowly walked down the hall, observing his surroundings to see if both parents were aware their daughter was dead. His heart beat faster when he heard the mother scream for her daughter. He stopped a short distance away and watched as she struggled with reality. Now, they knew what it was like to suffer.
Cory stood under the shower and let the water pelt against his body as he tried to erase the empty feeling roiling in his stomach while he replayed yesterday’s unpleasant conversation between him and Max. He wasn’t sure if she was ever going to speak to him again. Cory braced his arms against the wall, hoping to forget that he’d fallen harder for her than he’d expected. He wondered if she’d lost any sleep after his hurtful comment. He wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t forgive him. He was disgusted with himself. What was wrong with him?
That abrupt response had replayed over in his mind a million times since it had happened, and now, he was wishing he’d just admitted what he’d done and not cut her off before she’d had a chance to finish what she was saying. But it was too late for regrets now. He sighed, turned the water off, and exited the shower. After he toweled off and got dressed, he walked to the kitchen to fill a mug with the strong black coffee he’d made earlier. The toaster popped up a badly burnt English muffin. He attempted to pull it out and recoiled from the heat burning his fingers. Rushing to the sink, he shoved his hand under cold water. He was a mess. Dammit! What had this woman done to him? Feeling helpless, he guzzled down the bitter coffee, grabbed his briefcase, and headed out the door, leaving the burnt muffin on the floor.
Walking through the entrance to Mount Sinai, Cory’s stomach growled and told him he’d function better if it were full, which was probably the first smart thought he’d had this morning. After breakfast, he’d start snooping to see what he could find out about Jeffrey Barrett in his work environment. He hoped Max had done as thorough an investigation on Barrett as she had on Jack, mainly because when a wife was murdered, nine times out of ten, statistics proved it was the husband. He wasn’t falling for that loyal-husband bullshit Barrett was putting on for the police and all his friends. There had to be some of Barrett’s so-called friends or colleagues who didn’t like him. Everyone had enemies, and Jeffrey Barrett would be no exception.
The thought of Jack living in a six-by-nine cell at Rikers Island made Cory shudder. He was worried about his friend, especially with the lies he’d been telling. Did he not realize what he was facing if convicted? Was he so depressed that he just didn’t care anymore?
Having represented clients who’d inhabited what was commonly referred to as the box, a cramped enclosure in a long line of cells on the cell block, he knew quite well the kind of living quarters Jack had. Cement walls on three sides, a narrow window for light, a cement slab with a thin mattress hanging off the wall as his bed, a sink, a toilet, and bars on the front giving full exposure to anyone walking past, even the inmates across the narrow hall. And that disgusting smell, so bad, it remained with you for weeks after. He shook his head. If Jack was convicted, that would be his home forevermore. And as if that weren’t enough, it would not be long before he’d be declared someone’s bitch. It was a status thing for prisoners to stake a claim on the newbie. Sure, Jack would fight until the end if anyone came near him, but with so many gangs in prison, he wouldn’t stand a chance. Cory felt a rush of anxiety wash over him. He was not going to let that happen to his friend.
Cory was disappointed he hadn’t found one of Barrett’s friends who didn’t believe Barrett’s declaration of renewed love for his wife. He’d have to do a lot more digging to prove Barrett was guilty. The problem was that Jeffrey Barrett was a powerful man and highly regarded by the administrators of the hospital, but Cory hoped someone on the transplant team would help him get a better read on the man. Surely there were surgeons who had problems with the top dog, especially if they’d been competing against him.
Cory walked over to one of the elderly volunteers he’d recognized from when his niece was here at Mount Sinai for her surgery. She smiled, remembering him too. He leaned over toward her. “So what’s the special on the cafeteria menu this morning?”
“I wondered if I’d ever see you again.” She patted his arm. “How is your niece?” she asked.
“She’s learning to deal with it.”
She placed her fist on her heart, and Cory nodded a thank-you. “You haven’t forgotten that Friday is sticky bun day, have you?”
“Are they any good?” Cory asked, engaging her in conversation.
“They’re okay, but not as good as the ones I used to make back in the day.”
“I’ll check them out,” he said with a wink that made her blush. “You have a good day,” he said over his shoulder. “Thanks for your help.”
Downstairs, the cafeteria had only a handful of people sitting at tables. With tray in hand, he meandered through the aisles and stopped to scoop scrambled eggs and a spoonful of potatoes onto his plate. Scanning to see where the sticky buns were located, he wandered over to the pastry station and stopped in front of them. Using the serving piece intended, he slid the bun out from under the heat lamp and onto a smaller plate. Then, using his spoon, he scooped up caramel and butter sauce to pour over the top. Whiffing in the sweet smell had his stomach grumbling. Yeah, there was no way he was passing these up. Maybe the sweetness would help his sour mood.
Making one last stop, he filled a container with coffee, splashed in some cream, added two packets of sugar, and headed for a table. Sitting down, he stabbed at the eggs, shoveling a forkful into his mouth. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was.
Two women in scrubs sat down at a nearby table. They seemed to be having a lively debate. He could only hear bits and pieces, but he thought he heard something about heart transplants. He strained to listen. The conversation segued into a debate about a recent transplant. That was his lead-in.
