by Chris Taylor
“Yes, we knew each other years ago, back when Samantha was still in college. It must be ten years or more since we’ve seen each other, right?” His gaze snagged hers before moving lower. Without conscious thought, he paused at the swell of her generous cleavage where it peeked out from the opening in her shirt. She tensed under his perusal and fresh anger flared in her dark eyes. He cursed silently under his breath.
What the hell was he doing? It was obvious the woman had a gripe with him. What did it matter that he didn’t have a clue about what he’d done to put her off side? And why did he care, anyway? The odds were after today he’d never see her again.
Hannah appeared oblivious to the tension. “Wow, what a coincidence,” she said with a brief smile and turned to her friend. “It must be our lucky day. Sharing our concerns with someone who’s at least familiar to you will hopefully make things a little easier.”
Rohan suddenly recalled the women were supposed to be there to report something about illegal organ harvesting. With his gaze trained on the cute blonde, he said, “Follow me. We’ll go upstairs. We can talk in private up there.”
Turning his back on them, he re-entered his code into the security pad and then held the door open for the women. Samantha followed more slowly. As she passed through the doorway, she kept her head averted, as if unwilling to look him in the face.
Rohan caught a whiff of her perfume and ancient memories bombarded him from all sides. He was twenty-four again and had just made detective. To top it off, he was in love with the girl of his dreams. A girl who happened to be Samantha Wolfe’s roommate.
* * *
Samantha took a seat beside Hannah in the stark interview room and once again cursed under her breath. Of all the people to run into, it had to be a man she despised from her past. And Hannah thought it was a good thing that Sam could confide in a familiar face. Huh!
She couldn’t believe the irony. She’d agonized over her decision to accompany Hannah to the police station. It was only after her friend made it clear she was going to the police to report her suspicions with or without her, Sam had finally agreed to come along. At least if she were present, she might have a hope of downplaying Alistair’s role. She still refused to believe he might be involved in anything illegal, but as the head of the organ retrieval team, his name appeared on at least some of the paperwork and it was feasible the police might view him as a person of interest.
She had to admit, she was curious to hear Rohan’s take on the evidence, if one could call it that. A big part of her hoped he’d dismiss Hannah’s concerns as coincidence and then both of them could put it out of their minds. She wished she’d known being present for the interview meant she’d cross paths with Rohan Coleridge again. She might have seriously reconsidered.
He’d told the truth when he said they hadn’t seen each other since college. Sam was surprised he’d mentioned it at all. He must surely know Daphne had told Sam all about the baby and how Rohan had abandoned them. When Daphne broke down in tears one night and told her all about it, Sam had been so furious, she didn’t know if she’d ever feel calm again. It had been up to her to console her friend and reassure the devastated girl that she and her unborn child were better off without Rohan Coleridge, a low life who lacked the courage to face up to his responsibilities.
Daphne had left college right before the baby was due and had returned to her hometown in the country. Gradually, she and Sam had drifted apart. Sam had heard via mutual friends that Daphne had given birth to a little boy.
Sam might not have seen or heard from her roommate since college, but that didn’t mean she’d forgotten about her, or the unforgivable way she’d been treated. And now, a decade later, the cause of Sam’s angst sat across from her with nothing but a scarred, modest Formica table between them, looking calm and relaxed and way too good looking for any woman’s peace of mind.
He’d always been an attractive man. He might have been her former roommate’s boyfriend, but that didn’t mean Sam had been blind to his assets. Even back then, there were many. Tall and broad shouldered, his blond hair was sun bleached in summer and darkened to a tawny golden color in winter. It matched the color of his skin. Daphne had once told her Rohan had French heritage on his mother’s side. His eyes were bluer than the ocean on a bright and sunny day and right now, they contemplated her with a mixture of wariness, curiosity and confusion, as if he weren’t quite sure what to make of her prickly attitude.
