Invasion (14 page)

“You think that was the motivation in this instance?” Jesse asked.

“I haven’t the slightest idea,” Dr. Lapree admitted.

“We’re concerned that the disappearance of the body adds weight to the idea that the man’s death was a homicide,” Jesse said.

“Like the perpetrator didn’t want to leave a trail,” Vince added.

“I understand,” Dr. Lapree said. “But the problem with that line of thinking is that I’d already done the autopsy.”

“Yeah, but you were coming back for more tissue,” Jesse said.

“True,” Dr. Lapree said. “I’d failed to take a sample of bone marrow. But that was just to add more weight to my acute radiation theory.”

“If the reason the body was taken was to keep you
from getting this final sample, then it sounds as if it were an inside job,” Jesse said.

“We are aware of that,” Dr. Lapree said. “We’re in the process of reviewing everyone who had access to the body.”

Jesse sighed. “What a case,” he moaned. “The idea of retiring is sounding better and better.”

“You’ll let us know if you learn anything,” Vince said.

“Absolutely,” Dr. Lapree said.

JONATHAN CLOSED AND LOCKED HIS GYM LOCKER. FOR
that semester he’d pulled gym as the last period of the day, and he hated it. He much preferred to have gym sometime in the middle of the day as an oasis between academic subjects.

Leaving the gym wing by the side door he started out across the quad. In the distance he could see a group of kids grouped around the flagpole. As he approached he could hear them cheering. When he got to the base of the flagpole he saw what was going on. A ninth grader, who Jonathan vaguely knew, was in the process of shinnying to the top. His name was Jason Holbrook. Jonathan knew him because he’d played on the freshman basketball team.

“What’s happening?” Jonathan asked one of his classmates who was standing off to the side. His name was Jeff.

“Ricky Javetz and crowd have found some new ninth-grader to harass,” Jeff said. “The kid’s got to touch the eagle on top or he’s not going to be allowed in the gang.”

Jonathan shielded his eyes from the bright afternoon
sun. “That pole’s damn high,” he said. “Must be fifty, sixty feet or more.”

“And it’s pretty skinny at the top,” Jeff said. “I’m glad I’m not up there.”

Jonathan looked around. He was surprised that no teachers had materialized to put a stop to this ridiculous situation. Just then he saw Cassy Winthrope emerge from the north wing. Jonathan elbowed Jeff. “Here comes that sexy student teacher.”

Jeff turned to look. Cassy was dressed as usual in a loose-fitting simple cotton dress. As the sun angled through it, the boys could see a silhouette of Cassy’s body, including a distinct outline of her high-cut panties.

“Wow,” Jeff said. “What a piece of ass.”

Mesmerized, the boys watched Cassy melt into the crowd then reappear at the base of the flagpole. She tossed some books she was carrying onto the ground, cupped her hands, and shouted up to Jason to come down.

The crowd hissed at Cassy’s interference.

Almost three-quarters of the way to the eagle, Jason hesitated. The pole was beginning to wobble. It seemed higher than he’d expected.

Cassy looked around. The throng of students had closed in. Most of them were seniors and significantly larger than herself. It went through her mind that teachers were assaulted on a daily basis in schools across the United States.

Cassy looked back up the flagpole. From its base the wobbling was apparent.

“Did you hear me,” Cassy called again, ignoring the
crowd. She had her hands on her hips. “Get down here this instant!”

Cassy felt a hand grab her arm. She jumped. Surprisingly she found herself staring into Mr. Ed Partridge’s leering, smiling face. “Miss Winthrope, you’re looking delightful today.”

Cassy peeled Ed’s fingers from her arm. “We’ve got a student three-quarters of the way up the flagpole,” she said.

“I’ve noticed,” Ed said. He chuckled as he tilted his head back and gazed up at the now scared student. “I bet he can make it.”

“I hardly think this kind of activity should be condoned,” Cassy said in spite of herself.

“Ah, why not?” Ed said. Then cupping his hands he called up to Jason. “Come on, boy, don’t fink out now. You’re almost there.”

Jason looked up. He had another twenty feet or so to go. Hearing the crowd urging him on, he recommenced climbing. The problem was that his hands were perspiring and moist. With each shinny, he slid back half of the gained distance.

“Mr. Partridge,” Cassy began. “This isn’t…”

“Calm down, Miss Winthrope,” Ed said. “We have to let our students express themselves. Besides, it’s entertaining to see if a prepubescent boy like Jason up there is capable of accomplishing this kind of feat.”

Cassy looked up. The wobbling had increased. She shuddered to think of what would happen if the boy fell.

But Jason didn’t fall. Benefiting from the crowd’s support, he managed to get to the top, touch the eagle, and
begin the descent. When he reached the ground, Mr. Partridge was the first to congratulate him.

“Well done, lad,” Ed said, giving Jason a pat on the back. “I didn’t think you had it in you.” Mr. Partridge then looked out over the crowd. “Okay, everybody, time to break it up.”

Cassy didn’t leave immediately. She watched as Mr. Partridge herded many of the students toward the central wing while maintaining an animated conversation. Cassy was confused. Encouraging such an act seemed irresponsible and certainly out of character for Mr. Partridge.

“I believe these are your books,” a voice said.

Cassy turned to see Jonathan Sellers extending her texts to her. She took them and thanked him.

“No problem,” he said. He looked off at the fading image of Mr. Partridge. “He’s become a different man all of a sudden,” Jonathan said, mirroring Cassy’s thoughts.

