Currying Death, page 26
Val shook her head. “No. He’s just here to talk to someone.”
Normally, Zachary just went to Dr. Boyle. Was there something he couldn’t talk to her about for some reason? Maybe it was something to do with Kenzie, and Zachary didn’t want to bring it up with Dr. Boyle since she was their couple’s therapist as well, and he was afraid she would bring it up with Kenzie or it would affect how she treated them.
“A patient,” Val clarified. “He’s here to talk to another patient.”
“Oh.” For a minute, Kenzie was silent, stunned by the revelation. She had been worrying so much about Zachary’s condition, the possibility that he was there to see someone else had never occurred to her. She thought about Rhys, who they had been there to see before. He had seemed like he was in a pretty good place recently. Had something happened to him? Kenzie laughed. “I honestly had no idea! Who is he here to see? I feel so stupid. His phone location put him in the hospital, at this end of the building, and I just assumed that he couldn’t talk to me because he had been admitted.”
Val shook her head. “No, no. Just visiting.”
They continued their walk down the corridor. Kenzie nearly tripped, her knees suddenly weak with relief. She shook her head at the confusion caused by her assumption.
Val led her into the common room where visits usually took place, and Kenzie saw Zachary seated across the room, facing her. She couldn’t tell who he was sitting with, but it was not Rhys, a skinny black teen. The man sitting across from him was white, chunkier, in his thirties or forties if Kenzie could accurately gauge that from the back of his head. The full head of hair and style of haircut suggested a man who was mature, but not old.
Zachary rose to his feet, looking surprised to see Kenzie there. Kenzie’s face heated in embarrassment. It had been perfectly logical to assume that Zachary was there for his own mental health, but now she was going to have to explain herself.
“Kenzie. Hi. I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”
“I was in the area,” Kenzie told him, keeping it casual. She would tell him the details later, when it was just the two of them. “Val said you were here visiting and I just came over to say hi.”
She turned to look at the patient who had previously had his back to her. The face was familiar, but it took her a minute to sort out who he was.
Jason. Lydia Kymchuk’s husband. The man who had held her hostage and nearly blown up his city block with the conflagration he’d planned. He seemed smaller and weaker now. Not a threat to anyone, sitting there in the visitor’s room with no weapon or hostage.
“Uh… Jason. Hi, I’m Kenzie. Zachary’s… partner.”
He held out his hand, looking down at his feet. “You know who I am?”
“I was… I was around that day. How are you doing?” Kenzie forced herself to breathe some enthusiasm and sincere concern into her question. This was a man who’d had an unfortunate mental breakdown. He was not a danger to her. He was embarrassed and concerned about how she would see him, or that she might even call him out in front of his fellow patients.
He was somebody she had seen on his worst day, and he was there to get help. That was why Zachary was there. He knew something about what it was like to be in a bad relationship and to do something impulsively that he would live to regret. Zachary had never hurt anyone or threatened to, but he knew what it was like to lose control and to lose the person he loved.
Jason looked uncertain. He gripped her hand and then let go. “I’m… I’m okay, I guess. Just need to… figure out my life from here. I screwed things up pretty badly.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re here to get back on track. I hope you can get things straightened out.”
“Thanks. I’m trying, and I’m clean. I guess… I’m never going to be with Lydia again, but… I hope I haven’t ruined her life.” He choked up and cleared his throat. “We’ll get divorced and go our separate ways and, hopefully, she can have a good life.”
He seemed sincere. Kenzie hoped that he would be able to stay clean from whatever substances he had been on and be able to control himself better in the future. Next time, the right people might not be there to talk him down. Hopefully, he would get a lot of intensive therapy and long-term medication and supports.
Kenzie looked at Zachary. “I’ll see you at home?”
He nodded. “I’ll be there.”
53
Dr. Kirsch?”
Kenzie looked up from the postmortem she was working on to see Dr. Cook in the observation anteroom. He didn’t normally interrupt her in the middle of an autopsy, so she was surprised by his appearance.
She turned off her recording. “Yes, doctor?”
“There is a woman here to see you. I realize she does not have an appointment, but it seemed urgent.”
“You think it’s important enough to interrupt the procedure?”
Dr. Cook gave a nod and didn’t explain further. Kenzie sighed. If he thought it was important enough to interrupt the postmortem, then she would. She could probably use a break anyway. She pulled off her gloves and headed to the door to take off the rest of her protective gear and make herself presentable. In a few minutes, she was greeting an older woman in the boardroom. She stood when Kenzie entered, emphasizing her height. She was a tall, severe-looking woman. Very tanned. Not someone Kenzie could recall meeting before or seeing a picture of.
“Hello, I’m Dr. Kenzie Kirsch.”
She offered her hand, and the woman shook. Then she stepped back slightly.
“My name is Lynnette Robertson.”
