Before I Wake (21 page)

“So it’s natural causes.”

“I’m no doctor, Nathan. I’ve got a coroner telling me nothing so far looks off but he’ll keep checking, a cousin who can account for practically every minute of Karen’s time before she died, no sign of any kind suggesting foul play, and no witness to anyone coming or going from the room other than the cousin. And that lady is still in shock; there’s no way she killed Karen.”

“Where are we at with testing on the items found at the scene?”

“Karen was snacking heavily while watching TV. I’ve got everything from candy wrappers to potato chips to fruit-filled pies from the vending machine. All of it is now at the lab being tested, along with what we pulled from the vending machines. They are about half done with the initial tests; so far nothing looks off.”

Nathan felt like he was having to play God, for justice was balancing on this resource decision. “Is there any sign someone else at either hotel was also getting sick? Reports of upset stomachs, headaches, flu—anything at all being reported by the other guests?”

Sillman picked up his coffee and finished it, looking over at the coffeemaker Nathan kept on his credenza to see about a refill. “I thought of that while I watched the coroner move her body. I’ve asked managers at both hotels and there is no other guest feeling ill they can identify in the days before or since these deaths. I think we’ve got what we got—a lady who died in her sleep.”

Nathan wished someone else was sitting in this chair having to make these decisions. “Okay. Push hard on the case until the coroner gets his final test results in. If you can’t find anything off at the hotel and the coroner is prepared to sign off on this as natural causes, then we close it. I need you backtracking those stolen handguns before some union guy decides to go buy one of them on the street and use it. Are you okay with that?”

“As much as I don’t want to say natural causes, yes, I think we’ve got no choice but to go with the coroner’s verdict. I’m not finding anything at the scene so far to suggest it isn’t that. And I’m tired enough after chasing down even the dust bunnies under the bed to be pretty confident nothing in that hotel room was missed. There was no pill bottle, nor stray pill she dropped when she took a handful of something that killed her.”

Sillman regretfully threw away his empty coffee cup. “Did you discover anything else about Peggy’s itinerary? Was there any overlap between the two ladies at all? Is there anything else we can work with?”

“There’s nothing so far. Peggy went to see Andy Kirk Saturday night, asking questions that suggest she thought someone in this area had a hand in those designer drugs that killed Prescott’s grandson. She probably went to see Nella after that, and given how Nella can talk, that probably explains the time Peggy arrived back at the hotel. Nothing so far suggests Peggy ran into foul play or the like the night she died; she was just out asking questions. When is Noland Reed starting with the county narcotics task force?”

Sillman had to look at the calendar to figure out what day it was today. “Two weeks, I think. He’s already got his desk cleared out and his shoes shined; eager doesn’t describe his interest.”

Nathan smiled. “I remember days we were both so young a new assignment looked like that to us as well. I’m so glad we got that slot. At best we can tell so far, this reporter heard a rumor about the designer drugs that killed Prescott’s grandson and came to ask questions. Odds are good the task force has heard the same rumors. Tell Noland to look at anything they have, even the most unlikely rumors, about who’s been manufacturing some of the more exotic stuff hitting the market around here.”

“Do her notes suggest what it was she heard?”

“Her own brand of shorthand isn’t readable, making the one notebook we have worthless. The other notebook she was seen carrying on Saturday night hasn’t turned up yet. Rae’s looking for it.”

Nathan shook his head. “So far these two ladies have absolutely nothing in common but the fact they both died in one of our hotels, apparently of natural causes. Even if Peggy had a rumor to chase about designer drugs, all we’ve proven so far is how little she learned while she was in town. She didn’t even know Joe Prescott had died until late Saturday night. I just don’t see how she got herself in so much trouble after learning that news that she got herself killed that night. If the coroner says natural causes for both ladies, I’ve got to admit I can’t see evidence that says he’s wrong.”

Sillman nodded. “I don’t like it, but that’s the way this is breaking.”

Nathan waved in his assistant and accepted the stack of phone-call slips. “I’ll talk with the coroner again to see if there’s any way we’ve got a new designer drug going around that his tests can’t pick up, but the last conversation I had with him on the topic said it was ‘theoretically possible’ but highly unlikely.

