by Radclyffe
“Thanks,” Jay said tightly. She paid Hasim, handed Olivia her coffee, and juggled the food bag, her coffee, and her cane as they walked.
“How is your leg?” Olivia said quietly. “You’re limping a little this morning.”
“Just not used to all the exercise.”
“Are you taking anything for it?”
“Motrin when I can remember, which is almost never.”
“I’ve got some in my office. We can stop there first.”
“I’m fi—” Jay nodded. “Yeah, that’d be good, thanks.”
When they reached her office, Olivia set her coffee cup on the desk and rummaged around in her top drawer until she found the ibuprofen bottle. She shook out three and looked up to find Jay close beside her. Bruised gray circles smudged her lower lids, her dark hair was tousled, her face paler than usual. Olivia stopped just before she reached out to cup Jay’s cheek, instead, offering the pills. “Are you sure you’re all right? You’re not in too much pain?”
Jay covered Olivia’s hand, laced her fingers through hers. “Does it count if my heart aches?”
Olivia took a sharp breath. “Jay, I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Then don’t write me off.”
“I never said that.”
“Then what’s the I’m too busy to see you line mean?”
“It’s true.” Olivia paused, closed her eyes for second. “As far as it goes, it’s true. And I suppose, yes, it’s also a good excuse for me to put a little distance between us. I don’t want what you make me want.”
Jay’s face blanked. “Right. Sorry. I’m pushing you and I didn’t mean to.”
“If we could just—”
“Hey, you already told me what you wanted.” Jay took a step back. “I should’ve listened. I’m listening now. It’s okay. We have to work together, and you’ve got a lot of work to do. I don’t intend to make you uncomfortable.”
“Thank you,” Olivia said, pushing aside the irrational spear of disappointment. She’d gotten what she wanted, and sooner or later, she’d be glad about that. “We should get to rounds.”
Jay picked up her coffee, tilted her head toward the bag. “Take the bagel with you. You can eat it when nobody’s looking.”
“What about you?”
“I had breakfast earlier with a friend.”
“Oh, all right then. Then we should go.”
Jay held the door silently as Olivia passed through. There was nothing left to say.
Chapter Twenty-six
Olivia ate the bagel and didn’t care who noticed her eating during rounds. She wasn’t particular about formalities, and even if she had been, half the department had been up all night in the field and in the Graveyard. Everyone was drinking coffee and most were finishing a hasty breakfast. As much as her weary brain would let her, she focused on the residents, fellows, and students presenting cases. But even as she worked, she was aware of Jay, slouched in the front row, one leg stretched out in front of her, cradling her coffee cup on her thigh. Not noticing her took more effort than Olivia could manage—the spark of pleasure too addicting to ignore. And that was the problem, wasn’t it? Already she was incapable of setting any kind of limits on her attraction, and the hunger she’d staved off for so long gnawed at her. Jay stirred all her appetites. Worse even than the physical craving, as dangerous as that was for her, was the ache of simply missing her.
When the session ended, concerned and curious colleagues waylaid Olivia, inquiring about Dr. Greenly’s condition or attempting to schedule meetings they’d apparently been trying to set up with him without results. As she answered what she could, she caught sight of Jay walking out with Archie and Tasha. Jay didn’t look her way.
When Olivia reached the hall, Jay was gone.
Chalking up the instant sense of deflation to fatigue, Olivia headed to her office to face a new onslaught of emails with directives from the Board of Medical Examiners about her transition, committee meetings she’d now need to attend, and reports on open cases. Pam called every few minutes for instructions on how to handle some of Greenly’s appointments and correspondence. By the time Olivia had wrangled the backlog into a manageable state, it was midafternoon. Time to go home and sleep.
Out of habit, she made one final check of her mail and clicked on a new message from her Go opponent. An image appeared with the opening move in their new game. She shook her head, recognizing the classic first move that set up a familiar and difficult strategy. Having studied many previous games by the masters, she also knew the countermove, at least the conventional and probably anticipated one. The conventional would never be enough to defeat this opponent. She answered quickly with an unorthodox move of her own, documented the board with an image, and sent it off. The message she sent with it was brief: What would be the point of playing a safe game when the risk is so much more interesting?
She clicked send and didn’t bother to ask herself why she suddenly felt like taking a risk.
She drove home in that half awake, half on the verge of sleep state she’d gotten used to after years of taking night call, and started shedding her clothes as soon as she got inside her front door. By the time she reached her bed, leaving a trail of discarded items behind her, she was nude and her mind was mercilessly empty. She pulled down the covers, dropped facedown, and slid her hand across the sheets to the space where Jay had lain beside her. Imagining the warm flesh beneath her fingers, she slept.
*
Olivia’s phone pulled her from a deep and dreamless sleep. Almost awake by the time she found it and answered, she said, “Dr. Price.”
“Sorry to wake you, Doctor,” Roxanne Markham, the tech on call, said briskly, “but we’ve got an all call.”
An all call. Mass casualty alert. Olivia sat up abruptly, her mind completely clear. “What and where?”
“Initial report was a fire, but now we’re getting first responder reports of a bomb. A bar at Second and Moore. Fire rescue, police on scene.”