“Just like my parents,” another voice said.

Jonathan turned to see Candee. He’d been unaware that she’d been in the crowd from the beginning. Stumbling over his words, he introduced her to Cassy, and as he did so, he noticed her eyes had a red-rimmed, sleepless appearance.

“Are you okay?” Jonathan asked.

Candee nodded. “I’m all right, but I didn’t sleep much last night.” She stole a self-conscious glance at Cassy, concerned about talking in front of a stranger. At the same time she had a strong urge to unburden herself. As an only child she’d not spoken with anyone, and she was troubled.

“How come you couldn’t sleep?” Jonathan asked.

“Because my parents have been acting very strange,” Candee said. “It’s like I don’t know them. They’ve changed.”

“What do you mean ‘changed’?” Cassy asked, thinking immediately of Beau.

“They’re different,” Candee said. “I don’t know how to explain it. They’re different. Like old Mr. Partridge.”

“How long have you noticed this?” Cassy asked. She was amazed; what was happening to people?

“It’s been just the last day or so,” Candee said.

4:15
P.M.

“DO YOU WANT PHENYTOIN?” DR. DRAPER YELLED AT DR.
Sheila Miller. Dr. Draper was one of the senior residents in the emergency medicine program at the University Medical Center.

“No!” Sheila snapped. “I don’t want to take any chances on causing an arrhythmia. Give me ten milligrams of Valium IV now that we have the airway secured.”

The city ambulance had called earlier to report that they were bringing in a forty-two-year-old diabetic who was in the throes of a major seizure. Considering what had happened with the seizing, diabetic woman the day before, the whole ER team, including Dr. Sheila Miller, had turned out for this new emergency.

Upon arrival the man had been taken directly into one of the bays where his airway had been given top priority.
Then stat blood work had been drawn. Concurrently monitors were attached followed by a bolus of IV glucose.

Since the seizing had continued, more medication was necessary. That was when Sheila decided on the Valium.

“Valium given,” Ron Severide said. Ron was one of the evening RNs.

Sheila was watching the monitor. Remembering what had happened with the woman the day before, she did not want this patient to arrest.

“What’s the patient’s name?” Sheila asked. By that time the patient had been in the ER for ten minutes.

“Louis Devereau,” Ron said.

“Any other medical history besides the diabetes?” Sheila asked. “Any cardiac history?”

“None that we’re aware of,” Dr. Draper said.

“Good,” Sheila said. She began to calm down. So did the patient. After a few more jerks, the seizing stopped.

“Looking good,” Ron said.

No sooner had this positive assessment escaped from Ron’s lips than the patient starting convulsing again.

“That’s amazing,” Dr. Draper said. “He’s seizing in the face of both the Valium and the glucose. What’s going on here?”

Sheila didn’t respond. She was too busy watching the cardiac monitor. There’d been a couple of ectopic beats. She was about to order some lidocaine when the patient arrested.

“Don’t do this,” Sheila cried as she joined the others in a resuscitation effort.

In a fashion eerily similar to the experience with the woman the day before, Louis Devereau went from fibrillation
to flatline no matter what the ER team did. To their great chagrin they had to admit defeat once again, and the patient was pronounced dead.

Feeling anger at the inadequacy of their effort, Sheila snapped her gloves off her hands and threw them forcibly into the appropriate container. Dr. Draper did the same. Together they walked back toward the main desk.

“Get on the phone with the medical examiner,” Sheila said. “Make sure you convey to him the necessity of trying to figure out what caused this death. This can’t go on. These were both relatively young patients.”

“They both were insulin-dependent,” Dr. Draper said. “And both had had long-term diabetes.”

They reached the expansive ER desk. There was a lot of activity.

“So when has middle-aged diabetes become a fatal illness?” Sheila asked.

“Good point,” Dr. Draper said.

Sheila glanced into the waiting room, and her eyebrows lifted. There were so many patients that there was standing room only. Ten minutes previously there’d been the normal number for that time of day. She turned to ask one of the clerks sitting behind the desk if there was some explanation for the sudden crowd and found herself looking at Pitt Henderson.

“Don’t you ever go home?” she asked. “Cheryl Watkins told me you were back here hours after a twenty-four-hour shift.”

“I’m here to learn,” Pitt said. It was a planned retort. He’d seen her approach the desk.

“Well, good grief, don’t burn out,” Sheila said. “You haven’t even started medical school yet.”

“I just heard that the diabetic who’d just come in passed away,” Pitt said. “That must be very hard for you to deal with.”

Sheila looked down at this college senior. He was surprising her. Only the morning before he’d irritated her by sloshing her coffee all over her arm in a room where he had no business being. Now he was being uncharacteristically sensitive for a college-aged male. He was also attractive, with his coal-black hair and dark, liquid eyes. In a fleeting instant, she wondered how she would respond if he were twenty years older.

“I have something here that you will want to see,” Pitt said. He handed her a printout from the lab.

Sheila took the sheet and glanced at it. “What is this?” she asked.

“It’s the blood work on that diabetic who died yesterday,” Pitt said. “I thought you might be particularly interested because all the values are entirely normal. Even the blood sugar.”

Sheila scanned the list. Pitt was right.

“It will be interesting to see what today’s patient’s values are,” Pitt said. “From the reading I’ve done, I can’t think of any reason the first patient should have had a seizure.”

Sheila was now impressed. None of the other college students who’d come through on the clerking program had shown such a degree of interest. “I’ll count on you to get me the blood work on today’s patient,” she said.