Chapter 35
35
Cora continued to dictate as she removed the stomach, weighed it, then opened it carefully with a neat slice. She sifted through the contents, seeing nothing suspicious. She removed several samples and had Janice place them in laboratory containers for further study. “I’m not seeing anything here that alarms me,” Cora noted. “With his swollen and pale legs, circulation was poor. His heart shows evidence of coronary artery disease with blockage of coronary arteries due to atherosclerosis. Complete occlusion of the left anterior descending artery.”
“The widowmaker,” Janice said, nodding as she continued to assist.
“That’s right.” Still working on the organs, Cora said, “Evidence of pulmonary congestion and edema.” She looked over at David. “See the fluid accumulation in the lungs. What causes this?”
“It could be due to the heart’s inability to pump blood efficiently,” he replied quickly.
“Correct,” Cora said.
As they neared the end of the autopsy, she was just about to have David close when the intercom sounded.
“Dr. Wadsworth. Someone wishes to speak to you—wait! You can’t go through there!”
The sound of a scuffle just outside the door was heard, and Cora glared as she snapped her gloves off. “What is happening?—”
The doors to the lab burst open, and a man rushed inside. He was portly, with dark hair that stood up as though he’d run his hand through it several times. His gaze shot wildly around the room, landing first on her, then dropping to the table behind her where the autopsy was being performed. His eyes widened, and his expression showed horror.
“Sir!” Cora shouted. “I don’t know who you are, but you must leave immediately! Carl—call security!”
“On their way,” Carl replied, rushing into the room, his hands raised to grab the unknown intruder.
The man whirled around and lifted his arm. A shot was fired before Cora could process what her eyes were witnessing. Carl fell backward, hitting the floor.
“No!” Cora’s shout was mixed with the screams of Janice and Carl’s cry of pain as he clutched his shoulder, blood running between his fingers.
She started toward Carl, but the intruder stopped her when he aimed the gun her way. “I have to help him!”
“No! No one move!” he cried out.
Cora knew hospital security would arrive, and the North Heron Sheriff’s Department would have been alerted. Keep calm. Keep him calm. She lifted her hands in front of her, moving slowly. “Okay… okay… we need to slow down, Mr….?”
He didn’t answer, so she continued to speak softly. “Carl is hurt, and we need to get him out of here. Will you let my assistant help him?”
The man’s glassy eyes continued to dart around. He looked at the weapon in his hand as though he had no idea how it got there.
The sharp sound of running footsteps echoed outside the lab doors, drawing Cora’s attention. Her chest tightened with dread. She prayed no one would burst through, knowing full well the man inside still held his weapon. One wrong move and someone else could get hurt—or worse.
“Stop!” she shouted, her voice steady despite the fear coursing through her veins. “We have a hospital employee with a gunshot wound to his shoulder!”
Her eyes darted to David, standing frozen nearby. His hands were slightly raised, his face pale and slack with shock. She could almost feel the tremor in his stillness. Turning her attention back to the intruder—a man with wild, darting eyes and sweat dripping down his temple—she forced her voice to soften.
“Please,” she said, her tone carefully measured. “Let Dr. Penn”—she gestured subtly toward David—”attend to the injured man. Allow him to leave so he can save his life.”
The intruder’s eyes burned with a manic intensity. “The devil’s work,” he hissed, his lips curling. “That’s what you do here. Devil’s work!”
A fleeting, absurd thought crossed her mind. The hospital seriously needed better security measures for screening visitors. Now was not the time for random thoughts. Focus. I need to stay calm.
“Right now,” she said slowly, “we need to help this man. He’s injured.”
The intruder’s hand trembled slightly as he adjusted his grip on the gun, his hesitation giving her a sliver of hope. Cora’s heart pounded as she glanced at Carl, who lay near the door, blood dripping from his shoulder. If they acted fast, it wouldn’t take much to drag him to safety.
Keeping her voice low and soothing, she tried again. “Dr. Penn, please move over to Carl. Get him out of here.”
David’s terrified gaze flickered to her, then to the gun, before he jerked his head in a shaky nod. He started inching forward, his hands still raised in a placating gesture. “I’m going to drag him through the doors now,” he said, his voice tight.
The intruder’s weapon snapped in Cora’s direction. Her breath hitched, but she forced herself not to flinch as he wiped a shaking hand across his sweaty face.
“I don’t want anyone else coming in here,” the man growled. “If they do, I won’t be responsible for what happens.”
Cora nodded at David, urging him on. Her pulse roared in her ears as she noticed the light on the intercom panel blinked to life. Someone was listening from the other side—a lifeline.
“Dr. Penn is going to assist Carl out of the lab,” she said clearly, her words directed both at the intruder and whoever was listening. “Janice and I are staying here.”
“Cora?” a voice crackled faintly through the intercom. She froze for a moment before recognizing it.
“Yes?” She wasn’t sure but thought she recognized Dan’s voice.
