Page 4 of Unnatural Death

Since moving back to Virginia three years ago, I’ve dropped off food to him before when his wife wasn’t doing well. But I had no idea her dementia had progressed this rapidly.

“Well, if you must know,” he says with a drawn-out sigh, “I’ve had to move Megan to a place in Fairfax.” He goes on to tell me the name of the memory care center and how long she’s been there. “It had been coming on for the last few years, as you know, Kay. But it’s taken a dramatic turn in recent months compounded by her having a stroke.”

“I’m very sorry.”

“She can’t walk or eat on her own and doesn’t know me anymore.”

“Not much is harder.”

“I go to visit every day. She thinks I work there.” His eyes are touched by tears for an instant.

“Biology can be cruel.”

“A couple of weeks ago Megan started wearing another patient’s wedding ring. She thinks she’s married to him. And has been all her life.” He clears his throat.

“Are you taking care of yourself, Henry?”

“You’re right, I could do better about eating.” He tugs the stretcher some more with uncharacteristic impatience.

“Here. Let me help you.”

I lean inside the open tailgate, and he’s managed to wedge a side-rail against the hearse’s faux suede headliner. He’s a shade away from ripping it.

“This is so gosh darn frustrating, excuse my salty language.” He moves out of the way, wiping his eyes. “But nothing’s more aggravating than getting somewhere and finding your equipment is undependable. That’s one thing I’ve never tolerated. As swamped as we’ve been, we’re down to the bottom of the barrel, using things that should be put out to pasture.”

“I know what you mean since almost everything we have is like that,” I tell him. “Including a lot of hand-me-downs from you, for which I’m always grateful.”

* * *

My bread and butter are the rejects from hospitals, funeral homes, rescue squads, and I’m not above begging. I’ll take packets of sutures, scalpels, obsolete x-ray and CT scanners, malfunctioning stretchers, power washers and shop vacuums, also computers and vehicles. Whatever someone wants to give us, we’re happy to accept.

“One of the side-rails is defective and won’t unlock.” I diagnose the problem as Henry gives me the once-over.

“You look like you’re going on a safari and reek of DEET,” he says as I help him lift out the stretcher. We set it down, straightening the legs to the height he wants. “I won’t ask what’s going on.” It’s his way of doing exactly that. “But you didn’t wait for me to get here because you’ve got nothing better to do.”

“Are you familiar with Buckingham Run?” I ask him.

“I’ve only driven past,” Henry answers. “A lot of mining went on there a long time ago as best I know, but I don’t believe it’s a place people visit. As I recall there are no-trespassing signs posted, that sort of thing. It’s quite foreboding when you drive past.”

“The cameras in here are off at the moment,” I tell him, and we’ve done this before. I turn off the CCTV inside the vehicle bay only, ensuring no one is monitoring us. “We have a situation, Henry.”

“I had a feeling when you said you needed to see me,” he says. “What can I do to be of assistance, Kay?”

“I’m directing two bodies your way if you’re willing. I’m afraid we’ve got something ugly brewing that’s just getting going. I’m warning you in advance that I don’t know how we’ll control fallout that could be considerable. The situation is of serious concern to the federal government. And there are other factors that will cause a public panic if we don’t handle these deaths with the utmost care and discretion.”

“Judging by what’s going on in your parking lot, I figured as much.” Henry stares out the open bay door at the helicopter and those gawking at it.

More people are trickling outside, gathering by the tall metal privacy fence. Topped by spikes, it serves as an ugly moat around my four-story building. Until a month ago, I shared it peacefully with the consolidated forensic labs, the anatomical division and Safe Kids, which tracks injuries in children. Then the governor created the Department of Emergency Prevention (DEP) for no good reason, literally.

Redundant and ridiculous, it’s a boondoggle if there ever was one. Elvin Reddy has been recycled as DEP’s first director. He’s now as powerful as ever, installed in a corner suite near the governor’s office in Richmond. His deputy chief in charge of operations, Maggie Cutbush, also has reappeared in my life with a vengeance. I didn’t see any of it coming when DEP took over most of my building’s top floor.

Many of its employees are gathered outside on the tarmac. I can imagine the negative and derisive comments made as they wait for Lucy and me to take off in the helicopter. Maggie and Elvin have poisoned the well, nobody working for them my fan or even civil.

“What do I need to know?” Henry asks me.

“Please be mindful there are far more questions than answers at this point. Lucy’s been flying investigators into Buckingham Run where the two victims were camping near the entrance of an abandoned gold mine. Apparently they’d set up a tent and had been living there for several months, basically since late summer.”

“That seems awfully strange,” Henry says. “Why the heck would anyone camp in such a godforsaken place?”

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