Renewed anger surged through her at the thought that he was pretending not to know about the source of her antagonism. He couldn’t honestly believe Daphne wouldn’t tell her? They’d been roommates. Not even Rohan could believe Sam wouldn’t notice her friend’s pregnancy or the sudden absence of her boyfriend.
No, he must know. The fact that he once again chose to shrug off responsibility infuriated her. She wondered how long she’d be able to stay in the same room as the cad. Before she was able to consider the thought further, Rohan drew a notepad toward him and pulled a pen out of his crisp, tailored shirt pocket. He cleared his throat and directed his first question to Sam.
“The constable downstairs indicated you were here to report illegal harvesting of human organs. Is that correct?”
His gaze drilled into hers and without warning, her throat went tight with nerves. So in police matters, he could be direct. Fine. She could do direct. She licked her suddenly dry lips and cast around for a response that wouldn’t implicate her brother.
“Yes, that’s correct,” Hannah answered firmly.
Sam frowned and tried to make eye contact with her friend, but the girl either steadfastly refused to look at her or was unaware of Sam’s efforts. Sam couldn’t help but suspect it was the former.
“What makes you think that?” Rohan asked, this time speaking to Hannah.
Hannah finally glanced at Sam, but quickly looked away. “I work as an embalmer at the Max Grace Funeral Home in Balmain. Sam is a forensic pathologist at the Glebe Morgue. I’m sure you can appreciate that between the two of us, we come across a fair number of the deceased persons who resided in or around the inner city. Over the past couple of months, we’ve each noticed an unusual increase in both the number of bodies with donated organs and the volume of organs and tissue that have been removed.”
“You mean, bodies where the deceased has donated organs prior to their death?” Rohan asked, looking at Hannah.
“Yes,” Hannah replied.
“When you say an unusual increase, how many do you normally see?”
“Three or four donor bodies a week, on average with the majority of donors limiting their donation to two or three major organs,” Hannah said.
“And now?”
“More than double that,” Hannah replied.
“And what about you?” Rohan asked, directing his gaze at Sam.
She held his stare without flinching. “Usually one a week, if we’re lucky and like Hannah said, it’s normal practice for donors to put a limit on the number of organs donated.”
“I take it you’re an advocate for organ donation?” he asked dryly.
“Yes. Are you?”
Rohan appeared to consider her question and then replied, “I guess so. I haven’t given it a lot of thought.”
She compressed her lips in disapproval, even though she had no right to judge. Not everyone had a loved one in dire need of a transplant. Like Phillip, Rohan was entitled to his opinion. It was only fair she concede her personal circumstances had a great influence on her attitude toward organ donation.
“You should,” Sam managed between gritted teeth, still unable to let it go. “It’s important to give it consideration before it becomes an issue. You never know…”
Ignoring the tension in her voice, he nodded and gave her a wink. “You’re absolutely right, Doctor Wolfe. Of course, I don’t plan on keeling over any time soon, but as you say, you never know.”
He grinned and she felt it all the way down to her toes. Warmth coursed through her and
to her dismay, heat washed over her cheeks. She averted her gaze and silently cursed her body’s traitorous reaction.
The truth was, she reminded herself harshly, Rohan Coleridge was a coward. He’d turned his back on his pregnant girlfriend, abandoning her without a second thought. As far as Sam knew, he’d never taken responsibility for the child. Somewhere, there was a ten-year-old boy growing up without a father and it was all Rohan’s fault. She’d best remember it the next time she went all warm and gooey at the sight of his way-too-sexy grin.
As if finally sensing her disapproval, Rohan’s expression sobered. He cleared his throat. “Let’s get back to the reason you’re here. What makes you suspect illegal organ and tissue harvesting? It’s a very serious allegation. I assume there’s a protocol that’s followed when a person donates their organs?”
