The Body Thief (8 page)

“Would you like another beer?” Sam
asked.

“Thanks, it would be nice.”

“It might even be warm enough outside to sit
on the balcony.”

With drinks in hand, the girls headed to the
sliding door that connected the living room to a small balcony. A
light breeze greeted them, but the air temperature wasn’t cold.

“It feels like spring already,” Hannah
smiled.

“Yes. Soon we’ll be complaining it’s too
hot!”

Hannah merely smiled again and took another
sip from her beer. Sam sat in a deck chair and Hannah took a seat
opposite. For a moment, the girls enjoyed the silence until Hannah
let out a heavy sigh.

“My, that sounds ominous,” Sam teased.

“Maybe it is.”

Sam straightened in her chair, a little
alarmed at the solemn expression on her friend’s face. “Don’t tell
me Aaron is giving you grief again? Sorry, I should have asked
earlier how things were. When will that man face the fact that the
two of you are over and you’re never going back?”

“No, it’s not Aaron. I haven’t heard from
him in weeks, thank God. I think he’s finally gotten the message
we’re through.”

“Then why do you look so troubled?”

Hannah stared at her and then sat forward in
her chair. Her shoulders slumped on another heavy sigh.

A sense of foreboding crept through Sam’s
veins. “Hannah… You’re scaring me. What’s going on?”

“You know when we were talking about the
increase in the number of bodies coming in with missing
organs?”

Sam grimaced. “Donated organs. They’re not
exactly missing. I assume someone knows where they are.” She
attempted a smile at her joke, but it fell flat. Hannah’s
expression remained serious.

“I don’t receive any paperwork, except the
patient’s personal details and the name of the hospital that sends
them. I only assume the organs and tissues have been donated
because, what else would have happened to them?”

Sam frowned. She stared hard at Hannah and
her pulse picked up its pace. “What are you saying?”

“I’m not sure, but yesterday I had a body
that was missing nearly everything.”

“What do you mean,
everything
?”

Hannah spread her arms out wide, sloshing
her beer. “Everything.”

Sam shook her head in confusion. “Like, all
of the organs?”

“I couldn’t tell just by looking at the
suture lines which organs were gone, but from the position and
length of the incisions, I’m guessing most of them had been
removed. On top of that, there were no tendons or ligaments; both
corneas and sclera were missing; even a large piece of skin. I
didn’t immediately realize the skin had been removed too, because
it had been taken from the deceased’s back. It wasn’t until I’d
turned the body over to clean it that I saw the fresh wound.” She
shook her head. “It was awful. I think there’s something weird
going on.”

Sam stared at her in shock, her heart now
thumping double time. She could barely believe what she was
hearing. Never in her years as a doctor and pathologist had she
heard of people donating their ligaments and tendons, or even
pieces of skin. Though it was possible to reuse that type of
tissue, most people weren’t aware of that and didn’t pay them any
heed. She thought back to Natalie Piccoli and the missing consent
form and unease trickled like icy water down her spine.

“I’m thinking about going to the
police.”

Hannah’s quiet words jerked Sam out of her
troubled thoughts. “The police?”

“Yes. I’ve got a bad feeling. This patient
was eighty-six. Who gives consent for that kind of carnage on
behalf of someone who’s eighty-six? Something’s not right.”

“I agree. Have you spoken to Max?” Sam
asked, referring to Hannah’s boss and the owner of the funeral
home.

“Yes, but he barely listened. He doesn’t
care and he doesn’t want to get involved, particularly if it might
affect his business. A body’s a body as far as Max’s concerned.
‘There’s no bringing them back, so why worry about how they went
out?’ That’s Max’s motto.”

“Empathetic right to the very end, isn’t
he?”

“Yep, that’s Max,” Hannah responded, her
voice dry. She took another mouthful of beer and looked out across
the city. Thousands of twinkling lights from distant houses and
shop fronts lit up the night. She turned back to Sam. “How about
you? Have you noticed anything strange lately?”

