Resuscitation

by D. M. Annechino

  “Now call the mayor, write the letter, and get on with your life.”

  Anxious, overtired, yet surprisingly energized, Sami arrived at the main precinct at seven thirty. No longer having a valid parking permit, she had to park in a visitor’s spot. She felt a rush of awkwardness when she walked into the precinct, as if she were the only foreigner among a roomful of locals. She quick-scanned the room, looking for a familiar face, but she saw no one she recognized.

  On her way to the captain’s office, she passed her old desk, now occupied by rookie detective Richard Osbourn. Al had talked about the kid a few times, saying that he had real potential. She noticed a photograph in an eight-by-ten frame sitting on the desk. Richard stood with his arm around an attractive blond, and two young girls sat in front of them. His family, no doubt.

  She was about to knock on Captain Davidson’s door, when a familiar voice—one she found most irritating—called her name. She turned and saw Chuck D’Angelo, veteran detective, vulgar chauvinist, hustling toward her, trying hard not to spill his coffee. More overweight than she remembered, but still a victim of his wardrobe, D’Angelo reached out and shook her hand, pumping her arm as if he were purging a well.

  “Sami Rizzo,” D’Angelo said. “How the hell are you?”

  Of all the homicide investigators she had worked with over the years, D’Angelo was the last person she wanted to see. “Hangin’ tough. I hear you’re turning in your key to the executive washroom.”

  “Thirty years of this bullshit is quite enough. I bought a small ranch up in Montana. Me and the wife are going to live the easy life.”

  I pity your wife. “Good for you, Chuck.” Sami wondered how he could possibly afford a ranch in Montana on detective wages. Then again, he wasn’t the cleanest cop.

  “So, Sami, I guess the rumor is true.”

  “No, Chuck, I’m not pregnant.”

  D’Angelo let out a hearty guffaw. “Are you really coming back for another go at it?”

  “Looks that way. Meeting with the captain in a few minutes.”

  D’Angelo shook his head. “We’ve got a real nut-job on our hands. A fucking psycho.”

  “That’s what I’ve heard.”

  “Is it true that you’re going to head the investigation?” His eyes narrowed and she wasn’t surprised he was fishing.

  “Haven’t a clue what the captain has in mind.”

  “Well, if you’re lead on this case and need a solid partner, I’m not the least bit interested. I’m on cruise control for the next two months and have no desire to track down a fucking wacko.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind, Chuck.” From what I remember, you’ve been on cruise control for years. “Anyone in the department you would recommend—assuming of course I—”

  “This new kid, Osbourn, is sharp as a tack. He’s gonna be a good one if he hangs in there. I hear that his wife ain’t too happy with him working in homicide.”

  “Thanks for the info.” She glanced at her watch. “I really have to get moving, Chuck. Nice to see you.” It pained her to be so cordial.

  He nodded. “By the way. Is Al still in Rio?”

  “Looks like he’s going to be there for a while.”

  “Tough break. His sister going to make it?”

  “It’s a day-to-day thing.” She could see his expression completely change. So much so, that she expected devil horns to sprout on his head.

  “Who’s keeping your bed warm in Al’s absence?”

  She wanted to kick him square in the nuts. “An electric blanket and my favorite vibrator.”

  “Well, if you ever—”

  “If you were the only man in the universe, Chuck, I’d be a lesbian. Have a lovely day.” She turned her back and knocked on Davidson’s door.

  Julian had just finished breakfast and was heading out the door for two early-morning surgeries when his cell phone rang with a ringtone he really didn’t want to hear. He thought about letting it go to voice mail, but eventually she’d track him down.

  “Mornin’, Nicole,” Julian said, trying to be as amiable as possible. “It’s good to hear your voice. How are you and the kids doing?”

  “Kids are okay, but I’m not so good.”

  “It’s my fault.”

  “No it’s not. I’m such a spoiled bitch.”

  Yeah, you are. He let her comment slide by.

  “I miss you,” she said.

  This is not what he wanted to hear. He didn’t want her to miss him.

