Page 17 of So Bleak

The elevator opened, and Michael let the subject drop. Faith led the two of them down the cold concrete corridor toward the autopsy room where Dr. Spencer awaited them. Four of the rooms were in use between the elevator and room six. Faith kept her eyes stoically ahead, refusing to glance through the windows at the bodies being dissected within. The Marine Corps had given her a strong stomach even before she joined the FBI, but seeing people get picked apart like science projects wasn’t something she cared to witness right now.

She walked into autopsy room six to see Harold Grimes on Dr. Spencer’s table. Her heart sank. She’d have to witness this after all.

Dr. Spencer was a sturdy woman in her late forties with strong features and a solid build. She shook the agents’ hands and nodded professionally at Turk before saying, “Well, they were definitely poisoned. I assume that’s what you came here to ask.”

“We were hoping you could tell us a little more detail,” Faith asked.

Dr. Spencer sighed. “That’s the kicker. We know it’s poison, but we don’t know what kind of poison. It’s a sodium channel blocker, but that could be anything from tetrodotoxin to heart medicine. Some beta receptor antagonists have sodium channel blockade properties. The problem is that what we took out of their blood doesn’t look like any of that. I mean, it looks like it, but not the same. You can tell it’s a car, but it’s not any model you’ve ever seen before. Kind of like that.”

“Is the poison the same between both victims?”

“The poison is the same, but both victims also experienced complications that seem unrelated to sodium channel blocker poisoning. Harold here had a severe allergic reaction.”

“To what?”

“I don’t know. I assume the poison or some component of it, but if so, then this is, to my knowledge, the first time anyone’s exhibited an allergic reaction to this class of chemical.”

“Could it be the food?” Faith asked.

Doctor Spencer shook her head, “They didn’t both have allergic reactions. Harold did. Eleanor suffered coronary irregularities. Same poison. Different results. That’s why it’s difficult to get a handle on it. The lab is going to take some time, too.”

“We have the authority to put a rush on it,” Faith said.

“I respect that, but it doesn’t matter. The mayor couldn’t make it happen faster. The governor couldn’t. God Himself could step in here and put a rush on it and…”

“We get it,” Michael said sharply.

Spencer didn’t seem affected by his correction. Years of experience dealing with law enforcement gave her a thick skin. Faith decided she liked her. “What else can you tell us?”

“Not much, I’m afraid. Neither of these deaths were ‘clean.’ The other complications they suffered at the same moment as the poison make things really difficult. In both cases, their adrenaline and norepinephrine levels spiked, and that muddies a lot of things up when you’re trying to isolate a unique poison.”

“Could that be an effect of the poison?” Michael asked. “The increased epinephrine levels?”

Spencer smiled slightly. “Could be. Or it could be the body’s natural response to a heart attack and a severe allergic reaction. I’m leaning toward the latter primarily because Harold’s histamine levels were significantly elevated while Eleanor’s were baseline.”

“So it’s unrelated,” Faith surmised.

Spencer sighed. “That’s the kicker. I’m leaning toward unrelated, but it could be related. We really won’t know until we know the exact formula of the poison.”

“So we’re back to waiting on the lab,” Michael said.

“As far as an answer on the poison goes? Yes, I’m afraid so.”

Faith pursed her lips and nodded. “Thank you for your time, Doctor. Please call us if you learn anything else.”

“I will.” She smiled at Turk. “Maybe your good boy will sniff something out.”

Turk barked professionally, and the doctor laughed. "Good dogs. I had a Malinois when I was in my twenties. They’re pretty similar to German Shepherds. Great working dogs, really goofy when they’re not working.”

Faith smiled. "That's Turk, all right."

Spencer gave Turk another smile, then said, “Good luck, agents. I hope you find this guy soon.”

“Us too.”

The three of them left the coroner’s office. Michael wore the dark frown he always wore when confronted with a dead end, but he avoided his usual grumpiness, probably recalling his exhortation to Faith not to be pessimistic. “I’m thinking we get dinner from Sammie’s and eat it at the office so we can brainstorm. What do you think?”

Faith frowned. She had been avoiding the office as much as possible over the past four months with the West trial making her even more of a celebrity than she already was. She wouldn’t be able to think with all the other agents staring and whispering.

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