THIRTY-THREE

Gravely passed Eden Palms, drove to his clinic, and into the attached garage behind it. A dim bulb barely lighted the area, and when he opened the rear door, I smelled an odor of gasoline.

“Out.” Gravely pushed a button and the garage door began to close. Although I had little chance of escaping, I lunged forward, pushed around him, and ran toward the closing door.

Both men sprang into action. Gravely grabbed me, pinning my arms to my sides, while Tisdale wrapped duct tape around my legs.

“Do her arms, too,” Gravely ordered. “Now.”

Although my bound legs left me off balance, I flailed my arms, striking out against both men. Hopeless. Tisdale slammed me against the car and held me there with the pressure of his hips while he helped Gravely grab my arms and tape them together.

Although I could neither walk nor protect myself, Gravely wrapped more tape around my eyes. Tisdale laughed. They picked me up, one at my shoulders, the other at my feet. I could only guess they were taking me into the clinic.

“Easy,” Gravely warned. “Don’t want to damage her.”

My spirits spiked for a moment. Maybe they were going to let me live!

“Where are you taking me?”

“Operating room,” Gravely said. “You’ll understand why soon enough.”

Again, fear paralyzed me. Were these two mad scientists who experimented on unwilling patients, performing surgery that left the victim in a vegetable state? I could barely speak, but my voice was my only weapon. I mustered strength and screamed.

“Shall I tape her mouth?” Tisdale asked.

“No need. I dismissed my patient to her family earlier. We’re alone.”

I stopped screaming. I felt them carry me up a short staircase and heard them snap on some lights before they lifted me onto a bed—a hard bed—the gurney. I’d been here before.

“I’ll ready the steamer while you untape her eyes,” Gravely ordered. “Don’t want to damage the eyes. Go easy with the tape.”

Tisdale eased the tape from my eyelids fraction of an inch by fraction of an inch, lifting it carefully until I could open both eyes. I lay in the same room I’d occupied when Gravely treated my leg. Gravely clicked on an overhead spotlight that gleamed on surgical instruments lying on a table near the gurney as well as on many stainless steel pans and a stack of Styrofoam coolers.

“Loosen her feet.”

Gravely had barely given the order when Tisdale began removing the duct tape from my ankles.

“Easy now,” Gravely said. “Easy. Leg bones are valuable. Let me help you.”

“What about her injured leg?” Tisdale asked.

Gravely checked the bandage. “No more bleeding. I did a good job. It looks fine. We may lose some tissue around the wound, but only a little. Bone’s in good shape.”

When my legs were free, I kicked at my captors, but they grabbed my ankles and used strips of terry-cloth towels to tie both legs to the gurney. Then they untaped my arms. I struck out with enough force to knock off Tisdale’s glasses. He swore as they clattered to the floor. But in the next minute they grabbed my arms and bound them to the gurney. Walking to a closet, Gravely flung open the door and removed two white lab jackets. He thrust one at Tisdale and donned the other one himself. Both men washed their hands before they pulled on surgical gloves.

“Got to keep things sterile,” Tisdale said, as if I’d asked.

“Off with her clothes.” Gravely pulled two pair of scissors from the hissing steamer near the sink, handing Tisdale one pair and keeping the other pair. Both men clicked the scissor blades as if testing them for sharpness.

For a moment I thought I still had a chance of escape. When they unbound my arms and legs to undress me, I’d fight for my life. Whatever they intended to do, I’d flail and strike out. I’d make it difficult for them, if not impossible. But it didn’t happen that way.

Both men began cutting my clothing away. Tisdale worked from the top. Shirt. Bra. He grinned at me, winked, and let his hand cup my right breast before he dropped the garments onto the floor. Gravely worked on the rest of my clothing. Slacks. Panties. After many snips, I lay nude. Gravely eased my sandals off and dropped them onto my mutilated clothes. Never before had I felt so violated. Anger flooded my body with pulsing heat at the same time terror chilled my being.

When I lay there naked, spread-eagled and helpless, Gravely ran his cool hands over each leg, ankle to crotch, and then nodded to Tisdale. Tisdale repeated a similar action on my arms, wrists to shoulders, winking when he let his fingers brush against my breast. My body broke out in goose bumps. When I tried to scream, no sound came.

“Perfect specimens,” Tisdale said.

“Get the face cone while I prepare the solution,” Gravely ordered.

For a moment, Tisdale disappeared from my sight and I heard him open a cupboard behind me and begin moving pans. Metal scraped metal.

“It’s right there in front of you,” Gravely said. “Beside that stainless steel bowl.”

“Right,” Tisdale said. “I see it now.”

Tisdale stepped into my view, carrying a mesh cone-shaped object. Frantically, I turned my head this way and that, trying to keep him from placing the cone over my nose and mouth.

“Ease up,” Gravely ordered. “Back off. Don’t hurt her. It’ll take me a minute or so to ready the solution.”

“What are you going to do to me?” Panic left my voice sounding thready and weak.

“We’re going to make you a hero.” Gravely laughed.

“Right.” Tisdale winked at me. “You’re going to make lots of people very, very happy. You’re going to be one of the eight thousand body donors who leave their organs to science each year.”

