I merely nodded. Claire hesitated and then strode toward him, striking the gun against his good shoulder. “Tell me where Rebecca’s heart is or I’ll keep putting bullets into you until you do.”
I stepped in front of the automatic Quint had dropped. Claire bared her teeth. “Don’t take another step or I’ll blow out your kneecap.”
“Brian’s using you, Claire.”
Tears streamed down her face. “No, he’s not. He’s been avenging our daughter.”
“Have you asked him why her body was mutilated in the first place?”
“You shut your mouth.” Brian started toward me but a low groan from the cooler drew his attention. Chang shifted slightly. Brian brought the butt of his gun down on Chang’s head. The doctor subsided.
“Damian, do you want to tell Claire what her charming husband and his frat buddies have been up to?”
The man swayed. “Since you’ve figured it out, why don’t you tell her?”
Hoping not to push her over the edge, I kept my tone even, conversational. “Brian and his college pals have been running OraGen as a black market organ business. My guess is their little enterprise began in Chicago but when things got too hot, they moved it down here.”
Like a kaleidoscope the pieces of information fell together. “You suspected something was wrong even in Chicago, didn’t you? That’s when you started drinking.”
A tear streamed down her face, but she didn’t move.
“You actually filed for divorce, but Brian convinced you to make a fresh start here.”
She flinched. “He said it would all be better.”
“All three partners moved to Florida within a year of each other and struck pay dirt. They pay morgues and funeral homes for access to the dead so they can harvest tissue, skin and bones. Then they bring in hospitals so they can reap the biggest money maker of all, organs and other viable tissue.”
I dropped down to my knees as if I wanted to look into the wounded man’s eyes. “Isn’t that right, Damian? You got your hooks into Hassenfeld because he’d been wiped clean in a divorce and had a gambling habit. What weakness were you blackmailing Depp with?”
“He was a kleptomaniac. Stole jewelry off the bodies.” Quint grimaced. “Thought it was a real joke when he stole the rattle out of the kid’s coffin.”
“Her name was Rebecca,” I said sharply. “Where did Depp hide the items he stole?”
“There’s a false bottom in one of the display coffins.” A dark shadow moved through the delivery entrance. I kept talking.
“Brian wanted out, didn’t he? He had a new baby and his wife was getting better. But you and Chang wanted to expand the operation and he got scared. You used poor Becca’s death as a warning.”
I looked at Brian. The sheen of sweat was visible on his forehead. “I bet Hassenfeld even faked an autopsy report in case you needed even more pressure to keep him in line. Was that report what you were looking for the day you knocked me out in his office, Brian?”
Quint closed his eyes. Claire moved her gun away from his shoulder. “Brian?”
The shadow had crept to the first row of tables. I moved my hand slightly until my fingers could grip the automatic by my feet. “Think about it, Claire. Podiatry’s good business but how do you explain the bank account in his name only that contains close to a million dollars?”
She wailed and swung toward her husband. A crack exploded. Brian spun to the side and collapsed. Sam sprung up from his concealed position and sprinted toward us. “Police. Drop your guns.”
Like a wind-up toy Claire slowly turned toward him. I grabbed the automatic and rose. “Don’t do it, Claire. I can get you help. You’ve been pumped so full of drugs you don’t know what you’re doing.”
Tears continued to stream down her face. “I have nothing to lose.”
“Yes, you do. Think of all the lives you’ve saved as a paramedic. You didn’t kill Rebecca, and now you’re free to truly mourn her loss.”
I reached out and touched her shoulder. “She’s at rest now and she wants her mommy to be okay.”
Sobs racked Claire’s thin frame as she sank to her knees, letting the gun drop. Sam crossed to her and kicked the revolver clear. I wrapped my arms around her shoulders and looked up at Sam, who was dressed head to foot in black SWAT clothes and bulletproof vest. The rest of the SWAT team swarmed the room.
“Tell Tony that was a nice shot.”
