Too Dark To Sleep

by Dianne Gallagher

  Harley nodded. “Sarah Dougall. Female. Caucasian. Age 22. Five foot, nine inches. 138 pounds.” After finishing all the cursory information, Harley got down to the meat. “Initial observation shows lateral incision from her jugular notch to just above her pubic bone. Ribs in the upper left quadrant are fractured.” Harley swung his magnifying light over the chest cavity. “Clean snap. Heart was removed. On initial examination, the remaining organs, her liver, spleen, kidneys, intestines appear to be intact.”

  After ten minutes, Dublowski was no longer looking at his clean, silver square of stainless steel. He watched everything Harley did, listened to every word. The difference between this and Monroe’s work was like the difference between Quinn and Halverson.

  Harley carefully studied the bruising around the neck. “Hey, Terry, could you get some measurements over here for me.” Terry was on it before Harley said another word. “Bruising on the neck indicates a left-hand dominant assailant.” Harley looked up at Maggie for a moment, then reached for the scalpel to make the first incision.

  Three and a half hours later, Harley, Maggie and Dublowski were out of the room as Terry wheeled Sarah Dougall back to the cooler.

  “So you got yourself a lefty,” Harley smiled. “And Phillips was?”

  “No one said.”

  “Right-handed,” Maggie interrupted. “In a couple of shots you could see the thumbnail bruise was on the right.”

  “How sure are you that he’s left-handed?” said Dublowski.

  “A hundred percent,” Harley said.

  Maggie shook her head. “Bruise patterns don’t hold up in court.”

  “Well, that’s the State’s problem. This guy’s a lefty.”

  “And no signs of struggle,” Maggie said.

  “Nothing on her arms, wrists. A couple superficial bruises on her face, but that’s not from a struggle. He smacked her around a little, but she didn’t fight back.”

  “Nails?” Maggie asked hopefully.

  “Clean. He knows what he’s doing.”

  “And no jewelry,” Maggie mumbled.

  “How about Phillips?”

  “Earrings, necklace, ankle bracelet and two rings,” Maggie replied.

  “Maybe he only took one piece,” Nick countered.

  “What? Her tiara?” Harley snickered. “Two killers and one of them’s your guy back for a return performance.”

  “Looks like it,” Maggie said.

  “You’ll have the report in the morning. Who knows how long on the fibers and blood. The lab got cut again courtesy of our fearless leader, so shit’s piling up. And I hear Bosco had to run a few special pieces.” Harley looked over at Maggie.

  “I wouldn’t know about that,” she said.

  Nick let out a long, slow sigh. He was already exhausted and had barely touched any of his other cases.

  “Why don’t you head home, Detective,” Maggie said.

  “I have some work to finish back at the office,” Dublowski said, shaking his head. The young man slumped out the door.

  “The first twenty-five years are the hardest,” Harley chuckled. “Your guy’s exercising a little more style. Cracked into her chest like a pro. Didn’t see that in Cramer or Rosenberg. He’s getting better.”

  “Yeah, he is.”

  “So you gonna get something to eat with me or what? I’m meeting people at eight. We’ve got time to grab something.”

  Maggie didn’t answer.

  “Come on,” the ME grinned. “I’m buying.”

  “So that means what? Taco Bell?” She chuckled.

  “Glad you’re back.” His face was soft, welcoming.

  Maggie checked her watch. Four thirty. The sun wasn’t down until a little after seven-thirty. “It’ll have to be quick.”

  Chapter Thirty

  “So is this finally a date?” Harley smiled as he looped Maggie’s arm around his.

  “Not quite that desperate yet,” she smirked.

  “Smart ass.”

  Maggie tried to breathe. They were heading through scaffolding. Could she pull Harley around it? No, they’d be walking out in the street. Maybe to the other side. Shit, no time. The flashlight was out of the question. Harley wasn’t stupid. He would know she was still broken.