“Yes,” Sam answered, fighting to keep her voice on an even keel. “If a deceased person, who has made a request prior to their death—to have their organs and tissue donated—requires an autopsy, the treating doctor must first contact the coroner or one of his deputies and obtain authorization to carry out the recovery of the donated organs prior to the post mortem.”
“I assume the coroner or his deputy makes a decision based upon the likely cause of death? Whether or not there are suspicious circumstances, that kind of thing?” Rohan asked.
Sam held his gaze and nodded, feeling slightly less angry as she focused on their reason for being there. “Yes, all of those things are taken into account.”
“For example, if the doctors suspect Mary Jane has died from complications arising from brain surgery, I’m guessing the coroner would be okay about her donating her heart and kidneys. Would that be a fair assumption?” Rohan asked.
“Yes,” Sam replied.
Rohan made a few notes on the paper in front of him and then turned to Hannah. “And how does it work in the funeral homes? Is there a similar procedure in place?”
“Well, of course, there are protocols that are followed, but anyone coming directly from the hospital to the funeral home doesn’t need permission from the coroner for the donation to take place. The doctors obtain the necessary consents from the donor’s next of kin and the removal of the donated organs and tissue occurs while the patient is still in hospital. We don’t receive any notification or even any paperwork concerning the donation process and we don’t need to. The body is prepared for burial in the usual way.”
Rohan acknowledged her explanation with a nod. “I get how Samantha would be aware in her line of work that a body is minus a few organs, but how do you know?”
“It’s usually a matter of recognizing the signs that the body’s been operated on just prior to death. There’s no need to use keyhole surgery on someone who’s as good as dead. Depending upon which organs and tissues are being donated, the doctors cut across the abdomen or straight down the chest. It’s reasonable to assume when you come across those kinds of incisions on a body that the deceased has been an organ donor.”
“I see,” Rohan replied with the slightest shake of his head. “Fascinating.”
Sam bit down on her impatience. “Can we please get on with it? I have other things to do.”
Rohan looked up at her. “Of course, but it’s important for me to understand the basics before I can decide whether your suspicions warrant further investigation. Getting up close and personal with dead bodies might be an everyday occurrence for you ladies, but it’s something I am thankfully a whole lot less familiar with.”
“Afraid you wouldn’t have the stomach for it?” Sam smirked.
Rohan stared at her, his expression unreadable. “Absolutely. Quite frankly, I don’t know how either of you manage it. I admire your resilience and courage.”
“Someone has to do it,” Sam said in a dismissive manner, uncomfortable with his praise.
“I enjoy it,” Hannah said. “It’s more than just a job. It makes me sound weird, but it gives me pleasure and a wonderful sense of satisfaction knowing I’ve made someone’s journey into the afterlife a little more comfortable, not to mention a whole lot less smelly. Let’s face it, death can be a messy affair.”
She smiled with genuine humor and Sam was reminded what a wonderful person she was. Determined to finish what they’d come for, Sam straightened in her seat and spoke again.
“The fact is, both of us have noticed an unusual spike in the number of donor bodies and the volume of donated tissue. We’re not sure if it’s the result of the raised awareness about organ and tissue donation because of media coverage and the advertising campaign by the Sydney Harbour Hospital, or if there’s something sinister going on.”
Rohan kept his gaze on Sam. “What makes you think the latter?”
Sam closed her eyes briefly and drew in a deep breath. Easing it out, she cast around for the right words. “Apart from the fact we’re seeing at least double the usual number of affected bodies, we’ve noticed a few other anomalies.”
Rohan’s gaze didn’t waver. “Such as?”
“I autopsied a patient on the weekend who had all of the major organs in her abdomen and chest removed, which as you know, is unusual. But what concerned me even more was that the consent form for the organ donation wasn’t there with the patient’s notes.”
Rohan’s demeanor became more alert and he leaned forward in his chair. “You mean no consent was given for the organ harvesting?”
“No, Detective, that’s not what I’m saying. I don’t have a clue whether or not the consent was obtained. All I know is that the consent form was missing from the paperwork I received.”
