Blindsight

The “pit,” as it was lovingly called, was a medium-sized room about fifty feet long and thirty feet wide. At one time it had been considered state of the art, but no longer. Like so many other city agencies, its much-needed upkeep and modernization had suffered from lack of funds. The eight stainless steel tables were old and stained from countless postmortems. Old-fashioned spring-loaded scales hung over each table. A series of sinks, countertops, X-ray view boxes, ancient glass-fronted cabinets, and exposed piping lined the walls. There were no windows.

Only one table was in use: the second from the end, to Laurie’s right. As the door closed behind Laurie all three gowned, masked, and hooded doctors grouped around the table raised their heads to stare at her for a moment before returning to their grisly task. Stretched out on the table was the ivory-colored, nude body of a teenage girl. She was illuminated by a single bank of blue-white fluorescent bulbs directly overhead. The lurid scene was made worse by the sucking noise of water swirling down a drain at the foot of the table.

Laurie felt a strong intuition she should turn around and leave, but she fought the feeling. Instead she advanced on the group. Knowing the people as well as she did, she recognized each despite their coverings, which included goggles as well as masks. Bingham was on the opposite side of the table, facing Laurie. He was a stocky man of short stature with thick features and a bulbous nose.

“Goddamn it, Paul!” Bingham snapped. “Is this the first time you’ve done a neck dissection? I’ve got a news conference scheduled and you’re mucking around like a first-year medical student. Give me that scalpel!” Bingham snatched the instrument from Paul’s hand, then bent over the body. A ray of light glinted off the stainless steel cutting edge.

Laurie stepped up to the table. She was to Paul’s right. Sensing her presence, he turned his head, and for an instant their eyes met. Laurie could tell he was already distraught. She tried to project some support with her gaze, but Paul averted his head. Laurie glanced at the morgue tech who avoided looking her way. The atmosphere was explosive.

Lowering her eyes, Laurie watched what Bingham was doing. The patient’s neck had been opened with a somewhat outdated incision that ran from the point of the chin to the top of the breastbone. The skin had been flayed and spread to the side like opening a high-necked blouse. Bingham was in the process of freeing the muscles from around the thyroid cartilage and the hyoid bone. Laurie could see evidence of premortal trauma with hemorrhage into the tissues.

“What I still don’t understand,” Bingham snapped without looking up from his labors, “is why you didn’t bag the hands at the scene? Could you please tell me that?”

Laurie’s eyes again met Paul’s. She knew instantly that he had no excuse. She wished she could have helped him, but she didn’t see how she could. Sharing her colleague’s discomfort, Laurie stepped away from the table. Despite having made the effort to get dressed to observe, Laurie left the autopsy room. There was just too much tension to make it worth staying. She didn’t want to make the situation any worse for Paul by giving Bingham more of an audience.

Returning back upstairs after peeling off her outer layer of protective clothing, Laurie sat down at her desk and got to work. The first order of business was to complete what she could on the three autopsies that she’d done on Sunday. The first of the cases had been the twelve-year-old boy. The second case was clearly a heroin overdose, but she reviewed the facts. Drug paraphernalia had been found with the victim. The victim had been a known heroin addict. At autopsy his arms had showed multiple sites of intravenous injection, old and new. On his right upper arm he’d had a tattoo: “Born to Lose.” Internally he’d shown the usual signs of asphyxial death with a frothy pulmonary edema. Despite the fact that laboratory and microscopic studies were still pending, Laurie felt comfortable with her conclusion that the cause of death was drug overdose and the manner of death was accidental.

The third case was far from clear. A twenty-four-year-old woman flight attendant had been discovered at home in a bathrobe, having apparently collapsed in the hallway outside her bathroom. She’d been found by her roommate. She’d been healthy and had returned home from a trip to Los Angeles the previous day. She was not known to be a drug user.

Laurie had done the autopsy but had found nothing. All her findings were completely normal. Concerned about the case, Laurie had one of the medical investigators locate the woman’s gynecologist. Laurie had spoken with the man and had been assured the woman had been entirely healthy. He’d seen her last only months before.