38

The excitement in Dr. Payton’s voice practically leapt from the phone when Emily called him Sunday and asked if she could drive down on Monday morning to deliver the DNA samples.

Putting a rush on it would be no problem. But he couldn’t produce official results until the week after the holiday because the staff and students had already left for Thanksgiving break.

Waiting only one week was a gift, seeing as most testing could take up to two months. Emily expressed her gratitude and agreed to meet him in his office around noon. He promised her a tour of the facilities and dinner out if she could stay. She definitely would. A snowstorm was predicted and she didn’t want to return to Freeport on dark, slippery roads. So, Dr. Payton had graciously set her up in guest housing.

After she arrived late Monday morning, she dropped her things in her room and headed and walked through the expansive campus to Dr. Payton’s building. The sidewalks were wet with fresh snow and tree branches were lined with white, but the campus was quiet at the start of this holiday week. It brought back memories of her own years at the University of Chicago and holidays spent in the dorms. She’d never minded being on her own those first couple of undergrad years. If she wasn’t skiing in Colorado with her aunt Laura, she would just crash at her aunt’s flat in Chicago for a staycation. It was cozy, quiet, and in the center of the theater district. She could sleep or play her music loud, and no one was there to wake her or complain about noise. And then came Brandon. After him, her holidays had been spent with his family in their ten-bedroom mansion in the tidy north suburbs. Or on the ski slopes in the Alps. Or the beaches of Aruba. It all just depended on what mood Brandon’s mother was in each year.

Entering the medical building, Emily shook off the cold and stomped excess snow from her boots. She stepped into the atrium and paused to gain her bearings. There was a winding staircase in the middle that led to the second floor, where she found Dr. Payton’s office. His door was cracked open.

“Charles? It’s me. Emily.”

She heard a chair scrape against a wooden desk, and then he was at the door greeting her with a huge smile.

“A pleasure to see you again.” He gave her a hearty handshake, holding on a just a bit longer than was customary.

“I have the samples,” said Emily, removing them from her handbag.

“Oh, not here. Let me take you to the lab.”

He grabbed a set of keys from his desk and whisked them down the hall. At each doorway he told her the name of each professor and their specialty, although only a few were actually in for the day.

They arrived at the lab on the third floor, and Dr. Payton unlocked the door and let them in. While the walls and floors were traditional brick and mortar from a hundred years ago, the equipment at each station was at least three to five years ahead of anything she had seen at the University of Chicago. Outstanding. Dr. Payton must have read her amazed expression.

“Yes. We’re very lucky. We secured a large grant a couple years ago that keeps us funded,” said Dr. Payton. Emily let her eyes drink in every detail of the massive scientific power this lab held. “Just think. You would have your own research assistant. Access to state-of-the-art equipment. Summers off.”

Emily grinned at Dr. Payton. “You know how to sweeten the pot,” she said.

“I can log in those samples now, if you want. Show you how these bad boys work,” he added.

Emily handed them over. He took them to the back, where he processed them and logged them into their computer system. “We’ll be a bit backlogged from the Thanksgiving weekend, but I’ll make it a priority to get to these first thing next Monday.”

“That’s perfect. We’re just really grateful for the expediency.” Her eyes were drawn again to the beautiful instruments before her.

Dr. Payton laughed. “Can’t stop staring, can you?”

“Caught me.”

Dr. Payton logged in the last sample. Nick’s.

“Nick Larson? The sheriff?” He gave her a curious look.

Emily struggled to respond and settled on, “It’s complicated.”

“Is he a suspect?”

Emily smiled and decided to change the subject. “The guest housing is really nice. And thank you for the orchids in my room.”

“My pleasure. Want to make you feel at home here.”

She squirmed inside and diverted her eyes from his to her surroundings. It was a dream lab. “Tell me more about the work you’re doing here.”

“I have several grad students working on a machine I developed that will swab DNA from mass casualties on-site for instant results. Can you imagine how much time that would save in victim identification?”

“What a huge relief for families. How does it work?”

“The theory is that you swab the samples and place them on the well of this small microplate. You can then run the direct DNA amplification process in less than two minutes.”

“Has it been tested? What’s the accuracy rate?”

