by Scott Young
Dr. Miller looked at him as if seeing him for the first time. She looked around perplexed before she retreated to the other side of the counter and quickly put on her lab coat. She wrapped it tightly around her, holding the collar together with her left hand in an attempt to cover herself completely. The hematologist used the remote control to shut off the music and turn up the lights. She was unable to look at Mancini for long minutes as their eyes readjusted to the luminance. When her gaze finally turned toward him, she looked petrified.
“I...I can’t...I don’t...I’m terribly sorry, Detective,” she said, mortified. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me lately. Perhaps I’m coming down with a touch of the flu or something. I haven’t been feeling myself at all.”
“It’s all right,” Jeff replied, unconvincingly. “Should I step outside to give you a moment to compose yourself?”
Without meaning to, Rebecca smiled at the detective. His chivalrous gesture not only impressed her, but also made her feel once more at ease in his presence. “No, no,” she said, quietly. “What I have to tell you is far too important to waste time with my bizarre behavior or subsequent embarrassment.”
“All right. What new information do you have?” Mancini asked, hoping a return to business would help her regain her bearings.
Dr. Miller picked up her tablet and began filling the computer screens with her analysis. With each stroke of the keypad she seemed to regain her center, transforming back into the highly competent and resourceful scientist he knew her to be. Once all necessary information was ready, she gave Jeff a furtive glance before quickly looking back at the tablet.
“The in-depth analysis provided some very interesting results,” she began, once more slipping into her dispassionate, ultra-technical manner. “Once I broke down the blood catalyst I discovered it was most likely biological in nature.”
“You mean a biological weapon, like anthrax?” Mancini said, his voice rising.
“No, not at all,” the hematologist countered. “The catalyst is more like a natural occurring secretion, like insulin or epinephrine, hormones and enzymes that help regulate various functions in the body.”
“In whose body? Emily’s? I don’t understand, Doctor,” Jeff said.
“No. I’m not explaining this properly. I apologize, detective,” Dr. Miller said with a sigh. “It’s more like what happens when snake venom is introduced into the blood stream. For example, when one drop of viper venom is introduced into human blood it acts as a super coagulate, instantly clotting the blood. This catalyst acts in exactly the opposite manner. It breaks up the red blood cells and affects both the platelets and the bone marrow, totally inhibiting the natural replenishment of the cells. In effect, this catalyst is a super-blood thinner or anti-coagulant.”
“And you’re saying it comes from some kind of animal or reptile?” Mancini asked.
“That’s the troublesome part. In all my years, I’ve never come across any naturally occurring enzyme, hormone or secretion that behaves as this catalyst does. It’s a complete mystery,” she said with a frown. “There is a chance it’s an artificially manufactured agent, but due to the various biological markers within the catalyst, the likelihood of that is remote. All I can say with certainty is that it was introduced into Mrs. Sheppard’s bloodstream minutes before her death.”
Jeff shook his head and grimaced. “The more I find out about this case, the more questions pop up. And none of them make any damn sense.”
“I’m sorry, Jeff,” Rebecca said, causing him to lock eyes with her again. She quickly turned away from his gaze before adding, “With this single-sample analysis, I’m afraid I can’t even speculate where it came from. Perhaps if there was another sample to compare it against, I could isolate and discov –”
“That’s it!” Mancini yelled. “Ava’s DNA sample. If they’re connected, then it stands to reason she’d have the catalyst in her system too!” He rushed over to Dr. Miller and hugged her tightly, causing the hematologist to stiffen awkwardly.
“Uh...what are you talking about, Detective?” she asked.
Jeff released her immediately and moved away. “I’m sorry. I got carried away. It’s just that I think I know a way to get you another sample to compare your findings.”
He smiled and she smiled back, neither knowing what to say or do next. They stood there, 5 feet from each other, but seemingly miles apart. Finally, Dr. Miller said, “Well, I should get back to work. I want to apologize again for my behavior, Detective Mancini. Honestly, I couldn’t be more embarrassed. What you must think of me,” she said looking down at the ground.
“What I think is...” Jeff started to say as his phone chimed, alerting him to an incoming text message. He quickly looked at the message, “911” from dispatch, which meant he needed to call in immediately. “What I...um...think...” he stumbled.
