The Imposter (Alexandra Destephano Book 2) Page 4

  Jack had spent his life living on the edge. He had been a football star in high school and at Tulane University, where he had played linebacker. Shortly after graduation, Jack had joined the service and gone Army Spec Ops. Alex assumed Jack had been engaged in Black Ops, but didn't know for sure. Jack didn't talk about it much, but she knew that he had been everywhere in the world where there had been a skirmish in the last 25 years. He finally retired from the reserves about 10 years ago.

  Of course, now, he was a police Commander in New Orleans working in the city with the highest crime per capita of any city in the U.S. Plus, he now was Commander over the district with the most crime. This was further complicated by the fact that Jack was an honest cop and still clung to his ideologies, even after all of his years of investigating murders, assaults, drugs, and abuse. Jack didn't even need to be in the trenches anymore. He was a Commander, for God's sake! But, Alex knew that Jack would never leave the trenches. It wasn't in his genes. He didn't go to meetings, ever, if there was a way he could get out of them. He cared about victims and worked endlessly to avenge the dead and maimed. Besides, Jack liked to get even, and Jack liked to get back at the perpetrators. It was who Jack was and what had earned him the nickname of "Get Back Jack".

  For a fleeting moment, Alex considered calling Dr. Robert Bonnet, the chief of surgery at CCMC. Robert and Alex were close to Jack and shared concerns about him. Six months earlier, Jack Françoise had saved both of their lives as they were being pursued through the French Quarter by an assailant intent on murdering them. Consequently, a short while later, Robert had overseen Jack's surgery after he'd been shot by that same man. Robert had been injured as well, by a gunshot injury to the medial nerve in his right arm that could still cost him his career as a surgeon.

  Robert couldn't operate. The verdict was still out on his injury. Additional surgery and physical therapy would render a determination of Robert's future in a few months. Hopefully, he would be able to operate again. If not, he'd be an excellent medical doctor, as Alex had told him repeatedly. Robert was a natural healer but he was NOLA’s most outstanding surgeon. The police Commander, the surgeon, and the lawyer had become close at that time and forged a bond that would never be broken. The three had traveled to Alex's family home in Virginia with her grandfather, Congressman Adam Patrick Lee, and her grandmother, Kathryn Rosseau Lee, for a well-earned vacation and deserved respite. Alex and Robert had been married while attending the University of Virginia. Later they divorced, but had begun to build a new relationship in New Orleans.

  Alex's thoughts briefly returned to her relationship with Robert Bonnet, back when the two were still married. Alex had loved Robert without reservation. They met when Robert was a surgical resident and Alex was a doctoral student in clinical nursing. They dated for over a year, became engaged, and married at the University Chapel on the Lawn in Charlottesville in a very proper circumspect ceremony. The marriage had merged two of the most powerful political families in the South - the Bonnets of Louisiana and the Lees of Virginia. Robert's family had been prominent in the social, cultural, and political fabric of the state since the French had discovered Louisiana in 1769 and his ancestral grandfather had been the first governor of French Louisiana. Robert’s father, a former governor, presently served as a United States Senator for the great State of Louisiana.

  Alex's Virginia heritage was equally impressive. She could trace her ancestry to Richard Henry Lee, father of Robert E. Lee, Commander and Chief of the Confederate Army during the Civil War. Her uncle still owned the ancestral family home, Stratford Hall, in Westmoreland County. Another relative owned a historic plantation on the James River near Richmond. Alex's grandparents, Congressman Adam Patrick Lee and his wife, Kathryn Rosseau Lee, owned a large estate in Hanover County, Virginia -- not far from Scotchtown, the home of Patrick Henry.

  Congressman Lee, a diehard law and order politician, had been overwhelmed with respect for the then Captain Françoise's integrity, character, and investigative skills. He had tried unsuccessfully to lure Jack into a high-level position with the FBI in Washington, D.C., but Jack was resistant. He told the Congressman quite bluntly, and on several occasions since then, that he "wasn't working for no damn bureaucrats," that he was not for sale. Congressman Lee had loved the response and had tried even harder to recruit the burly, fearless New Orleans policeman. In fact, the Congressman was still trying to get Françoise to come to Washington and work on some special law enforcement projects, particularly anything related to terrorism, but Jack still refused. Alex knew Jack would never leave NOLA. Alex felt an arm on her shoulder that halted her daydreaming. She turned and looked at Jack Françoise.

