Chapter 2 - The Child on the Steel Table
Owen Mercer had worked around death for eleven years.
He knew what bodies did.
He knew the settling of blood beneath skin, the stiffening of muscles, the clouding of eyes, the slow surrender of warmth. He knew the small sounds that sometimes escaped lungs when a body was moved. He knew how grief could make relatives imagine breathing where there was none.
But tears did not form in the eyes of the dead.
Owen leaned closer.
The little girl’s face was almost colorless beneath the preparation room lights. A hospital identification band circled her wrist, though the printed letters had been smeared by moisture.
CHLOE WHITMORE.
AGE 7.
He placed two fingers against the side of her neck.
Nothing.
He adjusted his position.
Still nothing.
Then, beneath his fingertips, he felt the faintest flutter.
One beat.
A long pause.
Another.
Owen stepped backward.
“What the hell?”
He reached for the emergency telephone.
Before he could lift the receiver, the preparation room door opened.
Victoria Vale entered wearing a cream-colored coat and dark glasses.
Behind her stood Dr. Adrian Keller.
Owen recognized the name from the release papers. Keller was listed as the attending physician who had confirmed Chloe’s death.
“You’re not permitted down here,” Owen said.
Victoria removed her glasses.
“We came to make sure everything is being handled correctly.”
Owen looked from her to Keller.
“The child has a pulse.”
Neither reacted.
That frightened him more than denial would have.
Dr. Keller closed the door.
“You’re mistaken.”
“I’ve been doing this for eleven years.”
“And I have been practicing medicine for twenty-two.”
Owen stepped toward the wall phone.
“She needs an ambulance.”
Keller moved between him and the telephone.
“What she is experiencing is a rare postmortem muscular response.”
“A muscular response does not create a pulse.”
Victoria glanced at Chloe.
“She was declared dead.”
“Then someone made a mistake.”
“No mistake was made,” Keller said.
Owen stared at him.
The doctor’s voice was calm, but a muscle twitched beneath his left eye.
Owen reached into his pocket for his mobile phone.
Victoria spoke quietly.
“You have a daughter, don’t you?”
His hand stopped.
“What did you say?”
“Lily. She attends Briarwood Primary School.”
Owen felt the room grow colder.
Victoria walked closer.
“Single father. Mortgage overdue. Your wife left three years ago. You cannot afford to lose this job.”
“How do you know anything about my family?”
“Because the Vale Foundation owns this funeral home.”
Owen looked toward the door.
The new owner’s name had been hidden behind a holding company.
Victoria reached into her handbag and removed an envelope.
She placed it on the metal counter.
“There are twenty thousand dollars inside.”
Owen did not touch it.
“What are you asking me to do?”
“Prepare the child for a closed-casket service.”
“She’s alive.”
“She is suffering from a terminal condition.”
“You expect me to bury her?”
Dr. Keller picked up the envelope and pressed it into Owen’s chest.
“You are not qualified to question a medical death certificate.”
Owen let the envelope fall to the floor.
“I’m qualified to know murder when I see it.”
Victoria’s expression changed.
The warmth disappeared from her eyes.
“Be careful.”
Owen reached around Keller and seized the telephone receiver.
The doctor grabbed his wrist.
They struggled.
The receiver struck the wall.
Chloe’s hand moved.
All three adults froze.
Her fingers curled weakly against the steel table.
Owen shoved Keller aside.
“She’s waking up.”
Victoria opened her handbag again.
This time she removed a small brown bottle and a syringe.
Owen stared at it.
“No.”
Keller moved quickly.
He caught Owen around the shoulders and slammed him against a cabinet. Glass jars fell and shattered across the floor.
Victoria approached Chloe.
Owen fought to free himself.
“Don’t touch her!”
Victoria filled the syringe from the bottle.
Chloe’s eyelids fluttered.
“Daddy?” she whispered.
Victoria’s mouth tightened.
“Your father isn’t here.”
Chloe tried to raise her head.
When she saw the syringe, fear sharpened her expression.
“No medicine.”
“It will help you sleep.”
“No!”
Chloe rolled sideways.
Victoria caught her arm.
Owen drove his elbow into Keller’s ribs and broke free. He reached Victoria just as she pressed the needle against Chloe’s skin.
He knocked the syringe from her hand.
It hit the floor and slid beneath the table.
Victoria slapped him.
“You idiot!”
Owen lifted Chloe from the steel surface. She felt frighteningly light.
“I’m taking her to a hospital.”
Keller blocked the door.
“You won’t make it out of the building.”
Owen looked around.
There was a secondary passage at the rear of the preparation room used to move equipment into the cremation area.
He ran toward it with Chloe in his arms.
Keller followed.
Owen kicked open the rear door, entered the narrow service corridor, and found himself facing two security guards.
Victoria had planned for resistance.
One guard seized Chloe.
Owen struck him in the jaw, but the second guard drove a fist into Owen’s stomach. He collapsed to his knees.
Chloe screamed.
The first guard pulled her away.
“Grandma!” she cried. “I want Grandma!”
Victoria stepped into the corridor.
“You should have taken the money.”
Owen tried to stand.
A guard kicked him in the ribs.
Victoria crouched beside him.
“Now you are going to sign a statement saying you became confused and emotionally unstable after imagining signs of life in a deceased child.”
Owen spat blood onto the floor.
“And if I don’t?”
“Your daughter will walk home from school alone tomorrow.”
Owen’s face went still.
Victoria smiled.
“That is what I thought.”
Keller lifted Chloe and carried her back toward the preparation room.
The child’s eyes found Owen’s.
“Please,” she whispered.
He could not save her.
Not then.
But as Victoria’s guards dragged him toward the office, Owen saw the syringe lying beneath the table.
He also saw Chloe’s hospital band on the floor.
He stretched his fingers toward it as he passed and closed it inside his fist.
An hour later, Owen signed Victoria’s statement.
Then he went home, locked every door, sat beside his sleeping daughter until midnight, and made a telephone call from a prepaid phone.
He did not call the police.
Victoria claimed to own police officers, doctors, judges, and reporters.
May you like
Instead, Owen called the only person whose name Chloe had repeated before they sedated her again.
Eleanor Whitmore.
