She began remembering Louisiana and wishing she'd stayed there.
If only she could know!
She shook herself and started the car. One thing she did know Come Thursday morning she was going to be on duty and she was not going to let Senator Marsden out of her sight for one second.
PRESURGICAL DUNCAN POURED A SECOND CUP OF COFFEE FROM. THE carafe and settled behind his desk. He liked Wednesday mornings in the cool stony quiet of the officer, especially when, like today, he could get in early and have the place to himself. With no surgery scheduled, he could dawdle with his coffee, savoring the silence and the aroma as he watched his koi meander around their pool in the rock garden, and catch up on his dictation, tidy up any loose ends from Monday's and Tuesday's procedures, then have the rest of the day to himself. Maybe he'd call Brad and convince him to take the afternoon off from classes, he figured Brad would need about ten sc-conds of convincing. Maybe they could get in a round of golf. He hadn't played in ages.
He picked up the remote and aimed it at the TV across the room. He switched from CNN to Today to Good Morning America to This Morning and then back to CNN. Apparently nothing newsworthy had happened yesterday, and the morning shows seemed interested only in movie stars.
C-SPAN was rerunning footage of presbyopic senators droning over long speeches to an empty chamber in support of or in opposition to some inconsequential bill.
Time to catch up on dictating his surgical reports. He pulled out his key and inserted it into the lock. It wouldn't turn. He tried it again, wiggling it back and forth, sliding it in and out. He checked to make sure it was the right key, then tried again and noticed that the key wasn't going in all the way. Something was wrong with the lock. Jammed somehow.
Now how the hell had that happened? It hadn't been sticking or showing any warning signs that something was amiss. Goddamn. What a world.
Didn't anybody make anything that worked?
He wandered out to Barbara's desk and now wished she were here. He needed to get a locksmith to get that damn thing open. He supposed he could call himself but it was probably too early. He grabbed a pen and left a note on Barbara's desk to call one as soon as she got in.
As he straightened and started to turn away, he noticed the manual for the FDA database Lying on Barbara's desk. Probably Oliver had needed it.
At least somebody was getting some use out of it.
He went in search of another minirecorder.
Gin levered up to a sitting position in bed.
"Oh my God! " She'd been Lying here, wishing she could rest easy and luxuriate. No surgery today, no moonlighting last night, and no meetings at the senator's until the afternoon. Should have been a great morning.
But yesterday's revelations wheeled over the bed like hungry vultures.
The trocar . . . the TPD . . . the information from the FDA . . .
she kept trying to put a fresh spin on them, one , wouldn't make Duncan look bad. Racking her brain, Ig over everything, she remembered the FDA download.
> "RFP" file she'd created on the hard drive.
eye hadn't erased it.
le jumped out of bed and began pulling on her clothes.
could brush her hair in the car, but no time for a shower.
had to get up to the office and erase that file. If Duncan found it, or Oliver ran across it and asked Duncan about he'd know she'd been in the drawer.
he grabbed her car keys and tan out.
" right, Doc, " the locksmith said. He was thin, looked ut forty, reeked of tobacco, and had Bill stitched on his " shirt.
"You're all set."
"Excellent, " Duncan said but didn't mean it. The man spent an hour on what should have been a fifteen-minute job. It hadn't been easy, but after twenty minutes of grunts and muttered curses, Bill finally got the drawer unlocked. Duncan hovered over him the whole time, and as soon as the drawer slipped open, he removed the TPD and trocar and put len in one of the cabinets on the other side of the room.
neither would mean a thing to the locksmith, but Duncan Lnted them safe and out of sight. As for the rest of the drawer's contents, he dumped them on the desktop.
Bill took the empty drawer out to his truck, saying he would work on it better there. Duncan figured he could also have a cigarette.
So now, after an interminable period, Bill was back.
"Had to pUt in a new lock."
"What was the matter with the old one? " "I wanted to know the same thing. Had to take it apart to find out. A little strange." Why did he seem hesitant?
"How so? " He fished in his pocket and brought OUt a piece of Scotch tape. He dropped it on the desktop in front of Duncan.
"This was in it." Duncan picked up the tape, a single piece folded on itself. Caught between the two sticky surfaces was a small shard of metal.
"How did this get in my lock? ' '"Somebody left it there."
"Now why on earth, ? " "Not on purpose. It looks like it broke off the tip of a tension bar."
"A tension bar? " "You know, something you use to pick locks with. ' No, Duncan did not know. He stared at Bill as a spasm rippled through his intestines. He dropped the tape, then snatched it off the desk.
Had this man actually said . . . ?
"What? " Duncan's expression must have been fierce, because Bill began verbally back pedaling.
"I can't be sure, of course, but that's the first thing I thought of when I saw it drop out of the cylinder."
"But that's ridiculous! ' He realized he'd raised his voice. He hadn't meant to do that.
"Hey, okay, " Bill said, making conciliatory motions with his hands.
"Don't get excited. Makes no difference to me. If you ain't missin' nothin', then I guess maybe I could be wrong. But it sure looks like the tip of a tension bar." Duncan's mind raced back over the contents of the drawer. The TPD, the trocar, Lisa's photo, the recorder, and some miscellaneous junk. All there when they'd opened. the drawer.
He modulated his tone. "Well, I'm not missing anything.
And I don't keep anything in there worth stealing in the first place.
So I guess that means the lock wasn't picked." Bill shrugged, averting his gaze. "You could say that. Could also say that the piece might've chipped off and jammed in there before whoever it was got the drawer open." Duncan winced as the spasm tightened its grip on his gut. He's right.
But who in the world . . . ?
"Yes, well, since nothing is missing, I think I'll just forget about it. But I'm certainly glad you brought it to my . . .
attention. "Hey, no problem." When Bill left, leaving a set of keys for the new ock, Duncan went to the appliance cabinet and checked the TPD bottle.