“Better him than me. I was so scared for you when everyone was playing ‘who’s going to shoot first’ that I wouldn’t have been able to hold a steady aim.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, right. Last time you took me shooting, you landed every bull’s eye.”
He knelt beside me and gently covered my right hand. “Honey, why don’t you let me take that gun from you? As I recall, at that same target practice, you came close to putting a bullet in my ass your aim is so bad.”
I released my death grip and leaned my head against him. “Wouldn’t want anything bad happening to such a nice ass.”
He planted a kiss on my head. “Damn, I’m glad this case is over. I’m tired of having to chase after you.”
He stood and reached down to help me up, then glanced over to where a paramedic was working on Quint. “Hey, pretty boy. Guess you’ll be too busy fending off other felons to be sending pigs’ hearts to women.”
Quint curled his lips back in distaste. “What are you ragging about?”
“That nice present you delivered to Nicole’s house.”
The man’s eyes drifted closed and he mumbled, “The only thing I ever sent your bitch girlfriend was a bouquet of roses.”
Chapter Eighteen
As was the way with news, after a few days all the brouhaha over the organ operation died down. Although everybody connected with OraGen had gotten attorneys, it was only a matter of time before one would break and make the first deal. My money was on Dr. Lee Chang. Claire had committed herself, and all the poison that had been pumped into her system was slowly being countered. I’d already found another attorney to represent her.
Armed with a new warrant, Sam had searched the coffin in the funeral home and found Depp’s stash of stolen personal effects. Eventually, a silver rattle would be returned to Claire. Once she was well enough, she planned to divorce Brian. A first step of many to regain her life and identity.
The organ harvesting ring had been dismantled and my former client was getting the help she needed. I should be satisfied.
Still… I pushed away a stack of office mail and braced my elbows on the desk. I felt restless. No arraignments, no motions—nothing was on my calendar for the rest of the week. Even Mom had completed her last voiceover session, so no more trips to Miami. Sitting at a desk was definitely not my style. I wanted…action. I needed to be in court again.
I groaned and lowered my face into my hands.
“Nicole, are you all right?”
I looked up at Maria standing in the door. “Shoot me. I think I may have become an action junkie.”
“I may have a cure for that. I have a Mr. Cook trying frantically to get an attorney to stop a petition before it’s too late. He saw you on the news and thinks you’re just the lawyer who can do it.”
“Put him through.”
When the phone rang, I picked up. “This is Nicole Sterling.”
“Ms. Sterling. I’m Marvin Cook. I’m at the Atlanta airport with my wife Ellen. We can’t get there in time so we need your help.” His voice cracked. “They’re going to mutilate our baby girl.”
“Try to stay calm, sir. Who’s going to hurt your daughter?”
“Oceanview. Maybe I should back up. Our daughter ran away from home a year ago. We tried everything but never found her.”
“Go on.”
“Then I happened to catch a story last night about a Jane Doe in West Palm Beach. She had overdosed on drugs and was comatose. No identification had been found. The news flashed a photo and I swear she’s our Rachel. However, when I ca
lled the hospital this morning, the administrator said I was too late. The woman had been declared brain dead, and the hospital was petitioning to take her off life support and to use her as an organ donor.”
In the background I could hear a woman sobbing. “They won’t even wait for us to make identification and say goodbye to our baby.”
“Did they say what time the petition was going to be heard?”
“At eleven. The first available flight we could get won’t land until twelve-thirty.”
I glanced at my watch. Nine-thirty. It was going to be close. “Here’s what I want you to do. Do you have Rachel’s photo on you?”
“Yes, I have it on my cell phone. I also managed to download a photo of the Jane Doe from the internet.”
“Good. I’ll give you an email address to send them to me. Then I need you to find a business center. I don’t care if it is handwritten, but I need a notarized statement from you. State who you are, where you live. That you believe the Jane Doe to be your daughter Rachel and are not giving Oceanview permission to take her off life support or remove her organs. Also write that you are authorizing me to appear on your behalf. Okay?”
