Snapping off her dictaphone Amanda Bentley replaced the hospital sheet, covering the cadaver she'd been working on. Sighing with satisfaction she mentally congratulated herself on a productive morning and walking to her desk took great pleasure in straightening the testament to her productivity - an impressively large stack of completed autopsy reports. Glancing at her watch she realised it was almost 2.30pm
'Boy time flies when you're having fun' she thought with a smile.
She knew that others found her passion for pathology hard to understand. To be honest she wasn't sure she understood it herself. There was just something innately therapeutic about the logical procedures she followed, the tests she carried out, the steps she went through to reach a precise conclusion. Her work was tangible and methodical, but never dull. Her acceptance of the County ME's post had increased both her hours and her responsibilities, but it also gave her the freedom and opportunity to develop her expertise.
Amanda knew that she was good at her job. The MESSI award she'd been honoured with a couple of months back had served as a public recognition of her ability, but she hadn't really needed external verification. She knew she had a gift for pathology. As much as she loved being mother to CJ, her career was so important to her, forming the corner stone of both her self-confidence and sense of identity.
It was hard juggling motherhood with a profession, but she was doing okay. It was even harder juggling a love life and she'd been alone for quite awhile before Ron came on the scene. She smiled, with Ron Wagner there was a chemistry she hadn't felt in a long while. Sure it was tough having a long distance relationship, but she was willing to give it a shot. She missed him terribly whilst he was away, but she had CJ and she had her friends. Mark, Steve and Jesse were always there if she needed them, be it a shoulder to cry on or a last minute babysitter, and she loved them dearly. She didn't love them in the way that she loved Ron, but she loved them all the same.
Crossing to the small fridge in the corner of the lab Amanda retrieved her lunch and a carton of juice. Settling back comfortably behind her desk she pulled the latest copy of 'Celeb Magazine' from her draw, unwrapped her roast chicken sandwich on rye and determined to reward herself with at least half an hour immersed in the love lives of the rich and famous.
Part way through a story on the latest developments between Tom, Nicole and Penelope, she was startled back to reality by a loud crash, as Steve Sloan tripped over her waste paper basket in his haste to reach her desk.
'Damn it' he cursed, simultaneously rubbing his shin and stooping to retrieve the upended contents of the trash can 'This is just not my day'.
'And a good afternoon to you too' Amanda intoned dryly, raising her eyebrows at his current mood. She rose to help him, biting back a smile at the clumsiness of his entrance, as she realised he definitely wouldn't appreciate being ridiculed right now.
'Sorry Amanda' Steve sighed, 'Guess I'm a little grouchy today'. Getting straight to the point he continued 'I need you to go over the autopsy reports on Peterson and Summers again'.
'Have you come up with something?' she asked hopefully.
'Not sure yet' he sighed. 'But I did find out that they'd both visited Cairo in the last few weeks. It's the first common link I've been able to make'. He continued hopefully 'I thought maybe there was something in the autopsies we'd missed, some commonality that would suggest one killer as opposed to two'.
'No problem' Amanda replied, looking out the files for him 'Do you know what they were doing in Cairo?' she asked, hoping for more clues.
'Steve?' she prompted when she failed to receive an answer. Looking over she noticed his eyes were shut and he was leaning rather heavily against her filing cabinet.
'Are you okay?' She asked with concern placing a hand on his arm 'You look a little pale'.
'Honestly Amanda I'm fine' he protested feeling rather foolish. It was years since he'd felt light-headed in a path lab – must be the heat. If Jesse found out he'd never live it down. 'I'm just tired is all and this heat isn't helping'.
Fetching him a glass of water, Amanda eyed him suspiciously 'Steve, when did you last eat?' she asked.
Taking a grateful sip of water he thought for a moment and was surprised to find that he couldn't actually remember. He knew he hadn't yet eaten today, but had he really skipped out on yesterday too?
'I thought so' Amanda stated accusingly, correctly interpreting his silence. 'Honestly Steve you know better than that' she continued 'how do you expect to solve this case if you don't take care of yourself?'.
'Come on Amanda, it's not a big deal, I'm fine really' Steve sought to assure her with a smile. 'If you'll just go through those reports for me, I'll get out of your hair and you can get back to ….' he peered curiously at the magazine on her desk 'Today in LA - or whatever it is you're reading.'
Embarrassed she hastily dumped the magazine back in the draw, before turning back to him, arms crossed and face a picture of determination.
'Oh no' she stated firmly, 'we're not discussing anything until you get something to eat'.
Steve rolled his eyes; he'd seen Amanda in this mood before. He knew she had his best interests at heart, but he didn't have time for this right now. He tried bargaining 'How about we do the reports and then I promise to grab a sandwich on my way back to the station'.
'Not good enough' she stated emphatically, then seeing Steve's face, continued more gently, 'How about I get you some food and we talk whilst you eat?'
Realising this was the best deal he was likely to get, Steve allowed her to steer him to her chair.
'Okay Mister', she instructed, pushing him down into the seat, 'I'm going to the cafeteria to get you today's special and you'd better be here when I get back'. With that she turned on her heel and marched smartly out of the lab, turning only to give him a final stern look as she reached the door.
Impatient, Steve reached over to the reports on her desk. Rifling through the pile he quickly located those belonging to Summers and Peterson and settled back to read them. Scanning the pages he struggled to make sense of both Amanda's writing and the technical terminology. Feeling his eyelids getting heavy he stood up angrily, determined to make good use of the time whilst he waited for her to return. Ditching his jacket and rolling up his shirt-sleeves, he gulped down the remainder of the water. Feeling slightly more alert he turned back to the reports.