Sam frowned and shook her head. “Apart from
the rush of donor bodies last month, not really. But now that you
mention it, today I autopsied a woman who was missing all of her
major organs…but the tissues you mentioned were still there. I must
admit, at the time I found it a little strange that someone would
donate so many organs. It’s not the usual thing we see.”

“Where did she come from?”

“The Sydney Harbour Hospital.”

“Who authorized the organ removal prior to
autopsy?”

“Richard Davis.”

“Have you spoken to him?”

“No. I only conducted the PM this afternoon.
Staffing told me he was ill, along with a couple of others. That’s
the reason I was called in. I’m sure he wouldn’t take kindly to me
contacting him.”

“What did Richard think about the sudden
increase in donors last month? I assume you spoke with him about
it.”

“Yes, I did. I can’t remember exactly what
he said. He didn’t seem too concerned. I also mentioned it to my
brother, but he suggested it could simply be a response to the fact
we were in the middle of a harsh winter and that time of year, we
always experience an increase in the number of deaths and
correspondingly, an increase in the number of donor bodies. And of
course, there’s the success of his campaign to consider.”

Sam pursed her lips in thought. “At the
time, his explanation seemed reasonable. Of course, I didn’t know
about what you were seeing at your work, and what you’re still
seeing.”

Silence fell between them as they were once
again caught up in their thoughts, but this time, it was far from
easy. Sam finished her beer and set the bottle down on the small
cane table that squatted on the balcony between them. The breeze
had picked up and now had a distinct chill to it. She shivered and
hugged herself.

“It’s cooling off. I might go in,” she said,
standing and then moving toward the sliding door.

Hannah looked up at her with a troubled
expression. “I still think I should go to the police.”

Sam stopped and turned. “And tell them
what?”

“I don’t know! But something’s not right. I
can feel it in here,” Hannah said, placing a hand over her heart.
“I owe it to the deceased to make sure they’re treated with
respect, right to the very end. It’s my job to protect them, to
make sure that happens and right now, I’m horribly afraid it’s
not.”

“We’re talking about people who were mostly
patients of the Sydney Harbour Hospital. What if my brother’s
involved?” Sam whispered, hardly daring to give the awful thought
voice.

“We don’t know anything for sure.”

“All of the cases that came to my attention
had Alistair noted as the surgeon,” she said, feeling more and more
concerned.

“He’s the head surgeon, Sam. The fact that
his name was on a few cases doesn’t mean anything.”

Relief surged through her. “Yes, you’re
right. I’m being silly. Of course Alistair’s not involved.”

“The only way we’re going to find out what’s
going on is to go to the police and let them know what we’ve been
seeing. If they take this on, the hospital will have to provide
them with the records. You and I aren’t going to be given access to
them. They’re confidential.”

Sam nodded, knowing what Hannah said was
true, even though the last thing she wanted was to draw attention
to their suspicions.

“Will you come with me?”

“To the police?” Sam asked, even though she
hadn’t misunderstood. She wanted to buy time, even a few seconds,
to decide what her answer would be.

Hannah looked at her solemnly. “Yes.”

“I… I…”

“Sam!” Hannah cried in exasperation.
“Something’s not right. You know it as well as I do. It could be
any number of doctors in that hospital. There’s nothing to say it’s
your brother.”

“And if it is?” Sam whispered, hardly able
to lift her gaze from her feet.

“Then so be it,” Hannah softly, with sadness
and resignation in her eyes.

A sudden surge of anger rushed through Sam’s
veins and she clenched her fists. “No! No, it isn’t that easy!
Alistair’s the best brother a girl could ever have! My dad died
when I was a baby! Alistair took on all the responsibilities of the
man around the house. He carried me across the burrs when I went
outside without my shoes; he helped change my dirty diapers; he
even threatened to beat up Sandy Packer when he refused to take me
to the prom. He’s always been there for me! He’s my brother and I
love him!”

Hannah pushed away from her chair and moved
to stand close to Sam. Her eyes were solemn, her face was beyond
sad. She reached out and squeezed Sam’s shoulder. Sam flinched from
the contact and Hannah’s hand dropped away.