  “I’m coming home, but the kids want to stay here with my parents for a while. You okay with that?”

  No, he was anything but okay with Nicole coming home. Besides, he needed a few more days to search for subject number five. “Why don’t you take a few days and veg-out. Take the kids to Disneyland—”

  “Sounds like you don’t want me to come home.”

  “Nicole, how can you say that? You’ve already made the trip up there. Why not enjoy the time with your parents? I’ve got a crazy week at the hospital.”

  “I’m getting a strange vibe from you.”

  His plan to have some time for himself was slowly crumbling. “Look, I really have to get to the hospital. I’ll call you later this morning, right after my surgeries, and we can talk.”

  “Don’t bother. I’ll be there when you get home.”

  Feeling like a suspect ready to be interrogated by three angry detectives, Sami sat in front of Captain Davidson, Police Chief Larson, and a young woman she’d never met. The office still reeked of stale cigarette smoke, supporting her notion that the captain’s addiction to nicotine had reached new heights.

  “Well, Sami,” Police Chief Larson said, “I can’t tell you how pleased I am to have you back on board.” He pointed to the young woman and then to Sami. “Have you two met?”

  The two ladies shook their heads in harmony.

  “Sami Rizzo, this is Medical Examiner, Doctor Maggie Fox.”

  Sami stood and grasped the medical examiner’s hand, thinking that this woman was barely old enough to drink alcohol, let alone be an ME. “Nice to meet you, Doctor Fox.”

  “I’ve heard some great things about you,” Maggie said.

  “Hopefully, some of what you heard is true.”

  After a moment of lightheartedness, the mood in the room shifted to the serious matter at hand.

  “The purpose of this meeting,” Larson said, “is to bring you up to speed on the investigation. Thus far, there are four victims, all murdered with certain similarities. However, with each new victim, our guy gets more diabolical.”

  Police Chief Larson paused for a minute, his head lowered as if he were studying the pattern in the carpeting. “Doctor Fox, why don’t you share the autopsy results with Detective Rizzo.”

  Detective Rizzo? Sami had to admit to herself that she loved the sound of her restored title.

  “Victims one and two pretty much have the same wounds,” Maggie said. “The perp split their sternums right down the middle with surgical precision and it appears that their ribs were spread open as if they had undergone open heart surgery. In fact, their incisions were stapled shut meticulously. Whoever committed this atrocity knew what they were doing.” Maggie opened a manila folder and studied the autopsy reports. “The Foster girl died of a massive stroke, and Connor Stevens died of cardiac arrest. However, there’s more.”

  Sami listened carefully.

  “Our perp got a little more aggressive with victims three and four.”

  “In what way?” Sami asked.

  “Well, unlike with the Foster girl and Connor Stevens, he wasn’t satisfied with operating only on their hearts.”

  “What do you mean?” Sami asked.

  “All of their major organs were dissected. Liver. Kidneys. Pancreas. And lungs.”

  “Any idea why?”

  “I don’t have the slightest clue,” Maggie said.

  Sami tried to process Maggie’s words. “What else can you tell me?”

  “Cause of deat
h is still a mystery. Unlike the first two victims, our perp performed several different surgical procedures on their hearts.”

  “What kind of surgical procedures?” Sami asked.

  “All I can tell you for sure, Detective, is that I discovered identical scar tissue on the left and right atria of both hearts.”

  “The upper chambers of the heart?” Sami asked.

  “Exactly,” Maggie said. “And it seemed that these were caused by some kind of heat source. Microwave. Laser. Or perhaps a high-energy ultrasound.”

  “It appears,” Larson said, “that our perp likes to play doctor.”

  “Our best guess,” Captain Davidson said, “is that this lunatic definitely has advanced medical training.”

  Sami sat stone-still for a minute, stunned at this theory, trying to absorb the concept that any human walking the planet could be so evil. But then again, there was Simon. “Tell me something, Maggie. Do you have any idea why our guy would perform this particular kind of surgery?”