“Has that happened before?” Rohan asked.
Sam retained eye contact. “Occasionally. We’re a busy place, Detective. We deal with two hundred or more bodies a week. Now and then, paperwork gets mislaid. But, I’ve never known something as important as a consent form to go missing.”
Rohan stared at her a moment longer before switching his attention to Hannah. “So, Ms Langdon, missing paperwork hasn’t been your concern. Why do you think there’s something suspicious going on?”
Hannah blew out her breath on a soft sigh. “Like Sam said, I’ve seen a huge increase in the number of bodies that’ve exhibited signs of having organs harvested. Obviously, I have no idea how many or which organs have been removed, but last week I came across something very strange.” She paused and Sam could tell she was remembering what had happened.
“Go on,” Rohan encouraged.
“This body not only had recent suture lines, there were also deep cuts across both wrists and ankles. It appeared the ligaments and tendons in all of the limbs were missing.”
Rohan’s eyebrows shot upward in surprise. “I take it that isn’t usual?”
“No, it’s not. In fact, in the five years since I’ve worked as an embalmer, I haven’t once come across wounds like that. And there was more.”
“More?” Rohan asked.
“Yes. When I turned the body over, I discovered large tracts of skin had been removed from the patient’s back and the back of the legs.” She shook her head. “It was very, very strange. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Rohan’s expression turned grim. Gone was even the slightest hint of humor. A frown line marred the smooth expanse of his forehead. As Sam waited for him to speak, she couldn’t stop the icy dread that slid stealthily into her stomach. At last, he looked up at them.
“You’re right. It does sound odd.”
Sam’s breath caught in her throat. Her heart pounded and blood rushed through her ears. She had to strain against that noise to hear what else Rohan had to say.
“A sudden increase in the number of donors and the volume of donated tissue, missing consent forms, highly unusual donations… I’m going to confer with my colleagues as soon as possible. This needs to be investigated further.” He looked at Sam. “I assume you’re able to identify which hospital the bodies have been transferred from?”
“Yes, of course, it’s on all of the paperwork.
”
“Including details of the treating doctors and the persons responsible for obtaining the consents?”
The dread inside Sam grew into a cold, hard lump, but she looked Rohan in the eye. “Yes.”
He turned to Hannah. “What about you? Are you aware of where the bodies were sent from?”
She nodded somberly. “Yes. We’re contacted by relatives of the deceased and then attend upon the relevant hospital to collect their loved one. That’s about the extent of the information we get, apart from the patients’ personal identification details.”
In silence, Rohan made a few more notations on the notepad, his lips compressed. “I’ll need your contact details,” he said, looking from one to the other. “Home address, work and cell phone numbers.”
Sam bit her lip and then forced herself to relax. It wouldn’t matter that Rohan Coleridge knew where she lived and how to get ahold of her. It was the fact he’d confirmed their suspicions that had her tense. Something strange was going on. The fact that it might involve her brother was something she didn’t want to contemplate.
* * *
Rohan took down their details and then slipped his pen back into his shirt pocket. Glancing at his watch, he noticed it was almost the end of his shift. He hadn’t heard any of his colleagues return from the raid and could only assume they were still caught up in that drama. Not that it mattered. The information Samantha and Hannah had relayed to him was disturbing, but didn’t require urgent attention. It could wait until the regular briefing held prior to the next shift.
He pushed back his chair and opened the door to the interview room. The women followed him into the corridor and back to the stairwell. When they reached the bottom, he entered his security code and opened the door before turning back to face them.
“Thank you for coming forward with this. I’m sure you didn’t do it lightly.”
Hannah nodded. “It’s kept me awake for some time now, that’s for sure.”
“Well, I appreciate your courage. You’ve done the right thing. I’ll be in touch.” He indicated for them to precede him. Hannah brushed past and gave him a brief smile of farewell. Sam went to follow behind her.