  Alex's mind returned to the grim situation at hand. She stared again at Angie's battered body. Alex noted how pale, almost waxen, Angie's face looked and turned to Jack. "Jack, she is so pale. She looks like a corpse. Feel how cool she is."

  "Yes, I see." Jack was thinking back to the pale young corpse he had seen at Dr. Jeanfreau's morgue last week. She had looked just like Angie.

  Alex continued to stare at Angie's face and said, "Most of these areas look like bruises, but they aren't discolored like I would have thought they should be. Bruises generally are discolored from blood perfusion. These slice marks look superficial, and there is little blood. Jack, it looks as if she has been cleaned up and prepared for burial. I guess her eyes are swollen from her brain swelling. We call those raccoon eyes," Alex exclaimed, remembering her own ICU nursing days, feeling more angry and agitated than before.

  Just at that moment, Sandy re-entered Angie's room with the O.R. transport. "Gotta go, folks," Sandy said, as she helped the O.R. disconnect and reconnect Angie's tubes to portable equipment and push the bed out of the bay.

  Alex and Jack watched respectfully as Angie was wheeled from the E.D. Alex shook her head and looked at Sandy. "She just looks awful--why, she already looks dead. She's so pale. How much blood did she lose?"

  "I've no idea but there must have been a lot at the scene. Her head wound is a closed fracture, so no blood loss. Her blood values, specifically her H & H are 5 & 18, really low, almost incompatible with life. We're thinking there must have been a ton of blood at the scene because we frankly cannot explain the blood values. Several of the docs think the attacker thought she was dead when he left. Did you notice the rope burns on her wrists? They were bleeding a little. One of her wrists was slit."

  Alex felt her poise and composure completely leave her. She knew she had to get out of the E.D. She looked at Jack, whose face was a mask of outrage and fury. "Sandy, I've got to get out of here before I lose it. Jack, let's go to the cafeteria and grab a bite. We'll talk, and you, you can fill me in." Alex smiled at him and firmly, but gently, removed him from Angela's bedside. Sandy hugged Alex as she left the E.D.

  "Yeah, I'd like that." Jack looked at his watch. It was almost noon. The thought of something sweet improved Jack's mood significantly. "Do you think they have any jelly donuts left? I didn't get one earlier. Maybe if I get my blood sugar up, I won’t be so damn angry." Françoise looked at Alex sheepishly.

  She laughed and said, “Yeah, maybe, but I doubt it. If they do have donuts, I may fight you for them. I need some comfort food." As they walked towards the cafeteria, the pair reminisced a little. It seemed like a good way to diffuse their incredible stress and anger.

  Chapter 7

  "I'll never forget the first time I met you, Jack Françoise. You were brutally interrogating a nurse and eating a jelly donut. Might I remind you how rude you were to me. I was not impressed!" Alex's voice was stern and emphatic, but her blue eyes were laughing.

  "It's all in the past now, Miss Lawyer Lady. I had to check you out good, you know, and you finally earned your stripes!" Jack teased then turned his attention to the food line. Ahead he could spot the donut case. "Oh, good. This day’s getting a little better -- two jellies left."

  Alex shook her head as she watched Jack help himself to the remaining two jelly donuts and
a cup of black coffee. She helped herself to decaffeinated black currant tea and a bagel. She decided to spare the Commander any lectures on his health. The day had been difficult enough, and it had barely started.

  As they moved through the line towards the cashier, Commander Françoise said, "You pay, Alex. You make the big money. Besides, I don't get a hospital discount, although I should considering how much time I spend in this place."

  Alex laughed and nodded in agreement, handing her CCMC ID badge to the cashier, who scanned the amount and charged it to Alex's account. The two selected a private table in the back of the physician's dining room. They munched in silence for a few minutes, each caught up in their own thoughts about Angie and Bridgett. Finally, Alex broached the inevitable topic, "Well, Jack, what you got?"

