another problem altogether.
Rogan kept his eyes on the road.
‘Because, you know, I’m not looking to get personal with anyone I work with.’
Rogan’s stoic expression changed to a stifled smile, then he broke out into a full laugh. ‘In your dreams, woman. I’m very much spoken for. Oh, my lord, look who thinks she’s all irresistible and shit.’
‘That’s not what I meant. It’s just – I didn’t know why – really, that is not what I meant.’
‘That’s exactly what you meant. Stupid-ass Eckels goes and tells you I stepped up to the plate, and you assume the only reason a man would help you out is if he’s looking to hit that. Well, don’t think I didn’t get the same flack around the house. That, or they figured I was somehow sympatico with you because of the number of times I’ve heard bullshit behind my back. Affirmative-action hire. Diversity detective .’
‘And that’s not it either?’
‘Nope.’
‘So this is just going to remain a lifelong mystery? D.B. Cooper, Jimmy Hoffa, and why J. J. Rogan rescued Ellie Hatcher?’
His smile faded as he turned onto First Avenue. ‘I trust my instincts about people. I thought Eckels sticking you with Winslow sucked, and I thought it was going to cost the squad a good cop. And let’s just say I haven’t always had the easiest time with partners myself.’
It was the closest she was going to get to an answer, at least for now. ‘So you saved me,’ she said in a fairy-tale voice.
‘If you want to think of it that way.’
‘I do.’
‘All right, then. Can I listen to my radio now?’
‘You may.’
He turned up the volume and began moving with the beat again. ‘And I’m sorry to break this to you, Hatcher, but I really am spoken for. I was just telling my girl last night you and I were getting on good.’
Ellie looked out the window and bopped her head a little, too.
The Manhattan office of the chief medical examiner was located on First Avenue and Thirtieth Street, just north of the Bellevue Hospital Center. As they rolled past the canopied glass entrance of the hospital’s new addition, they caught a glimpse of the original building’s historic facade, still standing behind the modern entrance.
Bellevue Hospital is the site of the nation’s first ambulance service and maternity ward and the oldest public hospital in the state. But outside of New York, it’s known for one thing and one thing only: its crazies. Ellie had lived in the city for ten years now, but it was still hard for her to hear the word Bellevue without envisioning a stringy-haired man in a straitjacket screaming like a hyena.
Rogan found a spot on the street in front of the ME’s office. When they stepped out of the car, the sun was peeking out through a break in the clouds above them, and the air was still.
They made their way through the building’s glass doors and up to the fourth floor. A clerk at the front window checked their shields, buzzed them through to the back, and pointed them in the direction of a stocky man standing at a nearby desk, dictating into a digital voice recorder. He had brown curly hair and a graying beard, and wore a white lab coat over khakis and blue sweater. He held up one finger while he completed his thought, then flipped a button to turn off the recorder.
‘J. J. Rogan, right?’
Rogan accepted his handshake. ‘You’ve got a good memory, Doc. This is my partner, Ellie Hatcher.’
‘Richard Karr,’ the man said, extending his hand. ‘We spoke on the phone. First murder case?’
‘Second,’ Ellie said, ‘but close enough.’
‘All right, well, our first one all together, then. Let’s hope I can help you out. Now when you called, Detective, you said our young Miss Hart was nineteen years old and was last seen alive at a nightclub last night at two thirty a.m., correct?’
‘That’s right.’
‘That’s consistent with my best estimation of her time of death. Rigor mortis hadn’t set in yet.’