The Body Thief

by Chris Taylor

  He shook his head in disbelief. “All of a sudden, every corner of my universe exploded with bright, bold colors. Everywhere I looked, there was excitement, fun and laughter. Until that moment, I hadn’t even realized how dull and boring my life had become. You’ve given me that, Samantha. You’ve given me a brighter life.”

  The distrust in her eyes gradually gave way to confusion and he wished in desperation that he could say the words he really wanted to say. The best thing to do would be to walk away from her, at least until after what transpired tomorrow was done. Then she could decide if he was worth the effort, worth her love, or if her loyalty to her brother would win out.

  “What are you trying to say, Rohan?”

  He cursed beneath his breath. She wasn’t going to make this easy. He drew in a deep breath, intent on satisfying her with another vague promise.

  “I love you, Samantha.” The words fell out of his mouth and there was no way he could take them back. The confusion on her face was replaced with shock—and then wonder filled her eyes.

  “You… You love me?” she whispered.

  He nodded and died a thousand deaths. It should have been the most wonderful moment of his life, but all he felt was apprehension. His anxiety compounded when she threw herself against him and slung her arms around his neck. She kissed him on the mouth, the nose, the ears, the eyes. It was like she couldn’t get enough. All the while, she was laughing and almost crying and telling him how much she loved him, too.

  There was no tomorrow. Only now. With a heavy heart, he determined then and there to forget, at least for this night, the pitfalls that lay ahead. Scooping her up in his arms, he walked down the hall to his bedroom and vowed to give her the most wonderful night of her life.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Rohan strode through the automatic front entry doors to the Sydney Harbour Hospital, his heavy thoughts centered on what lay ahead. Bryce kept pace with him, his expression similarly grim. They were on their way to interview the theater staff.

  Rohan had left Samantha still asleep in bed, explaining in a note that he had an early start and would talk to her when he could. The guilt of walking away from her without breathing a word still weighed heavily on his mind, but there was nothing he could do about it—then, or now.

  “Will Deborah Healy be present?” Bryce asked.

  “No. I wanted to interview each staff member in private. They’re more likely to be upfront with us that way.”

  “Yeah, let’s hope we get what we need.”

  Rohan didn’t reply and they walked the rest of the way in silence. Two levels up, they found the empty clinic rooms they’d been promised. The makeshift interview rooms had been furnished simply, with a desk and two chairs. A large blank legal pad and a pen and a jug of water and two glasses had also been provided.

  “I have a list of the names of all of the staff who were rostered on in the operating room over the relevant time period,” Rohan said. “I’ve divided it in half.” He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and used the desk to lean on. Tearing the paper down the middle, he handed one half to Bryce. “Here’s your half.”

  “No problem.” Bryce stepped out into the corridor and looked around. “Where are they?”

  “There’s a room a little further down the hall. The GM assured me the staff would be waiting there.”

  Bryce nodded. “Let’s do it.”

  He strode in the direction of the waiting room. Rohan drew in a deep breath. Squaring his shoulders, he looked at the first name on his list. Swallowing a sigh, and setting his jaw, he followed.

  * * *

  Sam tucked her handbag beneath her desk and then leaned forward to switch on her computer. Despite the fact she was at work on a Saturday after agreeing to switch a shift with a colleague, and no doubt had a full list of autopsies ahead of her, she couldn’t keep the smile off her face.

  Last night, after Rohan told her he loved her they’d had the most magical night of her life. For the first time ever, she felt like they were truly making love. The tenderness with which he’d treated her, the love she felt in his every touch—it was like nothing she’d ever known and she knew the memory of it would stay with her for the rest of her life.

  She was in love and was loved in return! How wonderful was that? Life didn’t get any sweeter. She wanted to shout her happiness from the rooftops and tell anyone who stood still long enough to hear. At the thought of telling her mom, she giggled and blushed like a teenager. Her mom would be ecstatic. Planning the details of her daughter’s wedding was an experience Enid hadn’t been sure she’d ever live to see.