  Jack shook his head. "Not a lot. These kind of cases make me sick. Nurses should never be expected to walk that far alone at night. It's at least two blocks from the psych unit to the parking deck. It's unlit, heavily shrubbed, and unsafe. It's a perfect setting for a brutal crime like this one. I'm surprised there haven't been more crimes over there."

  Alex and Jack were interrupted by Dr. Desmonde who joined their table with a cup of tea. Her voice reflected Jack's anger, "I agree. You're right, Jack. I've been screaming at Montgomery and Favre for three years to do something about the location of the psych units, or at least the parking. I would have been satisfied with some lights, for God's sake.”

  Monique said, “Alex, you have known my concern about this for a couple of years! We both tried to get administration to move towards making the psych areas safer. This hospital doesn't give a rip about psych because it isn't a money maker." Monique slammed her teacup down on the table in frustration.

  Alex eyed her friend carefully. Monique was a beautiful woman in her mid-forties. She was clearly distraught over Angie. The tall, thin psychiatrist was impeccably dressed as always, but her luxurious dark hair had fallen out of its neat chignon. Her normally pale, lovely face was flushed with anger and frustration. Her voice, usually low and controlled, was close to hysterical, or as close to hysterical as Monique would ever be.

  Alex nodded. She knew Dr. Desmonde was right. She didn't challenge her at all. Monique Desmonde was uncharacteristically upset. She rarely wore her emotions on her sleeve and she was a master at controlling her feelings and behavior. After giving her friend a chance to recover and compose herself, she asked Dr. Desmonde how Bridgett was.

  "Bridgett's gone home with her husband. I gave her a sedative and a prescription for later. They were going to get Angie's baby, who I may add was in the hospital nursery all night. Damn! Those nursery workers should become suspect if a nurse never showed to pick up her child. Damn, these people." Monique's deep voice was loud. Several physicians looked curiously at her from their tables in the private dining room.

  Alex intervened and changed the subject. "What do we have as far as evidence? Did forensics get anything good?"

  Jack answered, "Just the normal stuff -- you know, pubic hair, oral, anal, vaginal and rectal swabs, that kind of stuff. We also got some skin and blood that we found under her nails. She must have gotten one swipe at him before he beat her into submission." Jack paused for a few moments while Monique and Alex watched the emotions of hate and rage cross his face. He continued, his jaw clenched, "I'd like to kill the SOB." Neither Monique nor Alex doubted the intensity of Jack's desire for true justice.

  "Is there any forensic evidence other than what you've just told us, Jack?" Alex looked at him, expectantly.

  "Labs aren't back yet. We don't know if we're even going to get the PEPA and the PGM -- you know, those semen tests -- because too much time may have gone by." Jack shook his head. "I sure hope we can nail him with the forensics."

  "You got to catch him first, Françoise," Dr. Desmonde reminded the Commander.

  Jack raised his eyebrows and glared at the shrink. "Not to worry, Doc, not to worry. I'll get 'em. In fact, I plan to get him soon. You know me, Get Back Jack," the stocky police Commander declared to the psychiatrist.

  Alex was deep in thought. As a nurse and an attorney, she knew the proper collection of forensic evidence was critical for a court conviction of a rapist. She also knew that semen usually contains three genetic markers at levels adequate enough to allow for routine typing for evidence. Unfortunately, PEPA decreases within three hours after intercourse and PGM would not survive for more than six hours. Consequently, the early gathering, testing, and analysis of the semen specimen was pivotal to building a successful case. The semen genetic markers were ABO blood group antigens and testing was done by quantitative electrophoresis analysis. Since the genetic markers occur in variable amounts in different populations, their presence or absence in combination with each other often were used to arrive at a percentage or likelihood of whether the suspect is the rapist or not. Hopefully, the comparison of the crime scene evidence with blood and hair samples from the suspect would provide compelling evidence in court and would render a guilty verdict.

  Alex continued to review her knowledge of forensic medicine and asked, "Jack, how do the experts handle the bite marks on her back and shoulder? Who did you call in to look at that?" She shuddered as she thought about Angie being bitten by her attacker.