“I don’t know how to thank you.”
“Mr. Cook, I’ll prepare a pleading for a temporary injunction, but I can’t guarantee what the judge will do. The hospital has had time to prepare its case.”
“I understand, but we had to try.”
“That we will, Mr. Cook. Now here’s my information…”
Eighty minutes later I entered the chambers of the judge on call for emergency motions. A man in a banker-gray suit stood at the front by the podium. He turned his head and his brows drew together. I held out my hand.
“Good morning. I’m Nicole Sterling.”
He shook hands. “Nick Taylor.”
“You represent Oceanview Medical Center in the matter of Jane Doe?”
“Yes.”
I reached into my bag and pulled out a sheaf of documents. “I represent the interests of Marvin and Ellen Cook. Here’s a copy of my notice of appearance and request for a temporary injunction.”
“What?” As he scanned the pleadings, the bailiff entered the room followed by Judge Kay Fanning. She sat and swung toward me. “Ms. Sterling. I was just apprised of your notice of appearance.”
“Yes, Your Honor.” I took a deep breath. Although my pulse was humming in anticipation of argument, there was no sign of hyperventilation. Nothing like flying bullets to cure panic attacks.
“I represent the Cooks, who contacted Oceanview this morning. As the affidavit I filed indicates, they believe the Jane Doe to be their daughter Rachel Cook. They requested a chance to identify their daughter but were told they were too late. On their behalf, I am requesting a temporary injunction on the hospital’s petition to use the Jane Doe as an organ donor until the Cooks have had a chance to verify they are her parents.”
I pulled out the color copies of the photographs. “As Your Honor will note from the attached photographs, the resemblance between the women is striking. The estimated age of the Jane Doe also approximates that of Rachel.”
Judge Fanning studied the photographs. “Yes. I see the resemblance.” She looked at the other attorney. “Mr. Taylor, I know you’ve just been presented with the opposition. Any response?”
“Yes, Your Honor. As the petition indicates, the Jane Doe has been pronounced irreparably brain dead. Although the hospital has her on life support, every minute counts in terms of organ viability. When the story broke, numerous people contacted the police and the hospital, claiming to know the woman. None of those stories panned out and several people were associated with a radical group opposed to organ transplantation. I have to question why the Cooks waited so long to step forward.”
“Ms. Sterling, that’s a valid question.”
“Judge, the Cooks live in Atlanta, Georgia. Their daughter ran away from home a year ago and they hadn’t been able to find her. Last night Mr. Cook was watching a news program when it aired the story about Jane Doe. They contacted the hospital immediately and are scheduled to land in West Palm Beach at twelve-thirty.”
I paused to marshal my thoughts. “The Cooks should be allowed a chance to be with their daughter one last time.”
“Your Honor, this woman is an empty shell—”
I whirled on Taylor but the judge held up her hand. “Counselor, that will be enough. I find that asking the hospital to wait a few more hours to allow the Cooks to identify the woman in question is not unreasonable. I’m granting the injunction for the forty-eight hours requested.”
She rose.
After the judge exited, I gave Taylor a nod. “The Cooks will head straight to the hospital. I’ll contact you later today. If it’s not Rachel, I’ll advise the judge and you immediately.”
“We would appreciate it.” He turned and walked out of the room.
I turned on my phone and left the Cooks a message. Then I rushed out of the room. Next stop, Oceanview.
A short time later Dr. Rosa Cruz stood next to me at the window to the room where the lifeless Jane Doe lay in a hospital bed. Machines that kept her heart beating hummed and beeped. “We’re not monsters here,” the administrator murmured. “What David Hassenfeld did was reprehensible. The hospital is reviewing procedures to prevent anything so heinous from ever happening again.”
“Good.” I continued to watch the woman caught helplessly between life and death. More than anything else, I wanted a resolution for her. Whatever mistakes she had made in her life, her spirit deserved to go on to the next leg of her journey.