“I’ll also work the Peggy angle through the end of the day to see if I can nail down anything more about the story she was writing. But if you don’t find anything from the scene of Karen’s death which suggests foul play and the coroner is ready to sign off as natural causes, we’ll move on. We’ve got no choice.”

“Will do.”

Nathan flipped through the call slips and slid the lot into his pocket. “Track me down if you need me. I’ll be somewhere in town.”

“I’ll keep you posted.”

* * *

Nathan hated the county coroner’s office. Nice furnishings and comfortable guest chairs notwithstanding, it was an unpleasant place to visit. He knew what was inside those manila folders piled up on the desk and shoved into the file cabinets. Franklin didn’t seem bothered by it, but Nathan was. “Could the blood tests be missing something?”

“It’s not likely.”

“But it is possible.”

“Anything is possible, Nathan, you know that. But possible and probable are vastly different things.” Franklin tugged off his glasses. His white coat worn in the lab was still crisply pressed and clean; it didn’t fit with the fact he’d paused an autopsy to take a coffee break when Nathan arrived.

“I’m casting a very wide net looking for something triggering the seizure and heart attack I found in Peggy and the heart attack I found in Karen. I don’t like seeing young people die of natural causes—their age itself suggests a contributing factor. But I’ve found no signs of a systemic allergic reaction, of a poison, or of a known drug in their system, legal or otherwise, in a quantity that concerns me.”

“What about a new designer drug? That’s what I’m worried about most,” Nathan clarified.

“Most designer drugs are derivates of existing drugs on the market. The tests might not be able to identify the precise substance, but they should still be picking up traces of the common elements that are present.”

Nathan was at the edge of his medical knowledge to figure out what question to ask, but he had to leave this office comfortable with the conclusions being reached. “This situation just feels wrong, accepting these two deaths are both natural causes. Hypothetically, assuming these two cases are murders—can you give me anything that might suggest this is a substance, either man-made or natural toxin, causing the deaths?”

Franklin rocked back in his chair as he thought about it; then he nodded. “Okay, hypothetically. It’s killing fast with a seizure, a heart attack. Something they ingest that quickly metabolizes and affects their heart—a liquid maybe. Or it could be something that is affecting the brain directly. Something they might inhale.”

“Something they inhale. A perfume.”

“It doesn’t have to be that elaborate. Like smelling chlorine in a pool or broccoli steaming—the concentrations wouldn’t have to be that high to do damage if the toxin is powerful enough.”

“That’s helpful. Anything else?”

“Theoretically, and I’m really reaching here—it could be a new class of substances that we just don’t expect—kind of like how aspirin and Tylenol are both painkillers but are very different at their molecular level. Designer drugs run in those kinds of unique classes too.

“Get something so designer it’s not even expected to have a narcotic effect, and that changes this equation. Once a decade some new category appears—meth exploded into the market, ecstasy, PCP—something that changes the look of the entire narcotics landscape. But those massive sea shifts in drug designs tend to appear on the coasts and work inland, not originate in small-town mainland USA.”

“You’re talking a first-rate chemist for creating a new drug category,” Nathan clarified.

“More than that,” Franklin replied. “You’re talking about very expensive precursor chemicals. You’re talking about control of formulations, repeatability, scientific focus. The homegrown meth cook looking to make a more potent batch so he’s tinkering a bit as he heats his pot isn’t going to be this kind of cook. It’s basic things like writing information down. Otherwise it’s just a new batch of something the cook tries on himself and you find him dead next to his hot plate. It might have been a fascinating new drug, but it will never get made again—the cook didn’t write down what he did differently this time, and he just killed himself.”

“I see your point. The drug that killed those kids at the millennium rave party years ago—you’d be able to spot it?”