  "Damn bastard, a real animal. SOB must be crazy. Probably one of your patients, Monique! Have you thought about that possibility?" Jack turned toward the psychiatrist, flashing his angry, dark eyes.

  "Yes." Monique practically hissed at him. "I've thought about it, Françoise! Do you think I'm an idiot? That's all I have been thinking about since this morning! I've got the team working on it now, looking at charts and putting together a profile among the inpatients." Dr. Desmonde glared at the Commander from across the table, barely able to conceal her anger.

  Alex ordinarily would have interceded between the two, but knew Jack and Monique had been friends since childhood and were actually pretty close. Alex also knew that Jack was uncharacteristically affected by this rape because of his fondness for Bridgett and Angela. It would be difficult for the psychiatrist and the police Commander to be completely objective on this one. And, me as well, Alex thought. Angie and Bridgett have been my friends since I've been here.

  Alex asked again, "What about the bite marks, Jack? What do you make of them?"

  "Don't know yet. The crime guys photographed it and were smart enough to include a reference scale this time." Jack rolled his eyes and told Alex and Monique about the time the NOPD crime team had forgotten to use a reference scale with the bite mark. "When we got to court, the evidence was useless because there was no reference scale with which to compare the size of the bite with the mouth and teeth of the suspect. As you can imagine, the evidence was inadmissible. It was a big loss to the prosecution. Lots of heads rolled on that one."

  "I bet they did and they should have," Alex said. "A huge error of omission. I bet the prosecutor was enraged." Alex could imagine the colorful and politically astute Harry Connick Senior, the New Orleans prosecutor, being caught with his pants down. The man just hates to lose, just like me, Alex thought. I do hate to lose.

  "Are you all sure you did everything right this time," Alex inquired, with a hint of that old Virginia southern drawl slipping passed her lips.

  "Yeah. Best I can tell. We took the photos, included the scale, and called in a forensic dentist. The crime team also asked that casts be made to use later to identify the perp. I think we are covered. One thing the CSI team said is that one of the forensic nurses noticed some puncture wounds on each side of Angie's neck. She said they were hard to see because they were in the slice wounds going around her face."

  The three sat in silence for a few moments, pondering the horrific attack on Angie. Finally Alex said, "Puncture wounds. Why would she have puncture wounds? Have you ever seen that before, Jack?"

  Jack thought for a few minutes and answered, "No, I haven't. I really didn't notice them in the E.D., but we'll cross check that with other similar
injuries in the data base. We may get a hit."

  "Did they mention a lot of blood at the scene?"

  "Nope. It didn't come up, but I haven't been to the scene yet. If there was, it'll show up in the crime scene photos," Jack replied, looking at both women.

  After several minutes of silence Dr. Desmonde asked Alex, "What do you think the liability of the hospital is on this?"

  Alex shook her head. "I don't know yet, probably significant. Personally, I feel that we should provide a safe place for our staff to work and that we should provide security for them to get to and from their cars, which we do ...."

  Monique interrupted her angrily, her face flushed. "Dammit, Alex. You sound just like a Main Street lawyer! You know as well as I do that the location, staffing, and administrative management of the psych department are unsafe. It's a joke!"

  "Unsafe to you and me, Monique, nevertheless, the standard of care." Alex sighed. This was getting difficult. She continued, hesitating a little and then continued, "Well, the nurses can choose to call security to escort them to their cars when they get off and …."

  "Stop it, Alex. That's shit." The usually tranquil chief of psychiatry at CCMC was livid, her pale face colored with anger. Monique rarely used bad language. "You and I both know it! Escorting nurses to their cars during the off hours is the lowest security priority in the entire hospital. Last night Angie Richlieu stayed late. There was some sort of patient commotion. One of the patients attacked a woman in the day room. I don't have the details, yet. Anyway, the patient incident got the entire unit in an uproar. Angie stayed late to help the nightshift calm the unit down. She didn't have to. She doesn't get paid for staying late anymore. In exchange for staying three hours overtime, she's told it'll be 30 to 45 minutes before security can escort her to her car! Alex, for heaven's sake, give it up. You know it's wrong!" Monique's voice and hands were shaking.