  Maggie focused on the pools of light dotting the sidewalk. Dark. Two steps. Light. Three steps. Dark. Two steps. It was like puddle jumping. Get through the dark as quickly as possible. Stay in the light as long as she could. She could feel claws dig in, then release when the sun hit her. And that’s what she focused on. The light. No matter what happened, there was always the light to save her.

  Rayney didn’t sound good when she gave him the news. He tried to talk to Harley, but Maggie ran interference. The one thing she didn’t need was Ed Harley fussing over her. Make it to the next light. Dark. Two steps. Light. Three steps. Dark. Two steps. Light.

  “You okay?” Harley noticed her fingers digging deeper into his arm.

  “Yeah,” Maggie said. “New shoes.” She reached down and tugged at the back of the loafers. The dark tried to slither up her sleeve, but Maggie pulled her arm into the light. One more block and the scaffolding ended. Nothing between her and the restaurant except warm sunshine.

  They got a table near a window. Maggie could keep track of time that way. Harley pulled out a chair for her.

  “It’s been a while.”

  “Yeah.” Maggie smiled, tugging at her sleeves. There was a wide silence that needed to be broken quickly.

  “This place has good ribs.”

  Ribs. For a moment, the image of Sarah Dougall on the block flashed through Maggie’s mind. No, not ribs.

  “So who are you meeting?”

  “Huh?”

  “At eight, who are you meeting?”

  “Just a bunch of guys.”

  “Sounds pretty exciting.”

  Harley laughed. “A bunch of the MEs and a few doctors from around. We get together once or twice a month. Blow off a little steam.”

  “MEs and doctors. Must get pretty wild.”

  “Yeah,” he smiled. “A few drinks and the scalpels come out.”

  Maggie watched the window. The sun was still hanging high.

  “Actually we do these teaching gigs around town. Brings in a little extra dough.” Harley chomped some peanuts from the table. “I tell you, I should’ve stuck with the live ones. Make a shitload more money.”

  The waitress took their orders. Beer and ribs for Harley. Soda water and Caesar salad for Maggie. Harley chattered, updating Maggie on who was doing what to whom in Area One. Then he talked about his house, the one that always seemed to need something major repaired. Then about his nieces and nephews. His sister who was as needy as the ME’s house. Then Harley talked about was really on his mind.

  “How are you doing?” he said, trying not to sound too concerned. “You okay or am I going to have to ride shotgun for a while?” He nudged her with his elbow. “Not that I would mind.”

  Maggie raised her eyes to his. That’s the only way he would believe her, if he could see her face. “I’m okay.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Seriously.”

  Silence.

  “Okay. Just checking.” Harley smiled and took a long drink of the beer the waitress brought.

  “So how’d you meet these guys?” Maggie asked.

  “Through U of I. A little professional development. Do some lecturing, mentoring. A few of the doctors do classroom duty,” he said. “It’s kinda fun. Young, eager students willing to learn from the experienced masters.”

  Maggie sipped her water. “Meet any chicks?”

  “Maybe.”

  “You dog.”

  “An experienced master dog,” Harley
grinned.

  Maggie checked the window again. She would go to the bathroom halfway through dinner, call Rayney and have him wait outside for her. The food finally came. Good thing. It was harder to talk when your mouth was full.

  “So what do you think?” Harley asked, ripping the meat off the bones.

  “Phillips’ killer. He’s going to be crashing soon.”

  “Or end up in a psych ward.” Harley blushed. “Sorry.”

  “You’re right. He won’t stay functional long.”

  “Let’s hope.”

  “Yeah.” She sat back for a moment. “Kind of funny though. Manual strangulation.”

  “Not real popular around these parts.” Harley licked the sauce off his fingers. “We stick with the basics. Guns, knives and clubs. So you got two different guys doing just about the same thing. In the same Area. Seems a little…”

  “Coincidental. Yeah,” Maggie paused, then raised her finger to the ME. “Don’t even say the word.”

  “Did you hear me say anything?” he said innocently. “I said nothing.”