“How?” Horror was an icy balloon inflating inside me. “What are you getting ready to do?”

“Surely you’ve guessed by now.” Gravely laughed again. “We’ll put you in a coma—give you a knock-out drop or two while I harvest your body parts. Lungs. Liver. Kidneys. To be of value they must be taken from a living person. Rest assured we’ll let nothing go to waste and you’ll feel no pain.”

“You can’t do this to me.” My shout escalated to a shriek. “No! No! No!”

Tisdale laughed. “A single heart valve might bring us ten thou. Knee cartilage, fourteen. Millions of people have arthritic knees. They’d pay almost any price for cartilage that might preclude knee surgery and ease their pain. You’ll be an unknown hero in their eyes.”

“There’s a special demand for kidneys,” Gravely said.

“Right,” Tisdale agreed. “People in need spend hours on dialysis machines waiting for months, even years, for someone to donate a healthy kidney.”

“Tucker and I have worked together for months now—surgeon and undertaker. When someone in my clinic dies, I have the equipment and the know-how to harvest body parts and deliver them to black-market dealers quickly and in prime condition. Tucker handles the funerals. I take only a few parts from each body, and his work disguises my mutilations from grieving families. You’re a bonanza for us—all parts available and no family on scene.”

“Too bad Francine’s body went to waste,” Tisdale said. “No way we could harvest any parts with the police around. There would have been many calls for her organs.”

“Yes, there are many uses for a cadaver.” Gravely stood out of my sight. I could hear him pouring liquid, mixing a solution. “Sometimes the army has used whole cadavers—blowing them up as they search for land-mine-resistant footwear. Your body might spare some soldier from losing a foot or a leg.”

“That’s a lie,” Tisdale said. “We’re not selling your body as a whole. It’d only bring us a pittance. The real money lies in harvesting your parts and selling them individually for use in hospitals or research labs. But cut the talk. You don’t need to know so much.”

“What does it matter?” Gravely snorted. “She’s not going to live to reveal anything she’s heard here. Nothing. Nada.”

For the first time, I noticed a power saw lying on a countertop near the stainless steel sinks. I closed my eyes and gritted my teeth. I thought of my mother and how we’d spent weeks studying the body donor program before we’d decided to bequeath our remains to the University of Iowa’s transplant program in the altruistic hope of helping others lead a better life.

We’d pictured our bodies being gently and carefully dissected by grateful teachers at medical schools, by respectful students. We certainly hadn’t suspected that our body parts might be gleaned with a power saw and sold by hardened crooks for profit.

“You’re making a huge mistake if you think no one will miss me,” I warned. Where was Zack? Didn’t he wonder why I hadn’t returned to the police station?

“There’s no way to stop us.” Gravely continued to mix and stir. Metal scraped metal. I felt sick, humiliated. My stomach churned. What if I vomited? I’d heard of people choking on their own vomit.

“We have contacts.” Tisdale tried to fit the cone over my face again, and again I fought it, turning my head from side to side until he called to Gravely in frustration.

“You’ll have to help me with this one, Winton. Give her a shot before she damages her head and neck.”

Gravely stopped stirring and Tisdale retreated with the face cone. A few more minutes passed before Gravely stood at my side with a syringe, a drop of liquid hanging from the tip of its sharp needle. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and the tic contorted his cheek. He looked at me in disgust.

“You and Zack are lousy detectives, Bailey Green, or you’d have figured out that I use my speedboat for transporting body parts, not marijuana. You’d have figured out who left the note on your door—who slashed your bicycle tires.”

Although I sensed death hovering near, I clung to life, using my only weapons, my brain and my voice. Keep him talking. Give him a chance to brag.

“Why? Why target me?” The fluid clinging to the needle felt icy as it dropped onto my breast.

“You and Francine Shipton were two of a kind—nosey do-gooder busybodies. Francine planned to destroy our neighborhood with her homeless shelter, and I knew you’d help Francine do whatever she wanted done. A surgeon in my business can’t risk having snoopers nosing around his clinic. And if Francine had her way and enticed the homeless to an Eden Palms shelter, they’d soon be snooping. I had to kill her. She gave me no choice, and you sealed your fate when I caught you boarding my boat.”

I tried to confuse Gravely by abruptly changing the subject. “What about Wizard?” By now my mouth was so dry I could hardly speak, but I croaked the words, afraid that he might ignore my question.

“What are you talking about?” His needle scratched at the skin on my arm as he searched for the best spot to plunge it in. “You’ll only feel a prick. You’ll calm down after that, calm down and let us get the face mask in place.”

“I’m calm. And I want to know about Wizard—Mitch Mitchell’s homeless friend. You were afraid of his snooping, too? I’d never seen him around here, but when I saw his Conch Republic scarf hanging on your wall, I guessed you’d murdered him.”

“Oh, him!” Gravely rolled his eyes. “Yes. We made that scumbag a hero, too. Last Wednesday. Probably the first good thing he ever did for the world.”

“Cut the talk.” Tisdale stepped closer, face cone in his scaly hand. “Let’s get on with it. Now.”

Gravely stood pressing the hypo needle against my arm when a door splintered and feet pounded in the hallway.