Resuscitation (10 page)

“The autopsy results are going to knock your socks off,” Maggie said.

When Maggie had called Al and suggested they meet for coffee to discuss the results of the autopsy, at first his radar kicked into high gear. He recognized a come-on when he heard one. But Maggie convinced him that getting away from the “coal mines” would be good for both of them. He had to admit that he was running on reserve power and ready to shut down. So relaxing and drinking a stiff espresso wasn’t the worst idea.

After their prior meeting, and Maggie’s subtle yet obvious attempt to flirt, he wasn’t totally comfortable with this rendezvous. He’d be lying if he didn’t admit that he found her attractive. And he’d also be lying if he denied the fact that his love life with Sami wasn’t exactly the fabric from which steamy romance novels were written. Although his intentions were honorable, he felt vulnerable right now.

“Go ahead and knock them off.”

“First of all, the blood tests proved very interesting. The lab found traces of sevoflurane, and higher doses of epinephrine and potassium chloride in her blood, but not enough to kill her.”

“Epinephrine is what they use for anaphylactic shock, no?”

“Among other uses,” Maggie said, “it’s the drug used in an EPI pen.”

“For people who go into shock from a severe allergic reaction, bee sting—”

“Exactly.”

“And the potassium chloride?”

“It’s the third drug used for lethal injection. And the correct dosage, based on subject’s weight, can permanently stop a heart.”

“And what about the sevoflurane?”

“It’s a general anesthesia administered in gas form to keep the patient unconscious.”

“What do you make of it, Maggie?”

“It’s very peculiar. When I examined her heart, it looked like it had been kicked around like a soccer ball. For a twenty-something girl, her heart was pretty much worn out. And she suffered from a moderate case of ventricular hypertrophy, which causes the walls of the heart to thicken. Hypertrophic cardiomyopathy is caused by untreated hypertension, but to be honest, it’s generally an age-related disease. I seriously doubt that this young woman had a blood pressure problem.”

“Anything else unusual in her blood?”

“As a matter of fact, yes. We found high levels of a drug called amiodarone.”

“Ami-what?” Al asked.

“Amiodarone. It’s a drug used in the treatment of two conditions: atrial fibrillation, commonly known as A-Fib. And ventricular fibrillation, referred to as—”

“Let me guess. V-Fib?”

“Very good, Detective. You just might have a future in forensics.”

“No thanks.” Al tried to process all this information but felt like his brain was close to a complete meltdown. “So why the hell would the killer inject so many drugs into her?”

“I haven’t the foggiest, Detective. But what I do know is that each of these drugs has a direct connection to heart rhythm and function. And the effect of these drugs varies dramatically. It seems to me that our guy was using the victim for some kind of perverse experiments or maybe even playing torture games.”

“So, whatever horrific experiments he conducted on the Foster girl ultimately stopped her heart and killed her? That would make cause of death cardiac arrest, right?”

“Here’s where it gets spooky.” Maggie finished her latte. “Genevieve Foster died of a massive stroke. In technical terms, COD was a thrombotic stroke in the middle cerebral artery. This is the granddaddy of all strokes. At best, it leaves the patient in a complete vegetative state, but rarely do they live for more than a few days.”

“And what the hell would cause such a stroke?”

“A huge blood clot.”

This was way too much for Al to absorb. He gulped the double espresso as if he were downing a shot of tequila, and the hot liquid burned a trail to his stomach. “So, I’m guessing whatever wild experiments he performed on this young girl ultimately formed a blood clot in her brain?”

“Here’s my read,” Maggie said. “Epinephrine and potassium chloride dangerously affect heart rhythms and any pooling of blood in the heart can cause blood clots. I can’t tell you why he did what he did, but ultimately, the victim’s blood flow and heart rhythm were dramatically compromised—enough so that blood pooled in her left ventricle, formed clots, and they found their way to her brain.”

“Based on your autopsy and all the issues we’ve discussed, do you believe our killer is medically trained or even a doctor?”