“Casualties?”
“Multiple, exact number unspecified.”
Olivia stepped into the bathroom and turned on the shower. “I’m on my way. Are you notifying first and second on-calls?”
“I was thinking I’d call everyone.”
“Put everyone on standby at least,” Olivia said. “We can update them when we assess on scene.”
“Got it.”
“Thanks, Rox.”
“We’re rolling. See you there.”
Not bothering to wait for the water to warm, Olivia allowed herself a minute under the lukewarm spray to rinse away the sleep, then dressed as quickly as she had showered. She was downstairs, out the door, and to her car in under five minutes.
Three a.m. The sky was cloudless with a bright, nearly full moon. She’d slept almost ten hours. Hopefully Jay had done the same.
The blaze was visible from five blocks away, a shifting tide of crimson churning in the sea of black. The traffic snarl started a block later, and she slapped her portable flasher onto her dash, adding her strobe to the dozens of others swirling atop the haphazard morass of fire trucks, ambulances, and police vehicles. Once she’d threaded her way through the progressively clogged streets until she couldn’t drive any farther, she parked, pulled down her visor with the ME on Call sign clearly visible, and grabbed her gear.
This time the club itself appeared to be a victim, as well as its patrons. The face of the ground floor corner establishment was illuminated by emergency light bars and a large portable halogen light set up in the middle of the roped-off intersection. What had been plate-glass windows were now shattered into glistening shards and spikes and scattered over the street. The brick façade with its blown-out eyes was scorched. Black streaks climbed from the empty orifices toward the second floor like upraised arms searching for rescue, and sooty water dripped down from above, sluicing along windowsills and doorjambs to puddle in the street. The door itself, a plain black rectangle, hung askew on one bent hinge. Flames
shot from the rooftop of the adjoining building, and two ladder trucks extended long mechanical arms into the air where firefighters doused the fire with high-pressure hoses.
Olivia approached a patrolman, identified herself, and asked, “Who’s in charge?”
“Incident commander is Pete Gonzalez. He’s around here somewhere—short guy, black hair, mustache, trench coat.”
“I’ll find him.” She moved a few feet away, out of the stream of spent water falling from the hoses. “What’s the status on the fire?”
“Last I heard it’s contained. They expect to have it under control any minute.”
“Clear to go inside?”
The patrolman shrugged. “Plenty of people been coming in and out, but officially I guess you have to ask Pete.”
Olivia winced inwardly at the likelihood of the scene being compromised by all the activity, but nothing she could do to change that now. She just needed to ensure the bodies were undisturbed. “Thanks—will do. Is there somewhere we can park our vans to transport the fatalities?”
“I’ll contact traffic control to see about that. We’ll try to make some space, but”—he made a face—“it’s pretty much a clusterfuck out here.”
“Well, hopefully that will change shortly.”
Olivia approached the site of the destruction, scanning the clumps of photographers, firefighters, police officers, and others milling around outside and coming and going through the entrance to the bar for someone who appeared to be in charge. Two sheet-covered bodies lay on the sidewalk, one with an arm extended toward the group of onlookers, the fingers curled plaintively. The other looked suspiciously small for a full cadaver.
Another uniformed police officer, a young female looking decidedly ill at ease, stood next to the two bodies.
“I’m Dr. Olivia Price, chief medical examiner,” Olivia said, only half aware of how easily she’d said that. “Have these bodies been moved?”
The police officer actually snapped to attention. “No, ma’am, Doctor. This is where they landed.”
“See that no one moves them.”
“Yes, ma’am.” The officer glanced down and then quickly up again. “Um, do you know how long that might be, ma’am?”
“Until CSU and our techs are done. It’s going to be a while.”
The officer tried to hide her disappointment. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you.”
Olivia nodded. “Have you seen—”
“Dr. Price!”
Olivia turned. Darrell and Archie, and just behind them, Tasha and Jay, hurried toward her. She had only a second to reflect on Tasha and Jay arriving together before she had to put everything else from her mind.
“Where do you want us?” Darrell said. “Rox and Abe just pulled in too.”
“Good. The four of you pair off,” Olivia said briskly and pointed to the sheet-covered bodies. “Darrell and Archie, take one of these, Tasha—Jay’s with you. Take the other one.”
Jay looked surprised, as if she’d expected—hoped?—to be with Olivia, but she said nothing.
“Got it,” Darrell said and Tasha echoed him.
“I’ll be inside,” Olivia said. “Tell Rox and Abe to find me.”
“Sure thing,” Darrell said.
Olivia spared a quick glance at Jay, who was still watching her. Jay looked slightly more rested than the last time she’d seen her, and Olivia wondered how she’d gotten there so quickly without a car. But then, she and Tasha had arrived together. The disquieting thought was a distraction she couldn’t entertain. Abruptly, she turned away and strode toward the dark, gaping mouth of the club. A heavyset man with a broad jaw covered with a day’s growth of beard was just emerging when she reached the doorway. “Detective Gonzalez?”
“Lieutenant,” he said absently. “Who are you?”
“Dr. Olivia Price, chief medical examiner.”
