Wednesday, November 7, 2018

Cry From The Grave (Chapter 3)

Cry From The Grave
Chapter 3

     The photographer thanked them for their patience and made for the door, eager to get his film scanned before the office closed. The small crowd milled around the conference room, gutted of all standing furniture except for one rectangular table, which held an assortment of snacks and a cooler of lemonade. It wasn't a fancy spread but, given the last-minute choice of having a reception, it was the best that could be done.
     Scotty Bosco, lieutenant at the St. Charles Police Detective Bureau, slapped Evan Holbrook on the back as Stu Krieger shook Holbrook's hand. The commander of the Special Investigative Division had made a personal trip to O'Fallon for the swearing-in ceremony. Standing next to Holbrook was his wife Susan, along with their twin sons still decked in their soccer uniforms. They had evidently come straight from a game.
     Detectives Cameron Ballack and Tori Vaughan approached the Holbrook family as Bosco and Krieger turned toward a plate of brownies. "Congratulations, Evan," beamed Ballack, "on so many levels!" He reached out to shake his colleague's hand.
     "Levels?" asked Holbrook.
     "Yeah," quipped Tori, "because when we joined the SID, we sure didn't get a fancy party like this. Plus, a newspaper photo op. Not too shabby."
     "Hardly a fancy party," frowned Holbrook in his blue oxford shirt and navy slacks. "You have brownies and Triscuits and no alcohol. And the photographer was from MidRivers Magazine. Not like we're talking the Post-Dispatch. Still, it's nice to be recognized."
     "You forgot the cheesecake bits," reminded Susan. "That ups the class factor considerably."
     "I haven't seen your boys in a couple years," remarked Ballack. "They've grown a lot."
     "What's wrong with you?" blurted one of the boys.
     The room went dead silent.
     "Excuse me?" Ballack said evenly, though he knew what the child meant.
     "What's wrong with you that you're in that thing?" the lad continued, pointing at Ballack's wheelchair.
     "Joey!" hissed Holbrook. "That was hardly appropriate!"
     Ballack shook his head. He didn't mind the question coming from an eight-year-old child with no frame of reference. Joey had simply not been used to an adult looking at him from eye level and could hardly be expected to process why a wheelchair was needed by a grown-up. Ballack shrugged; he had received much worse from adults who knew better.
      "Forget it, Evan," he said quietly before turning to Joey. "My legs don't work anymore, buddy. Something went differently with my body before I was born. It couldn't be helped. It's called myotubular myopathy." He said the words slowly. "You didn't know. It's okay."
     "You do know better, Joey," Susan said, letting go of the hand of younger twin Jake and placing a firm grip on Joey's shoulder. "We raised you better than that."
     "So, what's it feel like to sign up for trench warfare in the SID?" asked Tori, seeking to redirect the conversation from the familial discomfort.
      "First thing Scotty told me was my first opportunity could come up before I knew it, to not think I'm always on call, but I could be in the thick of it."
     "Pretty much what he told us when he gave us our SID badges," Ballack said.
     "And the funny thing is that our first case erupted a few days later," chimed in Tori.
     "Unlikely I get that on my plate so soon," replied Holbrook.
     "The spread of evil can waft to St. Charles County and beyond" said Ballack in a mysterious, prophetic tone, "so never lose heart. Seriously, Evan. You're a fantastic M.E., you have a great eye for detail, and you get results quickly so we can do our jobs. You give us a strong option when we do get a case, and if Scotty assents to this, I'd say that if something happens anywhere, you're right in the mix of initial options."
     "Spoken like the gentleman you are," Holbrook grinned. "Not to mention a scholar." He pointed at the open bulge in the side pocket flap of Ballack's wheelchair. "Is your job not thrilling enough that you have to read crime fiction?"
     "Oh, that," laughed Ballack, tapping an Arnaldur Indridason novel in the compartment. "That's my night reading. I was actually doing my puzzle book on the way over."
     "You do puzzles?" asked Susan.
     "You have no idea," Tori rolled her eyes. "He does Sudoku on our way into the office, but he does the jumble and anagrams in the afternoon. I've never known anyone that structured life around their games."
     "Jumble and anagrams?" Holbrook uttered admiringly.
     "I like words," Ballack answered. Scotty Bosco approached them as Krieger made a hasty exit.
     "It's like the family is moving up in the world," said Bosco, easing into their circle with a plastic cup of lemonade. "Long have we wondered if we could get a St. Charles M.E. to join the pack. The company keeps growing."
     "You're practically giddy," deadpanned Tori. "You sure that's just lemonade in there?"
     "I'm fine," said Bosco.
     "That's not answering my question."
     "While congratulating you, Evan," continued Bosco, "I also wanted all of you to know something else that's less than ideal. It's why I was hung up with Stu for a few moments. Janie Buck called me this morning and withdrew her name from SID consideration."
     "But she was such a great candidate!" exclaimed Susan. "Everything Evan has said made me believe she was a lock for the forensics opportunity."
     Tori, suddenly downcast, barely looked up as she spoke. "Is it her daughter?"
     Bosco nodded. "That's correct. The good news is that they finally discovered what was causing Jennifer's seizures. The bad news is there's nothing that can be done. She said it was..." He fished out a card from his pocket and looked at the notes he had written upon it. "Creutzfeldt-Jakob Disease."
     "Meaning what?" asked Susan.
     "I've never heard of it," said Tori, "and I spent some time in nursing."
     "The long and the short of it is that Jennifer's brain has developed holes and is a rapidly degenerating sponge," Bosco paused, allowing the gravity of the subject to sink in. "Janie said it's becoming more like Swiss cheese every passing day. There's some sort of infectious protein causing this and, thus, causing the seizures. Not to mention why Jennifer is having memory loss and some violent mood swings. I have to say, even with Janie being at her wit's end, she was calmer than I would have been."
     Ballack groaned. Janie Buck had proven herself a meticulous crime scene investigator, and she had been with him and Tori on their murder case at St. Basil's Seminary eighteen months before. But deep down, he groaned for Janie herself and the angst of this diagnosis. And instinctively, he knew this wasn't all behind Janie's resolution. "There's more to it, isn't there? Scotty?"
     Bosco nodded sadly. "It's not only the SID she's turning down. Janie said she has to quit the force for a while. Extended leave of absence. The nerve cells in Jennifer's brain are dying, and the rate at which this is happening leads doctors to say she has less than six months to live. She's staying at home and getting assistance from a home health nursing agency, and she wants to have these last days with Jennifer."
     The Holbrooks' boys were at the table sampling more sweets and were oblivious to the devastating news that had ripped through the adult hearts in the room. Tori covered her eyes to hide her tears. Evan shook his head and took a deep breath. Bosco looked at his watch and put the card back in his pocket.
     "That's what I was mentioning to Stu," he said, "although I kept many of these details out of the official report. If you guys do get an SID case here, there, anywhere, you'll be getting a forensics person from inside of 270. At least you've worked with Sheilah before."
     There was a lengthy pause, after which Bosco said, "Well, I have some things to attend to. I'll get someone to clean this room up and put it back to standard form. I'll see you all later." And he walked away.
     Nobody spoke. Tori's jaw twitched. Finally, Ballack looked around and quietly said, "Well, working together on an SID case is now officially possible, but after this news, any labor seems awfully trivial now."

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