  “Good question. I had never seen bruised tissue like this before, so I did a little research and discovered that the area of the heart scarred by the procedure plays a role in regulating sinus rhythm.”

  “But what’s the motive?” Sami asked.

  “Therein lies the mystery,” Maggie said.

  “So maybe we need to consult a cardiothoracic surgeon to find out if there is any medical significance to the area of the heart in question.”

  “Already in the works, Sami,” Larson said. “I happen to be good friends with Doctor Templeton, chief of cardiothoracic surgery at Saint Michael’s Hospital. Perhaps you’ve heard of him.”

  “Heard of him?” Sami said. “He performed my mother’s bypass surgery.”

  “Small world,” Larson said. “He’s meeting with Doctor Fox tomorrow morning to examine victims three and four. He’s the best, so hopefully he’ll be able to fill in the blanks.”

  “There’s more,” Maggie said. “Unlike with the first three victims, who were not sexually assaulted, I found traces of semen in the fourth victim’s vagina, rectum, and mouth. And the killer wasn’t gentle.”

  “Have you submitted samples to the FBI’s DNA Index System?”

  “No matches.”

  Sami felt her hopes nosedive. She noticed Maggie’s expression change.

  “Victim number three must have really pissed off our perp.”

  “Why?”

  “Because the victim’s tonsils were ripped out of his throat.”

  Sami had to take a few deep breaths before continuing. “Ripped?”

  “Like with pliers,” Maggie said. “Which is really strange because every other procedure was performed with surgical precision.”

  Sami gathered her thoughts for a minute. “Let me see if I’m clear on this. Victim one died of a massive stroke, and victim two of cardiac arrest, correct?”

  Maggie nodded.

  “Cause of death for victims three and four is unclear, but the procedures he performed on their hearts were more complicated?”

  “That’s right,” Maggie said.

  “And our guy performed additional surgical procedures on the major organs of victims three and four. And he literally ripped out victim number three’s tonsils? Do I have these facts straight?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Everyone in the room seemed absorbed in their private thoughts.

  “Thank you, Doctor Fox,” Police Chief Larson said, breaking the silence. “We’ll take it from here.”

  Maggie gathered her things and headed for the door. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Detective Rizzo. If you need any further feedback, feel free to contact me.” Maggie handed Sami a business card. “Call me day or night.”

  “Thanks.”

  The moment the door closed, Police Chief Larson stood and leaned against the file cabinet, arms folded across his chest, eyes on Sami. “See what you’ve gotten yourself into?”

  Quite to her surprise, nothing she had heard in this meeting made her second-guess the decision to rejoin the police department. In fact, she couldn’t wait to roll up her sleeves and dig in. Perhaps, she thought, even though Simon had gotten the best of her, the little trip to Pelican Bay State Prison hadn’t been crazy after all. She felt a renewed enthusiasm.

  “What else do we have?” Sami asked.

  “We have a few solid leads.” Davidson pointed to the folder in Sami’s hand. “Al interviewed the victim’s roommate, but she couldn’t tell us much more than the perp was tall, dark, and handsome, and apparently he’s a football fan ’cause he wore a Chargers cap.”

  “Terrific,” Sami said. “That ought to narrow the field down to about a hundred thousand possible suspects.”

  “Well, Detective Rizzo,” Larson said, “you’ve got a good place to start. On that note, we need to talk about who’s riding shotgun for you. Any preferences?”

  “Who are my choices?”

  “You’ve got your pick of the lot,” Larson assured her, reinforcing the mayor’s promise to Sami. “Then again, there are a couple of new faces out there. So, if you need our help, the captain and I would be more than happy to offer some feedback.”

  “I’ve heard good things about this Osbourn kid,” Sami said. She had placed more faith in what Al had told her about the young detective and pretty much dismissed D’Angelo’s endorsement.

  “He’s a crackerjack all right,” Davidson said. “But wouldn’t you want someone with more experience?”

  Yes, she thought. There’s nothing I would enjoy more than partnering with a veteran asshole like D’Angelo. “Let me have a little chat with the kid and I’ll get back to you.”