Seeing him stare, one of the women cast her eyes in his direction. “I’m sorry. Are we disturbing you?”
“Sorry for staring. No, not at all.” He stood. “I’m actually investigating a case about heart transplants and could really use your help. May I join you?” Cory planted two business cards down in front of them. Sensing their apprehension, he tried to put their minds at ease. “Listen, I swear to you, I’m one of the good guys. I’m a private investigator, and I’m working a case about this very thing. If an injustice has been done, then I’m going to see to it that it goes to trial and the right perpetrator goes to jail.” He looked at them, his face forming into desperation. “Please, help me.” The women looked at one another. “Listen, I know you don’t know me, and I swear”—he held up his hand—“all I need is for you to lead me down the right path and I’ll do the rest.” He lowered his head, his eyes never leaving their faces. “What do you say?”
The two women nodded their approval but continued to look cautiously over their shoulders. The brunette whispered in her friend’s ear and stared at her. When the other woman nodded her acceptance, the dark-haired woman spoke. “Mr. Rossini, we’ll talk to you, but it has to be outside.”
“Anywhere you say is fine. I’m just happy you’re willing to talk to me. Do you have to get back to work?”
“No. We just finished the night shift, and my husband gets the kids off to school, so I’m good. How about you, Catherine?” she asked.
“I’m good too.”
“Okay, give me one minute to get a box for this sweet roll,” he said, “and I’ll meet you outside.”
Cory walked back over to the cashier carrying his bun and asked for a Styrofoam container, then made his way outside, where one of the ladies stood waving her hand so he’d see where they were sitting.
Catherine was the first to speak. “Before we say anything, we need
complete anonymity.”
“Okay, but how will I be able to prove what you’re telling me is true?”
“Oh, don’t worry about that. You’ll be able to prove our story just by seeing the documents.”
“All right. Then I promise not to mention your names. Tell me what you know.”
“Several months ago, Karen and I were working the transplant floor. We had come in early, like we do every night, and we’re pretty certain a heart transplant was given out of sequence to a senator’s daughter. It’s been haunting us ever since.”
“What do you mean exactly?”
“We believe that a heart that was intended for another child was given to the senator’s daughter instead. You know, VIP crap.”
“That’s a pretty serious allegation. What makes you so sure?”
“Because every time we bring it up during breaks with the other nurses, we’re told to shut up, to keep our thoughts to ourselves before we get into trouble.” Catherine humphed.
“Isn’t there an organization that has strict guidelines in place to govern those transplants?” Cory asked. They looked at him with an unwavering stare. “I seem to remember reading an article about the government changing the guidelines to prevent something like this from happening.”
“They did change the guidelines, Mr. Rossini, but some people think they’re exempt from following those rules.”
“Who was the surgeon to perform this surgery?”
“Sorry, but that’s all we’re going to say. Check with the hospital administrator. Her name is Valerie Morrison. The date we’re talking about was July 2.”
“Was it Dr. Barrett?”
Catherine’s expression told him he was on to something big concerning Barrett, but how did this relate to Helen’s death? Maybe not at all, but it would be one more nail in Jeffrey Barrett’s coffin if it did. The two women rose and walked away without looking back. Cory wasn’t sure this would help his search for the truth, but since the event spurring this allegation had taken place in the heart center at the hospital where Barrett worked, he had to believe Barrett was involved somehow. Anything that made Barrett look less saintly was a good thing. And if he couldn’t prove it without a warrant, he’d beg Max to get involved. Surely, she didn’t want to put an innocent man behind bars. If she wasn’t willing to check it out because it might ruin her reputation, then he would know what kind of person she was and he’d go higher up the chain of command. The information he now had was too good to pass up. He decided to do a bit more snooping. Stopping back at the volunteers’ station, he approached a gentleman.
“Can you tell me who the hospital administrator is and where I might find the office?”
“Can I see some identification first?” Cory flipped his leather ID holder open to show him. Presenting his ID was something new to him. Usually just handing out his business card as an attorney was proof enough, but he’d learned to do it automatically. “Do you have an appointment?” he asked.
“No, but I was told she’d be the person to see on a certain matter.”
“Okay, that would be Mrs. Morrison, and she’s on the fifth floor,” the man said, sliding his finger down the chart. “Want me to call her for you?”
“I would appreciate that. Thank you,” Cory said, and handed him his business card. He tapped his fingers on the counter while he waited for the volunteer to get off the phone.
“You’re in luck, Mr. Rossini. She just finished up a meeting and said she can see you now.”
“That’s terrific,” Cory said. “Thank you.”
“Elevators.” He pointed in their direction. “There’ll be a sign directing you.”
“Mrs. Morrison,” Cory said handing her his business card. He was surprised to see that she was almost as tall as his six feet. Her dark hair was pulled back in a tight bun, and her eyeglasses dangled from a chain around her neck like a librarian.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Rossini?”
“Did you know there are rumors around the hospital that a transplant occurred out of sequence?”