“We really did try everything possible to save her.”
I saw the sincerity in Dr. Cruz’s dark eyes. “I believe you.”
“Let me show you something.”
I followed her down the hallway to another room. She stepped inside with a bright smile on her face. “Hey, Jennifer.”
A waif of a blond-haired, blue-eyed teenager lay in bed with an ereader. She glanced up and smiled. “Hi, Dr. Cruz.”
The administrator motioned toward me. “I’ve brought someone to meet you. This is Nicole Sterling, she’s an attorney.”
Delight pushed aside the shadow of pain in the girl’s eyes and her grin went up in wattage. “Oh wow, I want to go to law school.”
I crossed over to the bed. A sickly pallor marred her fair skin. I didn’t need a medical degree to realize she was seriously ill. I perched on the edge of the bed.
“Do you?” I gestured at the digital device she held. “You’re on the right track. Law involves a ton of reading.”
“I know. I want to be a children’s advocate.” She pleated the edge of her sheet. “I’ve been in hospitals a lot so I understand what they’re going through.”
I reached into my purse and pulled out the card holder from a side pocket. “Here’s my business card. It has my email address. I’d love to hear what law school you get admitted to.”
“Wow, thanks.” Jennifer took the card but I saw her fingers tremble.
Dr. Cruz stirred. “We’ll let you rest now, honey.”
“All I do is rest,” she grumbled.
However, after I stood and looked down, the girl’s eyes had already drifted close. Quietly, I said, “Good luck, Jennifer.”
Once we had moved into the hallway, I stopped and said in a low voice. “What’s wrong with her?”
The administrator’s mouth thinned. “Her heart. She’s been on the transplant list for nearly a year without success. When the Jane Doe came in, we thought we had a miracle—they’re a blood match. Since Jennifer is now critical, we were able to arrange for her to be the recipient of the other woman’s heart. We had a helicopter standing by to transport Jennifer and the heart to another hospital that specializes in transplants.”
“I see.”
“Do you? Ethical issues continue to plague organ transplantation, and every time there’s a scandal like the one you’ve just uncovered, there’s renewed moral outrage. Donations
cease and people waiting for a life-saving organ die.”
“Rosa, I understand.” I placed a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll speak with the Cooks when they arrive. With your permission, I’ll introduce them to Jennifer. Ultimately, if the woman is Rachel, it’s their decision.”
The administrator let out a sigh. “Thank you. That’s all I can ask. The rest will be left in God’s hands.” She walked away. Behind me, the machines in Jennifer’s room beeped and whirred.
Satisfaction hummed in me as I pulled into my driveway and parked by Melissa’s sub-compact. Tragically, the Jane Doe had been the Cooks’ daughter. Although they had immediately identified her when they entered the room, the dental records they’d brought had been the clincher.
After allowing them privacy to be with their daughter, I had taken them to see Jennifer. Marvin had gripped his wife’s hand and they had looked at other. With tears in their eyes, they had agreed to the transplant. They would have all the time they needed to say goodbye to their daughter before she’d be taken off life support. By tomorrow if all went well, Jennifer would have a new heart and chance at life.
A good day—and hopefully, later, a good night with Sam. For the first time in a long while, I could see into my own future. When we’d initially dated, he had mentioned going away for a long weekend, but I’d shot him down, panicked by the idea of being a couple. Now I was ready for the next step.
I walked up the front path and opened the door. “I’m—”
Hard metal pressed into the back of my head. “It’s about time you got home, bitch.” The hate-filled voice chilled me.
Mom. Melissa. Were they all right? Earlier Melissa had mentioned taking my mother on a walk around the block. I prayed they hadn’t returned.
A beefy, tattooed hand seized my arm and spun me around. I plastered a thin, arrogant smile on my face. “Jordan, when did you get out?”
Rage contorted the face of Tommy Jordan, Trevor’s father. “This morning, no thanks to you.”
Courting Death Page 17