“I can’t imagine anyone without medical training performing these kinds of complicated procedures.”

He felt uncomfortable asking this question but had to. “Did she suffer?”

“If she was properly anesthetized, which seems logical considering that her blood contained trace amounts of sevoflurane, not to mention the epinephrine and potassium chloride, I’d bet she was in the Twilight Zone.”

“And your written report?”

“It’s in your mailbox back at the precinct.”

He felt an obligation to chat with Maggie, but his head pounded unmercifully and he wanted to at least salvage part of the evening with Sami. Before he had a chance to gather his thoughts, Maggie confirmed his suspicions.

“So, Al, when you’re not hunting down the bad guys, what do you do for fun?”

“I try not to have too much fun because it distracts me.”

“Sounds utterly boring.”

“It serves a purpose.”

“Life’s too short not to have a little fun, don’t you think?”

“I think fun is overrated.”

Maggie unzipped and removed her leather jacket and draped it around the back of her chair. She sat upright, as if she was conscious of her posture. Her low-cut blouse gave Al an eyeful. “What does a gal have to do to get a rise out of you?”

Rise?
Al wasn’t sure if her double entendre was intentional or an innocent miscue.
Time to play dumb
. “I’m not sure I understand the question.”

“Let me take out the blocks, Al.” She leaned forward, giving him full view of her generous cleavage. “I’d like to have dinner with you sometime soon and get to know you on a more personal level.”

“You heard that I’m involved, right?”

“Everyone knows about you and the former Detective Rizzo. Hope you two weren’t trying to keep it a secret.”

“Our lives are an open book. In fact, just last week we were running naked through Balboa Park.”

“So, you
do
have a sense of humor.”

Time to set her straight
. “Look, Maggie, I’m really flattered. Honestly, but—”

“Is this the big letdown?”

“If I weren’t in a committed relationship, I would love to have dinner with you and learn more about you on a personal level. But I’m a one-woman guy.”

“I’m disappointed, but I respect that.”

Al looked at his watch. “I really have to run. Thanks for getting the autopsy report done so quickly.”

“Good luck. I hope you find this nutcase before he strikes again.”

“That’s my plan.”

“Sorry I missed dinner,” Al said. He hung his jacket on the coat tree by the front door, feeling guilty about meeting Maggie. But why should he? He had been a perfect gentleman. Then again, if she didn’t give up the chase and pursued him again, he wasn’t absolutely sure he would be so noble. “Are there any leftovers?”

Sami took a long swig of her Corona and pointed toward the kitchen. “Didn’t have time to cook, but there’s some pizza in the fridge.”

Terrific. Just what I need after a twelve-hour day
. He walked over and kissed her on the cheek, remembering how they used to kiss. “So, what’s the deal with your mother?”

“I can’t even guess what Doctor Templeton said to her, but she’s having the surgery on Monday.”

“Did he give you any details of their conversation?”

“Not really. But I did talk to my mother afterwards and all she said was that she didn’t want Angelina to grow up without a grandmother.”

“That’s terrific news!”

“It shocked the shit out of me.” Sami didn’t look as happy as Al thought she should be. “After you gobble down your dinner, can we talk?”

“Let’s talk first,” he said.

Sami patted the sofa. “Sit next to me.”

He plopped down and draped his arm around Sami. “What gives?”

“I’m really uncomfortable with my mother being alone.”

“You made that point quite clear.”

“Well, now that she’s had a heart attack, I’m even more concerned.”

“Totally understandable.”

“Were you serious when you said you’re okay with her living with us for a while after her surgery, or was it one of those impulsive things you wished you hadn’t said?”

“I was dead serious. We’ve got two spare bedrooms. She can stay as long as she likes.”

Sami let out a heavy breath.

“There’s only one problem,” Al said. “With my schedule and your schedule, she’s still going to be living here alone.”