“Mr. Rossini,” she said, “I’m afraid you’re in the wrong department. I have nothing to do with the transplant center, but Melanie Chambers does. She’s the organ procurement and transplantation coordinator.” She jerked her head toward her cell phone located on the side of her mahogany desk when it rang. “Excuse me, please. I need to take this.” Cory nodded. After she greeted the caller, she gasped. “I’ll be right there.”
Surprised, Cory watched as she grabbed her coat off the hook and headed for the door. “I have to leave,” she said, her voice filled with panic. “Check with my secretary.” He walked to the door behind her and watched when she stopped at her secretary’s desk and leaned in closer to the girl and said something. When the secretary’s hand clasped against her chest, he knew something was wrong. Seconds later, the administrator rushed into the elevator, hitting the button a number of times before the doors closed.
Concerned, Cory stood by the door watching the secretary compose herself for a few moments. She immediately made a phone call, wrote something down, and walked toward him.
“Mr. Rossini.” The young girl, whose adolescent face looked as though she was barely out of high school, addressed him. “I’m sorry, but Mrs. Chambers can’t see you this morning.” Checking her calendar, he could see it looked pretty full. “Unfortunately, I don’t have anything available until the twenty-eighth at two o’clock.”
“Are you serious?”
“I’m afraid I am. Between staff meetings, patient interviews, and conferences, she’s booked solid. If your meeting is urgent, I can find someone else for you to talk to, but that’s the best I can do.” She looked up at him. “Will that work?”
He nodded. “I’d rather talk to her, so I’ll wait. Wondering about Morrison’s abrupt departure, he asked, “Is Mrs. Morrison all right?”
Her eyes glistened. Throwing her shoulders back, she stood a little straighter before responding. “Yes. She’ll be fine.” She handed him the appointment card and told him to have a nice day.
He knew something drastic had happened and wondered how he was going to find out. Maybe keeping the appointment would lead him in a different direction, but for sure, something fishy was going on, and he wasn’t going to stop until he figured out what it was. Regardless, he’d keep the appointment and hope it somehow related to Helen’s death. Determined to put his free time to good use, he decided to visit Jack first, maybe stop by the library for some more names of Barrett’s friends, then he’d find out if the senator was in her Midtown Manhattan office to get her reaction to what he’d just heard.
On the drive over to see Jack, he couldn’t get Valerie Morrison’s reaction to the phone call out of his head. So he wouldn’t forget what transpired, he took out his phone and spoke into the recorder, detailing what had happened in Morrison’s office. He was going to find out why Jack had lied to the detective about his alibi.
When Jack entered the room, Cory noted he was looking tired and drawn. With everything closing in on him, he couldn’t blame the guy, but it hurt to see him carrying around such pain.
“I sure do appreciate you going out of your way to come see me, Cory.”
“That’s what friends do for each other.”
“Have I told you how much I hate this place?”
“You don’t have to. I can see it on your face every time I come here. But you’re the one who put yourself in this predicament, Jack. What did you expect when you lied to the detective about where you were?”
Jack gave an aggravated wave of his hand. “Look, no matter what I said, Cory, she wasn’t going to believe me. She was anxious to close her case, so she made me the scapegoat.
“How can you blame her when she caught you in a lie? You said you didn’t leave your apartment, yet they have you leaving your building, your car driving past Helen’s house, and then, on top of all that, you had an argument with Helen in a public setting with witnesses who will testify that you th
reatened to kill her? What was that all about?” Cory crossed his arms and rested them against his chest, his face seething with anger.
“I didn’t say that to Helen. What I said, but no one seems to have heard, or doesn’t want to admit, is that I thought Jeffrey was going to kill her.” Jack shut his eyes briefly. “You know how much I loved her, Cory. I could never say something like that to her.”
“Jack, I really want to believe you, but it’s been one lie after another. So where the hell did you go?”
“I drove to the park for a walk until I got a call from the First Alert call center that Mom had fallen.”
“What happened to your mom?” Cory said, concerned. Mrs. Hughes was like a mother to him.
“She tripped on a step and got a cut on her cheek. She’s okay.”
“If you were going to your mom’s, how did you wind up going past Helen’s house?”
“I took a shortcut from the park. There was a lot of traffic, and I didn’t feel like sitting in it. I wanted to hurry to see if Mom was okay.”
“So why didn’t you explain that to Detective Turner?”
“Because that woman already had her mind made up. She wasn’t going to believe anything I had to say, so I just gave up.”
“Jack, what the hell is wrong with you? We’re talking about your life here.”
“I don’t care anymore. It’s as simple as that.”
“You have to care!” Cory rubbed his hands together, suddenly remembering something else. “By the way, there is another matter we need to discuss.” It was obvious by Jack’s expression that he was already tired of Cory’s tirade. “You know, I’ve been completely confused about why you chose Bill Cates as an attorney, and even more surprised that he was court appointed, so I racked my brains trying to figure out how this happened, and it suddenly occurred to me that you might be having financial problems. Is that it?” Cory narrowed his eyes, waiting for Jack to say something, but he didn’t have to. His expression said it all. “For God’s sake, why didn’t you tell me? I would have helped you.”
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