“We’re over ninety-seven percent accurate. But to really put it to the test, unfortunately, we would need a real mass disaster. So we’re prepped and ready to go on-site, but of course, it’s a sad reality to have to wait for.”

Dr. Payton printed out a report of the log for her. “Here’s yours. I’ll call you with the results next week.”

Emily tucked it into her bag. He led them from the lab back to his office, and they talked for some time about the department’s needs and future direction. Emily could see that she would fit in nicely here. She and Dr. Payton had similar views about pedagogy and what they expected in student participation and research methods. She would have the freedom to experiment and work with some of the top law enforcement in the country to help them develop tests she and her father had dreamed of years ago—like X-ray machines that let you examine evidence at the site of the crime. Never had she imagined in med school that her life might take this turn.

Dr. Payton walked her back to guest housing. It was just past one, but the sky was dark gray and foreboding. Snow had started coming down hard by the time they reached the building.

“What do you think so far?”

“I’m impressed. I’ve always loved university life almost as much as I loved forensics. It’s all very tempting.”

“Then I’ve done the first part right. I was hoping the shiny gadgets would lure you. In part, anyhow.”

She laughed. “You’ve given me a lot to consider,” she said as he opened the door for her.

“I’m glad we’ve made it this far in the process.”

“No promises just yet.”

“I can’t help that I’ve had my fingers crossed since our first morgue meeting.”

“I have to ask. How did you find me? And why me?”

Dr. Payton chuckled. “I’ve sort of been stalking you. But in a professional way.”

“Okay?”

“I’ve read a lot of your dad’s articles in the Journal of Forensic Science. He mentions you in some of them. I started to dig and discovered you were only fourteen when you helped him with a murder-suicide. I was intrigued. So I searched a little more. Discovered your background, med school, surgical residency. When Sheriff Larson phoned, I jumped at the chance to come to Freeport. But I sure didn’t expect to see you. That was pure bonus.”

“And you decided to offer me a job? Just like that.”

“I know talent when I see it.”

Emily was touched by his compliment, and a little wary. No one had ever pursued her so doggedly before. For a slot in school. For a job. She had been an excellent student, but that had held little water when she’d been faced with the fierce competition of others as gifted as she. Emily had always excelled, but not without hard work.

She glanced beyond him to the snow outside, falling so thickly it had covered the footprints they had just made.

“You don’t have to walk all the way back to your building for your car, do you?”

“Actually, yes. It’s a good thing I don’t mind a brisk walk in the snow.”

“Too bad you don’t have a pair of cross-country skis. Please be careful.”

“I’ll pick you up ten to eight. The restaurant’s not too far from here. Wait in the lobby. I’ll escort you to the car.”

“I’ll be ready.”

He took off, disappearing within seconds into the white whirlwind. She liked being put on a pedestal. She liked being pursued. She really liked his caliber and his style. He was a hard worker, persistent, and serious. And he didn’t make her feel overlooked. He offered potential and possibility. On her terms. It was tempting.

*   *   *

Dr. Payton picked her up from guest housing that evening in his Audi SUV. They valeted at Chateau Le Bleu just a few minutes down the road. Given the snowstorm, Emily and Dr. Payton virtually had the place to themselves, barring a Chinese family seated near the window at the front.

The host seated them at a two-top in a darker corner with a tea light candle casting a soft glow over the silver and linens. A bottle of red was on the table, and the waiter arrived to pour a small taster sample in a red goblet. Emily swirled the liquid a few times and inhaled. She had learned how to taste wine from her many wine tastings with Brandon, from Napa to Bordeaux.

“It’s nice. Smooth. No tannins,” said Dr. Payton. He swished the wine in his mouth to spread the flavors. Emily did the same. “I taste blackberries and—”

“Tobacco on the back of the tongue?” added Emily.

“Yes. Exactly.” He sounded suave. “Actually, I don’t know a thing about wines.”

The waiter poured more into her glass, then into Dr. Payton’s. He recited the specials and left them to mull over the choices.

“I’m thinking scallops. How about you?” She looked up from the menu to find him staring at her.

“I’m thinking about you.”

Emily didn’t move or breathe for a long moment as they held each other’s gaze. There was an underlying assurance in him she had never seen in Brandon or Nick. Maybe it had to do with maturity and age. Finally, she took another sip of her wine.