“That’s part B of the equation.” Sami swigged her beer. “Cousin Emily agreed to stay with Mom while we’re doing our thing. But I don’t want her schlepping back and forth from East County every day. Forgetting about traffic delays, it would take her almost an hour one way. So, we talked, and with your blessing, she’s willing to move in for as long as my mother needs her.”

“But I thought she was looking for a nursing job.”

“Well, she just got her nursing degree and I guess it was grueling. So, she wants to take a few months off just to veg-out before she searches for a job.”

“And she thinks tending to your mother is vegging-out?”

“Don’t be a smartass.”

“Sorry. It’s in my nature.” Al stroked Sami’s back. “But seriously, does she have any idea what she’s getting herself into?”

“I told her it wouldn’t be a day at the beach, but Emily loves my mother, and really wants to do this. Besides, Angelina is crazy about Emily, so it would be good for her, too.”

“If you’re okay with it, Sami, I’m okay with it.” Deep in his gut, he feared what little sex they had right now would almost completely end when Josephine and Emily moved in. The moment his thoughts faded, he felt horribly guilty and selfish. Was he really this self-centered?

Julian could barely contain his excitement as he stood on the front porch and waved goodbye to his wife and two daughters. Watching them drive away, he felt a surge of exhilaration. He could not continue his research with his wife and kids in town. How would he explain his long hours away from home? He could only get so much mileage out of medical emergencies. Besides, he could not afford any distractions while he conducted his research. To be successful, his experiments required his undivided attention.

His wife reversed the Range Rover out of the driveway, waved back at him, and headed north for Los Angeles. She wouldn’t return until late Sunday. This gave Julian plenty of time to search for his next subject. He didn’t feel comfortable with his wife driving at night, but a two-million-dollar real estate deal had derailed her plan to leave early in the morning. Julian made plenty of money, enough so Nicole didn’t have to work. But she loved selling real estate. And loved the five-figure commissions even more.

He dashed up the stairs, two steps at a time, unbuttoning his shirt as he made his way toward the master bath. He felt like Superman running down the street, tearing off his civilian clothes. A quick shower and shave, and he’d be out the door. Before stepping into the shower, he stood in front of the full-length mirror and appraised his reflection. There was a time when his body was nearly perfect, as if made of clay and molded by a gifted sculptor. Before starting the A-Fib research project, he followed a strict diet and visited the gym five times a week. But he found little time to continue with a workout regimen. Although he felt as handsome as ever, his body was no longer lean and muscular. In fact, looking at his flabby midsection, he felt disgusted with himself. But his priorities offered no apologies for his less-than-perfect physique.

Tonight, he would face a new challenge. His next subject needed to be a young male, someone who would be attracted to him. This would be the easiest way to find his next subject. Using his charm would be less risky than trying to abduct some unwilling man. But how would he go about meeting a gay man? Being straight, he had no idea how to give off the right vibe or say the right thing. He hadn’t a clue how to
act
gay. Surely, there was a difference in their behaviors and body language. Julian wasn’t yet sure how he would meet his next subject. The anticipation of venturing into uncharted waters overwhelmed him with excitement and trepidation.

He stepped into the shower, turned on the water, closed his eyes, and gently stroked himself. “What to do,” he whispered. He slowly turned in circles, gradually increasing the rhythm, trying to clear his mind of all arbitrary thoughts. Then at the exact moment he reached paradise, an event from the past flashed before him, and a vivid image unfolded in his mind.

Julian hadn’t seen his cousins Rebecca and Marianne in months. And that’s the way he had wanted it. The more he thought about what they’d done to him, the deeper his anger. They had made it clear that if he stopped playing the game of “Ticklish” with them, he’d regret it. But he’d ignored their warning and done everything possible to avoid them—even to the point of finding excuses not to attend family get-togethers. As a naïve teenager, still trying to figure out the ways of the world, he felt haunted by two burning questions: First, how could his cousins—his own flesh and blood—commit such an unspeakable act? And second, were all women this evil?