  “No, but you were thinking it.” Copycats were like serial killers. Very trendy, very much in vogue, but very rare. “Bottom line is they’re not the same. Not the same trigger. Not the same victims. Someone was pissed at Phillips.”

  “Old boyfriend?”

  “Which one. Dublowski’s trying to follow the trail. But, for such a popular girl, no one seems to remember her.” Maggie paused. “He doesn’t worry me. I’m betting Phillips is his one and only. But the other guy, he’s trouble.”

  “Rosenberg and Cramer weren’t beaten.”

  “I don’t think my man wanted to beat Dougall.”

  “What? It offended his sensibilities?”

  Maggie just raised an eyebrow. Harley should be able to figure it out.

  “He’s covering his ass?” the ME finally said. “Doesn’t make sense.”

  “Doesn’t it? If you’re clever and confident and want to take a few risks, it makes a whole lot of sense.”

  “Pin everything on Phillips’ killer?” Harley said, chewing a rib. “That’s bold.”

  “That’s my man. And that’s what scares me.”

  “I would’ve loved to take a closer look at Phillips. What a mess. And I don’t just mean the killing. Monroe and Halverson. Who was dispatching that day?”

  “Not a lot of voters over in those parts,” Maggie smiled. “So why use the A-team?”

  “Fucking politics.”

  Maggie popped some lettuce into her mouth. “Tierney needs the Feds. Real money, real resources.”

  “Right, no Fed is stepping foot in Cook County. Not before November.”

  “Dr. Harley.” The voice was syrup. Maggie looked behind her and saw a tall man, very well-dressed in Ermengildo Zegna, one of Richard’s favorite designers. The whole outfit cost more than the average cop’s paycheck. Maggie imagined most women would find the man attractive… in a high-maintenance sort of way.

  Harley was on his feet, extending an arm. “Marcus. Shit, is it that time already?”

  “No, no. I just thought I’d drop in early to catch a bite. Surgery went a little long today.” The man’s eyes settled on Maggie. A Dublowski smile, but better. The man made it look perfectly unplanned. “And who do I have the pleasure of meeting?”

  “Maggie Quinn.” Harley was quick to answer. “Maggie, Marcus Galen. Surgeon. One of the guys I meet with.”

  Marcus Galen had his hand out, ready for a warm welcome. Maggie just looked at him and nodded.

  “Dr. Galen,” she said. No smile was tacked to her words.

  There was an uncomfortable silence. He wants to join us, she thought. If he didn’t, he would just tell Maggie how nice it was to meet her and move on.

  “Why don’t you sit down?” Harley said.

  “I don’t want to intrude.”

  Yes, you do. Maggie speared a piece of lettuce. That’s what doctors did. They intruded.

  “Come on. Sit down.”

  Galen smiled. “All right. If you don’t mind.”

  Maggie did mind, but it wouldn’t improve matters if she stomped her feet and cried. So, instead, she ignored Marcus Galen as he pulled a seat close to her. Maggie could smell his cologne. Creed Vetiver. Also a favorite of her ex-husband. The scent washed over her.

  The wedding. She wasn’t quite sure why that day flashed in her mind. She wanted the ceremony simple. Richard wanted a bash. Her side of the church was filled with cops. His with relatives and lawyers. Lots of lawyers.

  In her simple ivory dress, Maggie leaned in, placed the rose on Richard’s collar. She pricked her finger as the pin pushed through the fabric. A small drop of blood fell from her hand onto the dress. It was so small no one could see it. No one, but Maggie. She never forgot blood. Its location. Its size. Its nature. Part of the job. Richard lowered his head and kissed her finger, her cheek, her lips as Maggie inhaled the smell of Creed. Blood and the smell of Richard’s cologne.

  And that’s what nudged her brain now.

  “Are you Detective Maggie Quinn?” Galen’s voice broke the memory.

  “I was.” Something in those soft, brown eyes held her. Or maybe it was the smile. A smile everyone liked so much they did whatever was necessary to make it appear again and again.

  “And now who are you?” Marcus Galen chuckled.

  “No one in particular.”