“In the formulation that was used then, or any reasonably close similarity to it—I’d see it,” Franklin promised. “Nathan—science of the kind I do can never be perfect. There are too many variables that change between the time of death and when the body is found. But let me offer a reassurance. If I’m right that these two deaths are natural causes, then statistically there should be no more unexplained deaths within the Justice area for some time. If they have a cause—you’ll be learning about death number three soon enough and I’ll be asking nationwide for help to figure this out. I’ll take the media hit for declaring these natural-cause deaths.”

“You know it’s more than that.”

“I know. But in this situation, we either leave the cases open, pending more information that we don’t know where it will come from or we close them as natural causes. The honest thing to do is to close them as natural causes, and if I’m wrong, admit that publicly. We both have to flow with what is before us as facts and work from there. I’ll call if there is anything that shows up in blood tests still being run on Karen. But if they’re clean, I’ll be ready to sign off on her death as natural causes by tomorrow morning.”

Nathan wished he felt better about that answer, but at least they were answers. “That’s good to know. Thanks for your time, Franklin.”

“I wish it was an easier answer to accept.”

Nathan got to his feet, relieved to be leaving the office. “It’s what you have. That matters. It will have to do.”

* * *

Nathan stretched out on Bruce’s couch and closed his eyes. It felt very good to fade into oblivion for a minute. If he had returned to the office he would have to start returning calls on the phone slips still shoved into his pocket, and the day had just been too long to want to deal with the inevitable tussles of people in this town that were not life-and-death situations but needed a sheriff’s touch to mediate and resolve. He didn’t have it in him this particular hour.

He was beyond tired right now. He shook off that desire to cut and run and told himself to suck it in. He’d known days like this would be part of the job when he’d put his name on the ballot and asked townsfolk to trust him. “Where’s Rae?” he asked, stopping the circling thoughts running around in his head.

“At the hotel catching a nap,” Bruce answered.

The idea of a bed sounded so much more appealing than this couch. “We got preempted earlier on a trip out to Nella’s. You want to come along?” That stop was the last one Nathan could think of that might give him an answer on the details of the story Peggy had been working on at the time of her death. After that he was going home to let his dogs out and crash for a few hours of sleep.

“I’ll pass. That lady doesn’t particularly like me.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Nathan sighed. “This is typing as a second accidental death and that is freaky.”

“I don’t know what you could do besides what you’re already doing. If it is murder there has to be something that says murder.”

“I know. And I’m no doctor. The coroner is the best we have in the county, and I would have said he is as good as any in the state.”

“Then let him do his job and trust his judgment. It’s the best you can do.”

“Yeah. I got a science lesson today that convinced me I’m definitely not on ground I understand particularly well.”

If there was a link between these two cases, it circled back to the story Peggy was working on, it meant a designer drug, and that meant a cook somewhere in his area willing to kill people—the thought of that was more than just depressing, it left him chilled. Who?

Nathan swung himself back to sitting up. “I need some dinner before I probably end up out at the tile plant for the night. Let’s get Rae, go find that thick steak I owe you, and then I’ll take her out to meet Nella and we’ll try and wrap up the Peggy Worth questions tonight.”

“It sounds like a good plan.” Bruce closed the file he had been working on. “You’ll get through this, Nathan. Peggy and Karen really will be natural-caused deaths, the tile-plant strike will end, and this town will get back to normal. You’ll get back to dealing with the occasional vandalisms and the domestic fights and your grandfather speeding.”

Nathan smiled, appreciating the encouragement. “Answer me one thing first. You met folks in your career who would cook up stuff like what killed Prescott’s grandson. What were they like, the cooks who did that kind of thing?” Bruce might have been retired for years, the drugs might have changed, but the people didn’t.

Bruce rocked back in his chair and thought about it. “Not flashy, not out in front. Dispassionate about people, cold, the better ones enjoying their craft just like an arsonist would enjoy striking a match to watch it burn.”

Bruce looked over, his eyes colder now from the memories. “Greed drove them, rather than power. They wanted the cash that came from their new product but rarely wanted to work to be the power broker in an area, the one holding the most territory. Cooks were the face in the background, rarely seen, avoiding connections to the dealer crowd. Very tough men to catch. I always thought of them as assassins at heart.”