“Emily, I know you’re not obtuse to the situation here. You know I like you. As more than a candidate for the department.”

“There must be rules about professors dating,” she said boldly, knowing she had clearly read his intentions.

“Nothing we can’t overcome.”

“I guess I have to get the job first.”

He smiled and enjoyed another swig of the wine.

“You already have a strong résumé, but there is something that could really put the feather in the cap of your application.”

“Oh, what’s that?”

“Have you published before?”

“On a resident’s schedule? No.” And then she quickly remembered that Brandon had published half a dozen times with Dr. Claiborne before he’d completed residency.

“Would you consider publishing a journal article with me on the Parkman case?”

“A journal article? Oh, is that what you had in mind when you were talking about using this case for your research?” she asked.

“I’ve been thinking about it, and yes, I think it has great merit.”

“What angle would you take?”

“Case study. On rural investigations of clandestine graves.”

It was a good angle. “Sounds like it will require a good deal of research.” She tried not to lead with her wariness, but it leaked into her tone.

“All you need to do is give your report and expert opinion as medical examiner.”

Emily hesitated, trying not to be influenced by the flattery of the ask. “It might be a bit premature,” she started. “There’s so much going on with the case right now. Don’t you think it would be better to get some closure on it before publishing? I would just be afraid of leaking some piece of information that might harm the investigation.”

“No. We would take a purely scientific and sociological approach. The article would focus on aspects of the injuries, how long the body had been left to the elements, if similar cases from rural areas have yielded investigations that led to arrest and trials.”

“I don’t know if I feel comfortable about this. There are a lot of personal angles involved in this one.” Emily didn’t want to divulge how many in her own circle of friends were on the brink of being accused as suspects or accomplices. She wasn’t sure she wanted this case and its backstory to go public.

“I get that it’s a sensitive case, but we wouldn’t be pointing fingers. Just presenting a case study.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea. Perhaps we can revisit this another time.” She put her foot down.

“I’m not trying to pressure you. I’m only offering because I want to give you a leg up on the competition.”

“What competition is that?” she asked.

Dr. Payton stuttered over his answer. “You aren’t the only one being considered for the position. I’m sure it doesn’t surprise you to hear that the other applicants have more specifically related experience in the field.”

“I see.” She was not surprised, but she was put off by the slight threat he was insinuating. And she didn’t like the casual manner in which Dr. Payton had not considered the people involved in this case. These were her friends. Her community. This was her home.

*   *   *

The waiter arrived with the entrées and they sunk their teeth into the first delicious bites. Emily couldn’t remember the last time she had eaten such a gourmet meal. She had been promised one by Brandon for her birthday over two months ago. But her father’s heart attack that day had dissolved those plans instantly.

“If you don’t mind me asking, why did you get into surgery instead of following in your father’s footsteps?” said Dr. Payton as he poured the last few drops of wine into her glass.

“I loved helping my dad with death investigation. But I knew I would need a medical degree if I wanted to pursue it.”

“Normally I would say that seems like an odd choice for a young girl.”

“People don’t understand that it’s so much more than cutting up dead bodies.”

“I’ve never thought of it as more than just a procedure.”

“No one is ever prepared for a death of a loved one. It can be scary and upsetting and confusing. My dad gave people answers as to why and how their loved one died. When someone can sit down and really explain this with compassion, it gives a lot of comfort and peace of mind to victims’ families. He helped them during their darkest hours so they could focus on the meaning and purpose of the life of their loved one.”

“That’s beautiful, Emily. So, why surgery?”

“Life brings us detours sometimes.” And she left it at that. “I bet you always knew what you wanted in life.”

“I did,” he said with confidence. “And gratefully, it’s all worked out the way I had imagined.” His whole body was still as he said it, his gaze unflinching on her. “But you … you’re much better than I ever imagined.”

She warmed under his smile, and before she knew it, Emily asked him, “What are you doing for Thanksgiving?”

“No plans yet.”

“How would you like to spend Thanksgiving with me and my sister’s family?” she said, making a snap decision to spend the holiday with her new family.

The words purred from him. “I would love to.”

“Great.” The wine had drained all the problems from her head. Change and choice. Potential and possibility. It was hers for the taking.

Now she just needed to confirm with Anna that she was, in fact, still invited for family Thanksgiving. And with a date.