“What can I do for you?” The name rang a bell, but it took a few seconds while Mrs. Robertson composed herself before Kenzie figured out where she knew it from. She had called and left this woman several messages.
“You’re… the mother. Scott Robertson’s mother. And Kirk’s.”
“Yes.”
“Have a seat.” Kenzie motioned for her to sit down at the table, and pulled a chair out for herself. “I’m very sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you.”
“I hope… you have found everything to be in order. Kirk claimed the remains…”
“It has been a difficult time,” Mrs. Robertson said, not really answering the question. “I’m afraid you must think me a terrible mother.”
Kenzie blinked. “No. I don’t think that at all. You were on the other side of the world; you couldn’t exactly drop everything and rush back here.”
Of course, she could have, and many women would have. As far as Kenzie knew, Mrs. Robertson wasn’t in the armed services or in some other position where she was not allowed to leave of her own free choice. But there were all kinds of people in the world and Kenzie hadn’t been shocked that she hadn’t shown up at the medical examiner’s office a day or two after being informed of her son’s death.
“I left both of my sons here to sort things out themselves and fled to another country so as not to have to deal with their problems. Maybe I should have stepped in and told them what to do, told them what their father would have wanted and how to interpret the will. But you know, they would have just resented that.”
“Sometimes it is best not to choose sides.”
Mrs. Robertson nodded. “I couldn’t choose one without alienating the other. So maybe I alienated both instead.”
“There wasn’t a winning answer.”
“No.”
They both sat in silence. Kenzie wasn’t sure what to say to her. What had she come home for? What had she traveled all this way to find out or do?
“I wanted to thank you for what you did,” Mrs. Robertson told her. “For finding out what happened to my Scotty and who was responsible.”
“I was just doing my job. And the police were responsible for the criminal investigation and finding out who was responsible. I am sorry that he was killed… for the terrible mistake that was made.”
“It doesn’t really matter whether he was the target or not… I’m glad that the person responsible will be punished. But that doesn’t change anything.”
“No. I don’t suppose it makes it any easier.”
“I am glad… that Kirk had nothing to do with it. It has hit him hard, realizing that because of how they fought over the estate, they separated on bad terms and never had a chance to make up. If he had accepted his father’s wishes… they could have been friends until the end. And that is a hard thing to accept.”
Kenzie could see how it would be. “You and Kirk still have each other. I hope you can have a good relationship.”
Mrs. Robertson considered this seriously. “I don’t blame him for Scott’s death. So I think we can. We are the only two left now. And the money is his, aside from my portion.”
Kenzie nodded. “Does Kirk have a girlfriend? Any future plans?”
“Grandchildren, you mean?” Mrs. Robertson gave a little laugh. “I hope so, someday. And maybe if he does, I won’t be on the other side of the world when they are born.” Mrs. Robertson sighed. “Life is too short, Ms. Kirsch. I hope you know that.”
If there was anyone who knew how fleeting mortality was, and how permanently death ended all disputes eventually, it was the medical examiner.
Kenzie put her hand over the older woman’s. “I do know. I hope that you will be able to find some peace, after you have worked through your grief. And future happiness.”
Mrs. Robertson gave a small smile and stood up. “Thank you for taking the time, Dr. Kirsch. I appreciate it greatly.”
“You’re welcome… I hope it can give you some closure.”
They shook hands, holding them clasped for a moment, before Mrs. Robertson released her grip.
“We are… Rachel has planned a little memorial. I don’t know if you would be interested in attending. We’re having…” She gave a little laugh, her cheeks growing pink, “It’s sort of an open mike at an Indian restaurant. Curry. You might think that’s morbid, but…”
“But it’s something Scott had come to love.”
Mrs. Robertson nodded. “Come if you like.” She gave Kenzie the details and patted her on the arm. “Again, thank you.”
Kenzie watched her go with a mixture of melancholy and wistfulness. Her role as assistant medical examiner was many-faceted. She hoped that it could bring some healing to bereaved family members like Kirk and Lynnette Robertson.
She walked through the corridor back to autopsy, to take up the tools of her trade to begin another journey.
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PREVIEW HEALED TO DEATH
CHAPTER 1
Kenzie’s phone started ringing loudly on the side table, jarring her awake. She grabbed it and tried to silence the noise, her fingers clumsy with sleep. She wanted the noise to end as quickly as possible, but finding the button to mute it took precious seconds. She considered getting out of bed and stepping out into the hallway to take the call so that her voice would not disturb Zachary’s sleep, but by the time she had formed the thought, she knew there was no use. Zachary woke more quickly than she did, and if he was awakened at night, it was pretty much guaranteed that he would stay that way. Even if Kenzie could go back to sleep after the sound of that klaxon, there was no way Zachary would.
So she saved herself from the risk of stubbing her toes or other accidents that might occur stumbling around in the dark or blinding herself by turning on a light and stayed in bed. She blinked a couple of times to clear her vision, then swiped the screen to accept the call.