  Sam smiled a little ruefully at the way her imagination had run away with itself. Rohan had only just made his declaration of love. It was a far cry from a proposal. She had no idea how he felt about marriage, about kids—about anything. She had a lot to discover; they had a lot to work through, but knowing they could do it together, with love and respect, was all she needed to know.

  A brief knock on her half-open office door snagged her attention and she looked up in time to see Richard enter the room. She frowned momentarily, but then smiled in greeting. “What are you doing here? I didn’t realize you were on call this weekend.”

  Richard didn’t respond. Sam took in his appearance and her smile slowly faded. He was pale and trembling, and it looked as if he were trying not to break down. Concern surged through her and fear clutched at her heart.

  “What is it, Richard? What’s wrong?”

  “Oh, Sam! You haven’t heard?”

  “Heard what?”

  “Dreadful. Just dreadful. I can’t believe it.”

  “Believe what, Richard?” Panic edged her voice. “What happened?”

  A sob escaped Richard’s lips and Sam lost her patience. Her tone was sharper than she intended when she pressed, “For goodness sake, Richard! Tell me what happened!”

  Her words had the desired effect. He stopped mid-sob and blinked. “Oh, Sam! It’s… It’s Phillip!”

  Icy dread took residence in Sam’s belly. Her heart took off at a gallop and she had to concentrate to hear over the sound of her blood as it rushed through her ears.

  “What about Phillip?” she said, amazed that she could sound so calm when inside she was a frenzy of panic.

  “He-he was in an accident. On his way home yesterday. Nobody really knows what happened. There was no other vehicle involved. The police are still examining the scene, trying to work out how his vehicle collided with a tree.”

  Sam sucked in a breath and worked hard to control her breathing. Just because Phillip had been in an accident didn’t mean he was seriously injured. Almost immediately, she corrected her thought process. Of course he was injured. Richard wouldn’t be a sniveling mess if their colleague had walked away unscathed. She forced herself to ask the question.

  “How… How is he?”

  Richard shook his head, as if he were struggling to form the words. “He’s… Sam… He’s dead.”

  Another bout of sobbing overwhelmed him, but she barely noticed. The noise in her ears escalated until it blocked out everything else. Phillip was dead. He’d been killed in a car accident. She’d never joke with him, laugh with him, argue with him again.

  He was dead. His wife had lost her husband. His daughters had lost their dad. On the night of Zoe’s graduation.

  Another thought struck Sam and she gasped aloud from the pain. It was all her fault! She’d sent him home early. She was the reason he’d been in his vehicle at that infinitesimal point in time. If he’d left at his usual time, he might have made it. He might even now be making coffee and moaning about the day ahead. There was no disputing it: She was the reason he was dead.

  “Where is he?” she asked in a voice so dull and lifeless she hardly recognized it.

  Richard hiccupped on another sob. “He’s here. In the fridge.”

  Sam drew in a breath, but it came out as a howl of pain. She collapsed onto her desk. With her head on her arms, she sobbed so
hard she didn’t know if she’d ever be able to stop. Phillip was dead and it was all her fault. The thought kept going round and round in her mind.

  Fresh pain overwhelmed her and she howled out her agony again. It wasn’t fair. A few minutes ago, she’d been on top of the world, her every molecule bursting with happiness. Now it felt like a cement block had taken up residence in her chest. Every breath was snatched through lungs so tight, she felt like she might suffocate. The very next breath might be her last and right at that moment, she’d welcome the relief.

  “Sam? Are you all right? Sam?”

  It was Richard. His tone was tentative, scared—as if he wasn’t sure how to approach her, or even if. She dragged in a deep breath and made a mammoth effort to pull herself together. She lifted her head. Her eyes were hot and swollen. No doubt she looked a mess. From the reaction on Richard’s face when he looked at her, it wasn’t far from the truth.

  “Why is he here?” she rasped. “Is there some question about how he died?”

  Richard fidgeted and looked away. Sam frowned. “What is it? Tell me what’s wrong? Why does Phillip require an autopsy?”

