Paul had a radio-dispatched Town Car waiting for him outside of Laurie’s building. He was happy to give her a ride. He said he was going in the same direction. His first meeting for the day was at the United Nations. Laurie was impressed and even more curious about the nature of his business. She was tempted to ask who he was seeing, but was afraid her motive would be too transparent.

Outside of the Office of the Chief Medical Examiner Laurie waved as Paul’s car accelerated north on First Avenue. Then she turned and mounted the steps of the blue-glazed brick building. As she entered, she felt vaguely out of sorts, which was not how she’d started the day. Although she and Paul had not had an argument, they’d come close. It had been the first such episode in their wildly romantic relationship. She hoped it wasn’t a premonition of things to come, and that the hint of male chauvinism in his responses didn’t mask outright sexist views.

Laurie crossed the empty waiting area and approached the main interior entrance that led to the first-floor corridor. “Excuse me!” she called out to Marlene Wilson, the African-American receptionist. Laurie needed Marlene to buzz her in.

“Dr. Montgomery! Hold on!” Marlene said when she caught sight of Laurie. “You’ve got some visitors who’ve been waiting for you.”

A middle-aged couple whom Laurie had never seen stood up from one of the waiting room’s vinyl couches. The burly man was in a heavy red-checked wool jacket and needed a shave. He was holding a hunting cap with earmuffs tied over the top. The woman seemed frail. There was a lace collar around her coat. The two looked as if they belonged in a small town in the Midwest. They were plainly intimidated, and exhausted, as if they’d been traveling all night.

“Can I help you?” Laurie asked.

“We hope so,” the man said. “I’m Chester Cassidy and this here is my wife, Shirley.”

Laurie recoiled at the surname, realizing that she was most likely facing the parents of Brad Cassidy. Instantly, the horrific image of the tortured young man she’d posted the day before sprang unbidden into her mind’s eye. She remembered the gouged eye sockets, the huge nail that had been pounded through the boy’s palm, and the naked part of his chest and abdomen where he’d been skinned alive. She shuddered.

“What can I do for you?” Laurie managed to say.

“We understand you are the doctor who took care of our son, Brad,” Chester said. His large, gnarled hands were unconsciously worrying his hat.

Laurie nodded, although “taking care of Brad” was hardly an appropriate euphemism for what she’d had to do.

“We would like to talk to you for a few moments,” Chester added. “Provided you have the time.”