  If Harley didn’t know Maggie so well, he would’ve missed the small flash of pain. “Maggie’s helping out on a couple of cases.”

  “Really?” Galen asked. “That girl who was found in the warehouse?”

  Maggie’s silence chilled the air around the table.

  “It’s okay,” Harley said. “Marcus can keep his mouth shut.”

  “Maggie, you can be sure that anything you say stays with me. Discretion is part of my job.” Galen raised a hand and like magic, a waitress was at his side, ready to serve.

  “The salmon, please. And a salad. Oil and vinegar.” Galen punctuated his order with a warm smile. “Thank you, Amy.”

  So smooth, Maggie thought, he didn’t even pause as he checked out the woman’s name tag. The most amazing thing was the chick bought it.

  “What, no scotch?” Harley teased. “Going dry tonight?”

  “No, it’s just a little early,” Marcus said warmly. “So do you have any theories? About this homicide?”

  “The CPD doesn’t hold public forums on open cases.” Maggie spoke before Harley could.

  “I understand. Discretion, remember.” He paused. “You must have some ideas.”

  “Ideas aren’t a problem, evidence is.” Harley bit his tongue as soon as last word left his mouth.

  “No evidence?” Galen looked concerned. “That’s not good.”

  That’s not real, Maggie thought. The doctor’s concern was well manufactured. “There’s always evidence,” she said casually. “So, what kind of surgeon are you, Doctor?”

  “Cardiac.”

  Harley squirmed as the silence hung around their table.

  “Must be challenging,” Maggie finally said.

  “Not really. I know it must sound funny, but you do it for a while and, well, it’s almost mundane. I actually enjoy the teaching more.”

  Ego, Maggie thought. Like all doctors. Thinly veiled, but clearly there. “You work at U of I?”

  “Actually, I’ve worked for St. Andrew for the last two and half years. Before that I was over at Christ where I did some fascinating work with MIDCAB. Really a very promising field.”

  He’s not telling us what the letters mean, so we have to ask. So he can answer and be the teacher, be in charge. Fucking arrogant. Well, Maggie wasn’t biting.

  After a moment, Marcus Galen conti
nued. “Then I spent a year doing EVH work at St. James.”

  “Endoscopic Vein Harvesting,” Maggie nodded.

  “I’m impressed,” the doctor cooed.

  “Don’t be.” Maggie poked at her salad. “Sounds like you don’t stay put?”

  “When I find the right place, I do.” There was the slightest edge of heat to his voice. Harley didn’t notice it, but Maggie did. “Cardiac surgery is a competitive field, Maggie. Not many hospitals have the staff or resources to support the talent some surgeons bring to the table.”

  The dark twined around Maggie’s feet, nibbling at her ankles and sinking into her calves. She pulled her legs out into the light and casually crossed them.

  “And not retaining skilled teams, well, that’s an issue for me. If any one of the dozens of individuals involved with a case fails, the whole team suffers. Unfortunately, it’s usually the surgeon who takes the blame. Even though it’s often not his fault,” Marcus said, enjoying his lecture. “A scrub nurse fumbles. An attending physician makes a mistake in the files, doesn’t spot something, doesn’t record something.”

  “A surgeon slips,” Maggie said, feeling sweat rise on the back of her neck.

  “Some make mistakes at the table,” Galen said smoothly.

  The waitress gently placed the fish and salad in front of Galen. She smiled. Fast and friendly. Obviously, the woman wanted to please. “If you need anything else, just let me know.”

  “Thank you…” Galen started to turn ever so slightly so he could see the woman’s name tag again.

  “Amy,” Maggie finished.

  The surgeon’s skin flushed.

  “You’re welcome,” the woman responded and disappeared.

  Galen tried to smile.

  “Wouldn’t want you to strain your neck trying to get a look at that name tag,” Maggie said. “Might affect your surgical skills.”

  “Well, you finally got caught, Marcus. Maggie doesn’t miss anything.” Harley laughed. “And we always thought he just knew all the waitresses in town by name.”