  “His insurance company wants to rule out suicide. They also want to know if there were drugs or alcohol involved. Apparently if they can prove contributory negligence it reduces their liability.”

  Sam shook her head, aghast. “Suicide? Drugs? You have to be kidding! We’re talking about Phillip! He was the cleanest-living man I knew! And as for suicide—the reason he left early was to attend his daughter’s college graduation! He was so proud of her. We talked about how he had plans to travel with his wife once their kids were off their hands. His plans weren’t those of a man on the brink of ending his life!”

  “You and I know him, Sam. It’s different for outsiders. All they know is he’s a client with a hefty life insurance policy and that life has just come to a very sudden and perhaps suspicious end.”

  Sam stared at the blank computer screen in front of her and tried to calm her scattered thoughts. Shock still rendered her largely immobile, but she couldn’t sit at her desk all day, reliving her last hours with her friend. She’d go absolutely stark raving mad if she did. Phillip was gone and there was no bringing him back. Death was final. She knew that better than most.

  “Who’s doing the PM?” she asked, her voice still dull.

  “I-I’m not sure. I haven’t yet spoken to the coroner.”

  “If it’s all right with him, I’ll do it.”

  “Sam, I don’t think that’s a good idea. You’re upset. You and Phillip were friends. I think—”

  “I want to do it, Richard. I want to do it for Phillip. It’s the least I can do. Please,” she begged.

  He frowned in indecision and moved from one foot to the other. At last, he sighed. “I’ll speak to the coroner. He’ll make the final decision.”

  She nodded. “Thank you.”

  “I’m not promising he’ll agree…”

  “It’s okay. I understand. Just do what you can.”

  He stared at her a moment longer and then quietly took his leave. Sam held her head in her hands and tried to come to terms with the fact her friend and colleague was dead.

  She wasn’t sure how long she sat at her desk, but the next thing she knew Richard appeared before her again and told her she had permission to conduct the autopsy on Phillip Bond. Having cried herself out long ago, Sam merely nodded.

  Richard disappeared from her field of vision and she took a moment to firm up her resolve. It would be her final farewell, a way she could say good-bye. Phillip had hated the thought of ending up in the Glebe Morgue. The least she could do was make it as quick and painless as possible—for both of them.

  Pushing away from her desk, Sam stood and made her way to the change rooms. Peeling off her clothes, she dressed in scrubs and headed over to the fridge. Bracing herself for what was to come, she located Phillip, lying in a blue plastic body bag on one of the shelves. She wheeled him to the autopsy suite, all the while speaking to him in low tones. It helped her to think he could hear her and he was aware of this final act of friendship.

  She removed the body bag and let out a little gasp because he lay as cold and lifeless as all the other bodies she dealt with every day. Forcing her brain into work mode, she prepared to conduct the PM.

  Picking up a scalpel, she moved closer to the body. Her gaze drifted over him and she frowned. A recent incision had been made from the top of his sternum to his groin. She stared at it in disbelief, refusing to accept what it meant.

  No! It couldn’t be! Phillip wasn’t an organ donor! He hated the very thought of it and so did his wife. Maree would never have given her consent. Sam recalled the conversation she’d had with him when he’d told her how strongly he and his wife were against it. They had their reasons and that was fine. Sam couldn’t even imagine what could have changed Maree’s mind.

  With a growing sense of dread, she reopened the incision and parted Phillip’s chest. With gloved fingers, she felt inside. She located his heart and sagged with relief and then explored a little more. His lungs were missing. Liver, kidneys and pancreas were also gone.

  A keening wail reverberated in her head and it was a long moment before she realized the sound was coming from her mouth. Clenching her jaw, she snatched quick breaths and did her best to get her panic under control. She pulled off her gloves and searched in the paperwork for the name of the doctor who had obtained the consent.

