Missings, The by Peg Brantley

I want to be doing his autopsy.”
    “You don’t think this could just be the work of a competent hunter? Someone used to dressing game?”
    “No way. This person has been to medical school. I’m actually pretty in awe of his—or her—technique.”
    “I need the results as soon as you can get them. Call me if you find anything that might be important.”
    Terri Johnson stood up. “I think it’s time we see what my contacts in the ER at Aspen Falls Memorial might be able to tell us.”
    “Funny you should mention that. I was thinking the same thing.”
    It was going to be a long night. Again.

Chapter Twenty-Three
    Aspen Falls Memorial Hospital
    Friday, September 21
    The hospital emergency room seemed unnaturally quiet, but Chase bet it wouldn’t be that way much longer. Friday night often brought out the worst in people who had worked hard all week and wanted to blow off steam. And for some reason the college kids seemed to prefer Aspen Falls Memorial to the campus infirmary.
    Leslie James, the ER doctor on duty, looked up as they approached the desk. “Unless our communication system has crashed, you’re not here on a new case.” James moved around the desk to greet the detectives.
    The ER doctor sported an easy-care haircut and what Chase thought Bond would call an adorable smile. Terri normally worked all of the sexual assault and rape cases, and Chase could tell the two women had developed a friendship over the years. A friendship forged no doubt by mutual respect for jobs where each woman saw a lot, one under street lights and the other under fluorescents.
    Terri gave a nod toward Chase to include him in the conversation. “We’re here more as students at the moment.” She made the introductions. “What can you tell us about organ donation?”
    Leslie James answered their questions at length. To her professional credit, she didn’t ask them why they were standing in her ER, probing into a very specific area. Chase was especially impressed to discover that some things, like skin, could be stored for a period of time, but anything that required a beating heart and blood flow needed to be harvested and transplanted as soon as possible.
    He pushed thoughts of his son away.
    Chase was reminded that the process of pairing a donor to a recipient hinged on blood samples. Blood type matching, tissue matching and cross matching were all done via blood tests.
    He thought of all of those painful legalities when David died—form upon form they had to sign.His memories shoved back. There was no pushing these thoughts away. He needed to acknowledge them and move on. Two years ago he had not wanted any more information than absolutely necessary for that moment. That moment—the pain—was big enough. It had taken over his world. He hadn’t wanted to know the process.
    And blood samples in a hospital would never raise a red flag. But maybe blood being drawn without a good purpose would. Chase didn’t think his kids had ever had their blood drawn at the doctor’s office when they’d gone in for colds or the flu. And Rachelle Benavides had complained about having flu symptoms on her social networking pages. Maybe the ER employed a different protocol.
    “Is there any reason for a blood sample to be drawn when a patient comes in with cold or flu symptoms?” Chase asked.
    “None,” Leslie James said. “Viral illnesses would never require a blood test unless there were other indications, and most colds and flu are viral.”
    Terri flipped a page in her notebook. “Do you keep records of patients whose blood has been tested?”
    “We do.”
    “Can you see if you did a blood test on one of them?”
    “Terri, you know I can. But I can’t give you that information without a warrant.”
    “And here I am, hoping for the entire list of names,” Chase said. Chase glanced at the faces of the two women hoping they’d gotten his attempt at humor. He received confirmation in two identical rolls of eyes.
    Terri looked