His face lit up, transforming him from intimidating to attractive. “Damn glad to see you, Doc. We’ve got a lot of work for your team. Two out here, half a dozen inside, and who knows what else in the building next door.”
“I heard a rumor there was a bomb. Is that what you suspect?”
“Looks like a homemade firebomb from the level of destruction, and no evidence of any other incendiary. The fire marshal’s looking into it now, so we’re not official.”
“We’re clear to work the scene inside?”
“Yep. The bomb guys have come and gone.”
“I’ll have my team start as soon as CSU is done, then,” Olivia said.
“You can climb right up their tail as far as I’m concerned. We need to get the bodies out of here.”
“As quickly as we can.” Olivia signaled to Archie. When he hurried over, she said, “We’ve got more casualties inside. Who’s on camera?”
“Jay, right now.”
“Good. Thanks. Tell her I need her.”
“Right.”
A minute later Jay approached. She was wearing the field jacket she’d borrowed from Olivia and carrying a camera. The jacket was still too tight, and she still looked great in it. Olivia cleared her throat. “We’ll need photographs inside as soon as you’re done out here.”
“I’m pretty much set here.”
“Good. I haven’t gotten a good look inside yet, so you can photograph while we see what we’re dealing with.”
“Sounds good to me.”
When Jay fell in beside her, Olivia said, “This isn’t usual for us. Or who knows, maybe it’s the new normal.”
“You mean a constant stream of mass casualty alerts?” Jay said.
Olivia nodded. “The last one was a derailed Amtrak train, a year ago. Now we’ve had two in rapid succession.”
“Similar too,” Jay said.
“How do you mean?”
“Both bars, not-so-great part of town, seemingly indiscriminate victims. Death at a distance.”
“You’re right,” Olivia said, making a mental note to examine the reports for possible connections. “Good call.”
“Thanks.” Jay glanced around. “I had a good teacher.”
Olivia’s face warmed, and she hurried to the entrance. Ridiculous to be so pleased by a throwaway comment. “If you’ve never done this kind of scene before, it could be a little overwhelming.”
“I’ll be okay,” Jay said. “Sometimes there’s not a lot of difference between what you see out here and in the trauma unit.”
“Only a matter of minutes, sometimes,” Olivia murmured.
“Or luck.” Jay slowed. “Who are these guys?”
A man and a woman, both wearing black raincoats and dark suits, stepped in front of them, blocking the doorway.
Olivia paused, frowned. “I’m sorry, we need to get inside.”
“Who might you be?” asked the tall, sharp-eyed brunette, her voice officious despite its bored monotone.
“I’m the chief medical examiner,” Olivia said. “I need access to the scene.”
“That won’t be necessary, Doctor,” the woman said. “DMORT is on their way and will handle the recovery of the bodies.”
“DMORT?” Olivia suppressed a surge of annoyance. The regional Disaster Mortuary Operational Response Team was part of the national disaster network and often assisted in large-scale recovery and identification efforts. The word being assisted, and she hadn’t asked for any help. “By whose authority?”
“By ours,” the woman replied. She and the man took out badges and held them up. “Homeland Security.”
“You’re declaring this a federal crime scene?” Olivia asked.
“That’s right.”
“It’s customary for the local authorities, particularly the medical examiners, to maintain control of the scene and liaise with DMORT.”
“Not in this case.” The male agent spoke for the first time.
Olivia blew out an exasperated breath. “Listen, this is no place for a turf battle. We are here, this is our scene, and I need you to let us pass.”
The brunette loo
ked almost apologetic, for a fleeting second. “The dead aren’t going anywhere, Doctor. We’ll see that you are copied—”
A barrage of loud cracks drowned out her words. The federal agents pulled their weapons.
Someone shouted, “Shots fired, shots fired, down, down, everyone down.”
Jay grabbed her, and the next thing Olivia knew, she was falling. Pain stabbed through her forehead, a heavy weight forced the breath from her chest, and all around her, chaos raged.
Chapter Twenty-seven
“Olivia!” Jay struggled to keep the panic from her voice. “Medic, I need a medic!”
Her call for aid was echoed everywhere. First responders tended the injured who lay in the street or struggled for cover. Jay never lost her composure in an emergency, but this wasn’t a patient in trauma admitting, this was Olivia. The red flashing lights rendered Olivia’s pale face otherworldly, as if she might slip away into another dimension any second. Jay grasped her hand and held it tightly. Olivia’s eyelids flickered and opened a fraction. “Olivia, it’s Jay. Lie still.”
The fingers grasping Jay’s twitched, then held more firmly.
“What happened?” Olivia asked faintly.
“I’m not sure.” Jay brushed blond hair away from the blood streaming down Olivia’s temple. “Maybe shots, I don’t know. There are wounded.”
“You should go. Get to safety.”
“Are you kidding? I’m not leaving you.”
Olivia slowly propped herself up on one arm. “I’m fine. Lost my footing and struck my head.”
“You’re bleeding.” Jay waved to a paramedic in a firefighter’s turnout coat. “Over here.”
The medic dropped down beside them. “What have we got?”