“Yes, Jeff?” Rebecca said, looking up at him with those sparkling blue eyes of hers.
“I think you’re a remarkable woman and you have nothing to be embarrassed about...Rebecca,” Mancini said earnestly.
“Thank you,” she replied with a heartfelt smile.
“I’ve got to run but I’ll be seeing you soon. Thanks for all your great work, Doc,” Jeff said. He waved and walked quickly to the door.
Once the doors closed behind him, Rebecca Miller broke into a wide smile again and whispered to herself, I hope I see you very soon, Jeff, before hitting the remote control for the stereo. She took off her lab coat and let her body sway seductively to the beginning strains of Madonna’s “Erotica” as she lost herself once more in the rhythm of the music.
Thirty-seven minutes later, Detective Jeff Mancini pulled up to Queen of Angels Church in Sunnyside, Queens. After leaving Gene-Tech, he’d been informed by the dispatcher, a lovely woman named Arlene Wisniewski, about an incident involving Kurt Sheppard. As he jogged toward the main steps, the officer out front directed him to the Annex building next door. There were a few officers outside the annex taking statements from witnesses. The board in front of the building listed the daily schedule for the many outreach programs associated with the church. Today at 11 a.m., there had been a Loss and Grief Group Counseling meeting in Annex Room C. Upon entering the building, Mancini saw his partner Crawley, in front of that room talking to a short woman in her mid to late 50s.
Crawly excused himself to the woman, crossed over to Mancini with his arms out in front of him, palms up, as he said in a low voice, “God damn that Arlene! I told her not to have you come down here. I wanted to spare you this.”
“Spare me what exactly? What’s going on?” Mancini asked as he tried to see around his partner into Annex Room C.
“It’s about your friend, Kurt Sheppard,” Crawley said softly. “From all accounts, he went a little berserk during a group counseling session.”
“Berserk? What does that mean? Is he okay?” Jeff asked urgently. “Where is he?”
“Yeah, he’s okay. I mean, as good as he gets these days, I guess,” Crawley said, awkwardly. “From all accounts he went after the woman in charge before some of the other members stepped in to stop him. After I got here, I put him in the rectory, hoping it would calm him down. He’s been in there about 10 minutes.”
Jeff pushed past Crawley, heading for the rectory, but his partner grabbed his arm. Mancini turned, face full of fury, snarling, “Get your fucking hands off me, buddy, before I...”
“Whoa! Whoa! Hold on there, partner! I’m only trying to help!” Crawley cut him off, pulling Jeff near the wall and lowering his voice so no one else could hear. “What’s wrong with you? That man has a lot of pent up grief and resentment right now and most of it’s directed at you. I’m not saying it’s right or it’s wrong, but you gotta leave him be for a while. Let him work through it.”
Mancini angrily looked into Crawley’s eyes and saw only the face of a friend, a man trying to help. It seemed so contrary to his partner’s behavior over the past few days; he didn’t know what to believe a
nymore. As the dam of walled-off emotions threatened to break inside him once more, Jeff could no longer hold his tongue.
He grabbed Crawley by the shoulders and shook him. “I want to know what’s going on with you, Kevin!” he screamed. “Why did Mulvaney tell you to obstruct my investigation into Emily’s death?”
“You overheard me and Cap?” Crawley said with embarrassment. “Damn, that wasn’t supposed to happen.”
“Why not?! What the hell are you two hatching?” Mancini asked, his voice fraught with emotion. “Why are you sneaking around and plotting with that morgue assistant and why, for God’s sake, after all we’ve been through, are you working against me?”
“Against you?” Crawley yelled back, pushing Jeff away. “Is that what you think?”
“What the hell am I supposed to think, Kevin?” Jeff retorted.
“You’re supposed to think you have people, a whole hell of a lot of people, who care about you!” Crawley extorted. “Captain Mulvaney didn’t want you going off the deep end so he asked me to look out for you! Everyone can see you’re pushing yourself too damn hard! You’re obsessed. You’re not sleeping, barely eating so he ordered me to help you because he didn’t want you dealing with shit like this. You know, something like when your best friend goes mental, gets himself into a mess of trouble and needs a helping hand? Something that might send you to a bad place mentally? Cap wanted me to take point so you wouldn’t have to! Because we all know how badly you’re hurting, Jeff. Even if you can’t admit it to yourself.”