“This is Dr. Lyles. I’m here, just outside.”
The intruder didn’t react to her brief exchange, his focus remaining on the room. More accurately, his gaze continued to return to the body on the autopsy table. Seizing the moment, Cora added, “Dr. Penn, get Carl out to Dr. Lyles. He’ll take it from there.”
David hesitated, then bent down, his movements deliberate as he grabbed Carl by the shoulders. Cora held her breath as David dragged Carl inch by agonizing inch toward the doors. With a final heave, they disappeared through the doorway.
“I have them.” Dan’s voice came again, stronger this time. Relief swelled in her chest, but it was short-lived. “What’s going on in there, Cora?” he asked.
She kept her gaze locked on the intruder. “We have a distraught visitor,” she said evenly.
The low murmur of voices and the scuffle of hurried footsteps on the other side of the door hinted that law enforcement and hospital security had arrived. The sound gave her a flicker of reassurance, but she knew she had to keep the man focused on her.
“Listen to me,” she said, her voice gentle but firm. “No one here wants to hurt you. We just want to make sure everyone is safe.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Janice gripping the edge of the autopsy table, her knuckles white and her hands trembling. The stark fear in Janice’s eyes mirrored her own, but Cora couldn’t afford to falter now. Taking a small step forward, she steadied herself, determined to end this before anyone else got hurt.
“My name is Cora,” she said softly, her voice steady despite her heart pounding. She hoped to build a thread of trust. “What’s your name?”
The man’s wild eyes darted to hers, then back to the cadaver lying on the autopsy table. His knuckles whitened as his grip tightened on the gun. “I’m a man of God,” he finally said, his voice trembling with conviction.
Cora nodded slowly, her hands carefully placed at her sides. “Okay,” she said, her tone calm and measured. “That’s good to know. But I’d still like to know your name. It makes it easier for us to talk.”
He hesitated, his lips pressing into a hard line before his gaze dropped again to the body on the table. His expression twisted with grief and rage. “How can you do this?” he spat, gesturing wildly at the table with his gun. “This…” He choked on the word. “This is what you did to Mr. Parker. You cut him open. You defiled him. You found things that were meant to stay hidden.”
Cora’s mind raced. Mr. Parker. She’d met his wife and his sister. But his son? She didn’t recall ever meeting him. Her eyes flicked back to the man before her. No resemblance. No sign of familial connection. Wasn’t he in jail for assaulting a deputy?
“Please,” she began gently, trying to tread carefully, “I need to know?—”
“Mr. Grissley?” a voice crackled over the intercom, cutting her off.
Cora blinked, startled. The name didn’t register, nor did the voice calling it out. Her head jerked slightly as she glanced toward the intercom light. The intruder stiffened, his head snapping around toward the speaker.
“This is Buford Grissley, right? Pastor Grissley?” the voice continued, steady and calm. “My name is Officer Gomez. I’m a trained negotiator and want to talk to you.”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” Buford snapped, his voice rising.
“Pastor Grissley,” Gomez pressed, “We need to understand why you came to the hospital today. Were you looking for someone?”
Buford’s shoulders heaved as he took a ragged breath. His grip on the gun faltered, but only slightly. “He found it,” he muttered, his voice low and thick with emotion. “He found it and took it, and I had to stop him.”
“Who are you talking about? What did he find?” Officer Gomez asked, his tone even.
Buford didn’t respond, his focus pinned on the intercom. Cora took a slow, careful step back, inching her hand behind her. The cold surface of the autopsy table met her fingers as she slid them along, feeling for the scalpel she’d been using earlier.
“Pastor Grissley,” the negotiator continued, his voice easing into the tension-filled room, “I know you don’t want to hurt anyone. I know you care about people. I understand you’re distraught, but this isn’t you. You don’t want to cause harm.”
Buford’s head snapped back to Cora, his gaze seemingly unfocused before he turned toward the intercom on the wall again. She froze, hearing Janice shift her stance. The scalpel handle was pushed against Cora’s hand, and she realized Janice understood what she’d been searching for.
“This isn’t right,” he said, his voice sad and worn.
“What isn’t right, Pastor Grissley?” Cora asked, keeping her voice calm and steady as though she wasn’t staring at a man losing grip on reality with a gun in his hand.
“He had a heart attack,” Buford said, his voice breaking. “That was all. But he found out what Fred had taken.”
Fred? Cora’s mind raced. Fred Rudolph? The name clicked. He’d been in a car accident with the bag of prescription pills found at the scene.
The negotiator’s voice fell silent, and she realized he must be consulting with someone outside. Her thoughts leaped to one person—Jeremy. A shiver ran down her spine as she realized he might be there. The thought gave her both hope and fear. She clenched her jaw, fighting to keep her focus on Grissley. If Jeremy was outside, then help wasn’t far away. But she had to keep things from spiraling before anyone could act.
Her hand gripped the scalpel tightly behind her back as she prepared for whatever came next.