  Alistair’s name was printed in large, bold black letters right below the indecipherable signature of the next of kin. Sam stared at the form in shock and horror. Something was terribly, horribly wrong. She needed to find out what and who and how or she’d never have a moment’s peace again. She owed that to Phillip.

  Leaving Phillip on the table, she peeled off her mask and gloves and headed out of the autopsy suite. She rushed back to her office and dug out her phone from her handbag. Dialing her brother’s number, she prayed he’d answer.

  “Sam! How are you? Why are you calling me so early? I’ve barely finished my morning coffee.”

  He sounded so cheery, so normal. It was the antithesis to how she felt. If her growing suspicions were correct, she’d never feel normal again.

  “Alistair, I’m calling about Phillip! I’m here with him, in the morgue.”

  His tone immediately sobered. “Hell, I’m sorry, sis. He came in late yesterday afternoon. I should have called you, but I didn’t realize for a while that it was him. He was…a little messed up. There was blood everywhere.”

  “Who signed the consent?” she demanded.

  “The consent?”

  “Yes!” she shouted impatiently. “The organ donation consent! Which of Phillip’s relatives signed it?”

  “Um… I’m not sure.”

  “You were the one who witnessed the signature, Alistair. I assume you remember which family member you convinced to sign it.”

  She was met with silence. Her breath continued to come fast. The silence stretched and all at once, she had the most terrible sense of foreboding. It was so awful, it snatched her breath and tightened her chest with fear. Adrenaline flooded her bloodstream and she could barely hear over the sound of it rushing through her ears.

  “Oh, God! You didn’t obtain a consent, did you? You’ve forged a signature to make it appear that way.” Her tone turned deadly and her white-hot anger morphed into burning ice. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

  “Of course I didn’t!” Alistair blustered, but all of a sudden she knew with certainty that he wasn’t telling the truth.

  “Phillip was absolutely against organ donation and so was his wife,” she exclaimed. “We argued over it more than once. He was adamant. He’d cut open enough people over the course of his career, he didn’t want that for himself. But now he’s here, lying in the morgue, with most of his major organs gone. There’s no way you’ll convince me his next of kin overrode his wishes and signed that damned consent form.”

  “What do
you want me to say, Sam?” Alistair shouted, anger and irritation in his voice. “He came in unconscious, dead but for the life support. His next of kin gave the consent.”

  “Who?” she fired at him again, her hands clenched into fists.

  “I don’t know! His wife, I guess. I do this shit every day, Sam. Do you have any idea how many grieving relatives I speak to, trying to convince them to do the right thing? I can’t remember all of them.”

  “The right thing?” she managed, her voice strangled with disbelief. “For who? For you and me, maybe, but we believe in the benefits of organ donation. Many people don’t! Their rights need to be respected! It’s not up to you to decide, no matter how much you might think it is!”

  “Do you know how many transplants would occur in this country if I didn’t?” he yelled. “I’m the reason so many people have been given another chance at life. I might not be able to give Mom my kidney, but I’m going to die trying to find her one.”

  Sam gasped and doubled over as pain wracked her from head to toe. She wasn’t sure, but she thought her brother might have just admitted to fudging records to achieve his goal. There was no way she’d ever believe the consent had come from Maree.

  “You knew Phillip didn’t want to be an organ donor!” she sobbed. “We talked about it on my birthday, remember? You knew it and yet, you still went ahead! Please, Alistair,” she sobbed harder. “Please tell me you didn’t forge Maree’s signature?”

  It was a long moment later before he finally deigned to reply. “Wake up, Samantha. The world isn’t always such a nice place. We all do what we have to. It’s just the way it is.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Rohan looked at the nurse who sat across from him and prepared to pose the questions that he’d put to all the staff members he’d interviewed before her. The answers were beginning to sound monotonously the same. So far, he didn’t have anything of substance that pointed toward Doctor Alistair Wolfe’s guilt and the knowledge irritated him to hell. This nurse was the third last one on his list. He could only hope she’d offer him something useful. Clearing his throat, he asked the woman the standard opening questions: name; address, date of birth and then moved on.