Crawley began to pace back and forth, getting more and more agitated as he talked. Finally, he turned to face Mancini. “This Lone Ranger act of yours is getting old, damn it. I’m your partner! And more importantly, I’m your friend, Jeff! If you can’t count on me, if you don’t trust me, what the fuck am I here for? You’re not in this alone! The entire department is behind you! We all want to help, so let us! For the love of God, let us.”
Detective Jeff Mancini stood motionless during his partner’s tirade, his face twisted with a combination of rage, grief and sorrow. Now he stepped toward Crawley who began to back away, leery of the argument escalating into a fist fight. Instead, Jeff hugged his partner without a word, feeling a huge weight leaving his shoulders. Crawley wrapped his arms around Mancini and patted him on the back a few times for emphasis. Mancini felt slightly dizzy, struggling not to cry on his partner’s shoulder, to lose control once again.
Crawley said softly in Jeff’s ear, “As far as me and Maggie goes, I – I – well, I think I love her, man.”
Mancini immediately broke the hug and looked at his partner with a big smile. He grabbed Kevin’s face in his hands and said, “You? In love? No fuckin’ way.”
Crawley looked down, embarrassed and said, “Yeah, I know, right? Who’d a thunk it, but she is so great; so awesome. I can’t stop thinking about her.”
“That’s great, Kev. Really great. Happy for you, dude,” Mancini said, the distance that had been between them gone. “And thanks for setting me straight. It all makes sense now. I guess the lack of sleep was making me paranoid or something. I appreciate you and everyone else having my back.”
“That’s what I’m here for, partner,” Crawley responded. “Now let’s go see how Kurt is doing and then we’ll catch this bastard together.” He smiled his trademark smirk.
When the two officers got to the rectory, it was empty. Kurt Sheppard was gone. They continued through the building into the nave of the church, hoping he’d wandered in there for some reason, perhaps to pray. The rector priest, Father Thomas, was standing by the altar and turned when Mancini and Crawley walked in.
“Are you looking for that poor, lost soul who was in here, officers?” the clergyman asked.
“Yes, Father,” Jeff answered. “His name is Kurt Sheppard. Do you know where he is?”
“Why, yes. He was praying in the first pew, seeking counsel with The Lord I imagine, when Mrs. Vazquez came in to sit with him,” the priest said. “They spoke for a bit and left together a few moments ago.”
“Mrs. Vazquez?” Jeff asked incredulously. “Do you mean Yolanda Vazquez?”
“Yes, do you know her?” Father Thomas said. “A lovely woman. She’s been running our grief counseling program for the past few weeks. Very good turnout. People seem to really like her. I hope she can bring some comfort to Mr. Sheppard.”
“I do too, Father,” Mancini said. “Thank you. We appreciate your help. If we need anything else, we’ll be in touch. Have a blessed day.” The two detectives walked down the aisle toward the exit of the church. “I take it you’ve read the CSU report since I saw you last?” he whispered to Crawley.
“Yeah, it’s weird, right? Ava Vazquez is somehow linked to Emily’s death and now her mom is reaching out to Kurt? What do you make of it?” Crawley whispered back.
“We both stopped believing in coincidences a long time ago. At least, as they pertain to murder investigations. Something is going on here.” They opened the doors and walked out into the sunlight. “We need to find Kurt right now. I’ve got a bad feeling about all this.”
“You and me both, partner,” Crawley agreed.
Mancini and Crawley coordinated and briefed all the other police officers at the church about Kurt. Despite it not being an official police emergency, the brotherhood of blue was more than happy to help out their comrades in arms. Crawley called in a BOLO to alert all units in the vicinity and Jeff supplied a picture from happier times he kept on his cell phone. Then the two partners began their own search, starting at the Vazquez home. No one was home. Yolanda’s neighbors admitted they hadn’t seen her for a few days. They searched for Kurt Sheppard all afternoon, stopping at all his usual haunts: his home, Cooper’s Ale House, Brian’s Tavern and any other place that occurred to either of them. They came up empty. No one had seen him.