“Dr. Kirsch,” she acknowledged. “Sorry, took me a minute there.”
“Good morning, Dr. Kirsch,” the operator at the other end of the line greeted pleasantly. “I’m afraid I have a call-out for you.”
“Sure,” Kenzie agreed. “Where are the remains? Any details about the situation?”
The operator gave her an address and directed her to a back lane, which was not particularly surprising. Kenzie thumbed the address into a note on her phone and read it back. The operator confirmed.
“Police have secured the scene.”
“Great, thanks.”
“Have a great day, doctor,” the operator told her pleasantly and disconnected.
Kenzie looked at the window. Though the blinds were pulled, she could still see through the crack between them. It was dark—streetlights shining. Though the dispatcher had wished her a good morning and told her to have a good day, it was still in the middle of the night. Kenzie looked at the time on her phone screen.
Two o’clock in the morning.
At least she had a few hours of sleep under her belt. She wouldn’t be getting any more. While in theory, she could go back to sleep, and the police would hold the scene until it was actually morning, she would never do that. With her heart hammering after being startled out of sound sleep, she wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep if she wanted to, and she wouldn’t make the law enforcement officers who had secured the scene stand around for hours waiting for her. That would just be rude and would guarantee she would not get the friendly cooperation she was used to from the police force in the future.
She took a few deep breaths to settle her heart and try to get the oxygen to her brain to help her wake up and focus on the business at hand.
“Got a call out?” Zachary asked in a quiet, calm voice intended not to startle her.
Kenzie stretched and turned partway around to look at him. She couldn’t see much in the darkness of the room, just his shape beside her. Her brain filled in what her eyes could not see—his very short, dark hair, a scruff of several days’ growth of whiskers, the mixture of concern and reassurance on his face.
“Yup,” she agreed, “body in a back alley. Those are always nice.”
He chuckled. “Who knows, it could just be a heart attack. A businessman who went out for a breath of fresh air.”
“It’s never just a heart attack,” Kenzie countered. If it was earlier or later, it could be. A businessman having a nightcap before bed, or an early morning heart attack on his commute to work. But two in the morning was rarely anything so benign.
Of course, he might have died hours or even days before. There was nothing that said he had died within the last hour or two.
In her experience, it would not be pretty.
Zachary stirred beside her. He untangled himself from the blankets and got out of bed, stopping momentarily to feel around for some clothing. “Do you want me to make coffee?” he asked. He was already moving, heading toward the door. There was no point in telling him no. He’d already made up his mind. He’d be making coffee for himself. She might as well take advantage of it.
“Sure,” she agreed, “that would be nice. But just regular strength. None of that high-test stuff.”
“You sure you don’t need an extra boost?”
“If I need more caffeine, I’ll drink another cup.”
“Aye-aye,” he agreed.
Kenzie rubbed her eyes and got moving. She didn’t want to keep the police waiting longer than necessary.
By the time she had splashed water on her face, combed her curly hair, and finished making herself presentable, the smell of coffee was wafting through the house. On her arrival in the kitchen, Zachary handed her a large travel mug filled with the fresh brew. He leaned in for a kiss, bristly, still smelling of sweat and musk.
“Have a good day,” he told her. “Shoot me a text or call me over lunch and let me know how it is going.”
“Will do,” Kenzie agreed. She slipped on her jacket and shoes, grabbed her purse, and entered the garage where her “baby”—a sporty red convertible—awaited her. Her small scene-of-crime kit was stowed in the trunk as usual. If she found she needed additional equipment when she got to the scene, she would have Carlos bring it to her when he drove the medical examiner’s van to the scene for transportation.
CHAPTER 2
Despite the fact that it was not yet a decent hour of the morning, it was not lonely and creepy to go into the back alley where the remains had been found. A police perimeter had been set up, and large lights banished all thoughts of night. Kenzie was happy to see that the police mostly stayed outside the perimeter until she and the forensic unit gathered the evidence they needed and turned the scene over. They did not need a scene that had been trampled all over. She pulled on the prescribed protective gear and approached the scene.
“Morning, everyone,” Kenzie greeted. “What’ve we got?”
A detective had arrived ahead of her and was patiently waiting with his own cup of coffee, an extra large from the nearest coffee shop. He took a sip of the coffee, considering her. He had wavy, sandy-colored hair and was young for a detective. He looked as if he, like Kenzie, had been woken up by the call. His name bar gave his name as Samuels.
Kenzie knew she wasn’t what most people pictured when the title “assistant medical examiner” was mentioned. Most people expected a gray-haired man, not Kenzie, with her wild dark curls and bright red lipstick. Her red sports car didn’t advertise that she was from the medical examiner’s office either, although if Samuels got close enough, he would be able to see her medical examiner parking pass hanging from the mirror. Kenzie smiled and nodded, indicating the identification on the lanyard around her neck in case he doubted who she was. He cleared his throat and nodded.