“I understand, Sammie. I understand about
all of those things. Your brother’s a saint. He’s the nicest man I
know. Of course he isn’t involved in something so horrible! He’s
good and kind and compassionate. He loves his patients! But someone
is
responsible. And families of the deceased have a right to
know. People planning their deaths need to know we don’t take their
wishes lightly. At the very least, it needs to be investigated. If
Alistair’s innocent, you have nothing to worry about.”

Sam stared at her friend, suddenly wishing
she’d never agreed to meet. She should have simply declined
Hannah’s dinner invitation and gone home to bed. Now it was too
late. The conversation had happened and it couldn’t be undone. It
was clear Hannah intended to report what she’d discovered to the
police, with or without Sam.

With resolve firming up inside her, she held
Hannah’s gaze. “And if he isn’t?”

Her friend stared right back at her and Sam
could tell Hannah was silently pleading with her to understand and
do the right thing. A long moment later, Sam cursed under her
breath, pushed past Hannah and headed back inside.

Dear Diary,

What have I done? I’m terrified I’ve created
a monster. I’ve sold my soul to the devil and there’s no telling
he’ll ever give it back. And what is anyone without a soul?

* * *

The phone near Rohan’s elbow rang and he
leaned over to answer it.

“Detective Coleridge.”

“Detective, it’s Constable Foley downstairs.
I have a couple of women here who wish to speak with someone about
the illegal harvesting of human organs and tissue. Are you
available?”

Rohan bit back a sound of surprise. It
wasn’t every day he took a call like this. He glanced at his watch.
He was intrigued and there was still an hour before his shift
ended. Besides, he was the only one around. “Sure,” he replied.
“I’ll be down in a minute.”

Replacing the phone on its cradle, Rohan
pushed away from his desk and headed for the stairwell that
connected the first floor with the ground level. Taking the stairs
two at a time, he then strode across the worn linoleum and punched
his security code into the panel on the door that divided the entry
to the stairs from the reception. The door beeped and he swung it
open and stepped into the public waiting area.

His gaze was immediately drawn to a
striking, tall blonde who stood closest to the door. With bumps and
curves in all the right places, she wore her Levis and long sleeved
T-shirt with casual panache. The other woman had her back to him.
She was as dark as the blonde was fair. Shorter in stature, but
with a tidy figure that was in proportion to her height, there was
something about her that seemed familiar. He stilled, trying to
place her in his memory. She turned to face him and it came back to
him in a rush.

He shook his head in surprise. “Samantha
Wolfe? Is that you?”

Surprise and recognition flared in her
familiar brown eyes before it was quickly replaced by an expression
that bordered on angry. With her lips compressed, she reached up
and pushed a length of wavy, dark hair from her eyes. Her
expression was far from friendly.

He frowned and wondered at her strange
reaction. As far as he could recall, the last time he’d seen her
she hadn’t been upset, and yet it was clear she was now. Perhaps it
would be better for another detective to conduct the interview? The
woman was obviously already on edge. Getting to the bottom of any
story was always more difficult when the interviewee was
hostile.

But what excuse would he give? He didn’t
have a clue about the cause of her antagonism. Besides, there was
no one else upstairs. The other rostered on detectives had left in
a group to enforce a search warrant on the headquarters of one of
the city’s most notorious biker gangs. They wouldn’t be back
anytime soon.

The only reason Rohan had been confined to
his desk was because he was still recovering from a football injury
he’d sustained the weekend before. Detective Superintendent Holt
Denman had refused to allow him to take part in a raid that could
quite possibly turn physical. His boss had enough to worry about
without concerning himself with an officer who wasn’t at his peak.
At least, that’s the excuse Holt had given when he’d ordered Rohan
to stay put.

So now he had the dubious pleasure of
interviewing a blonde who looked like she could grace any catwalk
and the angry woman from his past who stood defiantly beside her. A
woman who was even now watching him through narrowed eyes. With no
other option, Rohan stepped forward and held out his hand to the
blonde and shot her a friendly smile.