Having exhausted any and all ideas, and with nowhere else to go, the two detectives were sitting on the steps outside the Sheppard home as the sun set in the west. They’d bought some dinner from a local Chinese restaurant and two cold beers from the bodega on the corner. Mancini and Crawley sat there eating, talking, and trying to take their minds off this bitch of a case. A half hour later, both their phones suddenly went off simultaneously, which they knew from bitter experience was never a good sign. A quick call to dispatch told them to return to the precinct immediately and they were off like a shot. They rode in silence, each trying to shake the feeling that something terrible had just happened. Upon arriving, Caroline Mooney met them outside the building. She had a look on her face Mancini had only seen twice before in his life.
The first time was during his first month on the job when he assisted at a burning building in the South Bronx. The building couldn’t be saved so he saw dozens of families watch their entire lives go up in flames, the looks on their faces indelibly etched in his mind. The second time he saw that face was just a few days ago when he accompanied Kurt to identify Emily’s body in the morgue. It was a look of total despair, of loss so profound the mind couldn’t cope with the emotion of it all. Caroline Mooney now wore that visage.
“What’s the matter, Caroline? What happened?” Mancini asked, his genuine concern for this woman all over his face.
“I – I – She’s gone, Jeff. I’m so sorry,” Mooney replied. “I don’t know how this happened.” Tears welled up in her eyes.
“Who’s gone?” Crawley asked before his partner could.
“Emily,” Caroline said, barely audible. “Her body. It’s gone.”
“No! Oh God, No! How?!” Jeff screamed as he ran into the precinct, Crawley following closely behind. When they got to the morgue, they found Sasha Montgomery and the CSU techs searching for clues. Mancini stood in silence, his head spinning once more at this latest turn of events. Sasha turned to the two detectives.
“Gum, where’s Maggie? Is she okay?” Crawley frantically asked, cutting in front of Mancini.
“We don’t know,” Montgomery said. “She w
asn’t here when the theft was discovered. We’ve tried her cell but it goes right to voicemail. Either she’s missing or...”
“Or what? What? You think she did this? You think she could do something like this?” Crawley screamed. “No fucking way you pin this on Maggie! We need to find her! She could be in trouble or hurt or...or...oh, God, no. Please, no.” Crawley suddenly felt sick to his stomach.
“How could this happen, Sasha?” Mancini asked, his voice weak.
“We’re trying to figure that out, Jeff,” the sergeant replied. “There are no extraneous prints, particulates or evidence at all. Someone couldn’t just waltz into a police morgue and take a body without leaving a trace. We checked the surveillance video and it was...well, it was...honestly, I don’t know what it was. You’ll have to see it for yourself.”
Ten minutes later, Mancini, Crawley, Mooney and Montgomery were huddled around the desk of IT technician and police officer, Victor Nieves. He cued up the video from the morgue to the proper time and waited for the go-ahead.
“This is set up to begin about 5 minutes before it gets weird,” Nieves said nervously.
“Just show us,” Mancini said, irritated.
Nieves clicked his mouse and the video began. The surveillance cameras didn’t have audio so the five police officers watched in silence, the only sound filling the room their own staggered breathing. Maggie Brelan sat at her desk, working on her computer in the morgue alone when she was distracted by something. She reached into her pocket and retrieved her cell phone. After a conversation of no more than 20 seconds, she moved to the compartments where the dead bodies were stored and opened one. She removed the body of Emily Sheppard and, with the help of a gurney, moved it to the main autopsy table. She checked the upper torso for a few minutes, paying specific attention to the baseball stitching from the autopsy performed by Caroline Mooney three days ago.
“What is she doing, Mooney?” Crawley asked caustically. Nieves paused the playback.
“I’m sorry, Crawley, but I have no idea. There is absolutely no reason for her to be working on that body,” Caroline replied. “We were waiting for word from the family as to where the body would be sent: a funeral parlor or for cremation. That authorization would not have come to her cell phone.”