  An awkward silence ensued. The three of them exchanged glances but nobody uttered a sound. They seemed to be playing some kind of childhood game and the first one to talk loses.

  “Can I speak freely?” Larson said.

  “Of course, Chief.”

  “My nuts are really in a vice on this one. The mayor is calling me five times a day. The press is having a field day, and the members of City Council are camping on my doorstep. San Diego hadn’t seen a serial killer in decades and suddenly we’re dealing with the second one in a little over two years. As police chief, it’s my responsibility to keep San Diegans safe. At this particular moment, few people think I’m doing my job. I hate to lay this bullshit on you, but you’ve got to track down this fucker before he kills again.” Larson walked toward Sami, bent forward, and fixed his stare on her. “You’ve got carte blanche. Anything you want. Anything you need. The entire department is at your disposal. Just find this fucking prick.”

  Like a man waiting for the results of a biopsy, Julian paced the floors, impatiently anticipating Nicole’s return from Los Angeles. Angry and frustrated at his wife for sabotaging his plan and returning home much sooner than he had hoped for, he could feel the blood throbbing in his temples. A woman with an acutely suspicious nature, Nicole would force a conversation about the cabin Julian supposedly tried to buy in Big Bear. Cunning in the fine art of spousal debate, she would likely pose pointed questions that Julian was not fully prepared to answer. Questions to trap him. Having been married for over ten years, he felt certain that her attack would be thorough and strategic. He tried to anticipate what she might ask, hoping to compose a carefully thought-out script, but he found it impossible to focus his thoughts. All he could think about was when he would have the opportunity to perform his research on another subject. And of course, thoughts of what he had done to Rachael hung in the back of his mind.

  Nicole’s premature return also interfered with Julian’s task to dispose of Beer-Man’s vehicle. It sat in the underground garage below his loft, and he still wasn’t sure how to get rid of it. It was a loose end he needed to take care of immediately. Fortunately, it was tucked away in a dark corner, so he doubted anyone would notice it.

  About to grab a cold beer from the refrigerator, he heard a tire squeal. He poked his fingers through the wooden blinds and looked
out the window. His wife’s silver Range Rover sat in the driveway.

  In an effort to reduce the possibility for conflict, Julian dashed out the door and greeted Nicole with a firm hug, hoping his gesture might temper another clash. “Welcome back, Sweetheart. It’s so good to see you.”

  “Can you grab my luggage, please.” Her voice was cold as dry ice. She followed him into the living room.

  “How was traffic?” Julian asked, hoping to keep the conversation benign.

  “It was nuts getting out of LA, but once I hit the San Diego freeway, I got in the left lane and didn’t once touch the brake pedal.”

  “Girls okay?”

  “They’re fine. They love staying with my parents.”

  “Want something cold to drink or a little snack?”

  “No, I’m good.” She plopped down on the leather sofa. “But I would like a couple of Advils. My head is pounding.”

  “Sure thing.”

  Nicole swallowed the medication and drank the entire glass of water.

  “My parents are moving back to San Diego,” Nicole said, her abrupt announcement blindsiding Julian. “In fact, they’re working with a real estate agent right now, looking for a home in La Jolla.”

  He felt as if a bomb exploded inside his head. Her statement caught him completely off guard. When she had said, “We have to talk,” he was sure she wanted to discuss the Big Bear incident. Never in his wildest dreams did he expect such a consequential bit of news. “But I thought your parents loved living in Santa Clarita.”

  “They do. But they love Isabel, Lorena, and me more. Even though I take the kids up there a couple times a month, it’s just not enough for them.”

  Except for a SWAT team breaking down the front door with a battering ram and arresting him for murder, Julian didn’t think anything could possibly be worse than Nicole’s announcement. “How soon is this going to happen?”

  “They already accepted an offer on their home. They just need to find a place here.”

  With that statement—a stake driven through his heart—Julian watched all of his dreams and expectations evaporate before his eyes. If this were to actually happen, unless he could find small windows of time for his research, having his family there all the time would clip his wings forever.