Deep Lacerations: Chapter 6
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Jimmy Palmer glanced up as the doors to Autopsy opened. Expecting Agent Gibbs, he did a double take at the sight of CID Special Agent Sonja Gracy, a stray lock of light reddish hair over the determined look on her face. "Can I help you?" he asked, somewhat nervously. After the way she rattled off the signs of the death and estimated a time of death—without a liver temperature—he didn't quite know what to make of the CID agent. After assisting with Officer Chase's autopsy, Palmer found an article out on the work desk. Thinking that Dr. Mallard left it for him, he read it, not sure what the use of depth of lacerations in determining the gender and age of the assailant had to do with the case until he noticed the author line. The lead author was Major Sonja A. Gracy, MD, Armed Forces Institute of Pathology. Now that he knew that she was a highly respected pathologist, she made Palmer all that much more uneasy.
Gracy stopped in her tracks and turned toward him, her eyes focusing as she tucked that loose bit of hair behind her ear. "Is Ducky around?" she finally asked.
"He just stepped out. Is there something I can help you with?"
"Officer Justin Chase's body," she replied bluntly. Palmer frowned.
"Why?"
"I need to look at it," she replied, looking at him slightly askance. "Oh, and I need a hand lens."
"I can't let you access the body without supervision," he said, stammering slightly. She frowned.
"Then supervise me," she snapped. She sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose, looking away. "Sorry. I really do know what I'm doing. I'm a forensic pathologist." She paused. "Well, I was. Technically, I still am certified, I just don't practice anymore." She turned back to Palmer. "The body?"
"Oh, right," the medical examiner's assistant said quickly, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Even though he already knew that, hearing her say it aloud made him realize how little sense it made to keep her from examining the body, especially considering she practically did so at the crime scene. "Right over here." He pulled out a lower drawer and stepped aside. She smiled thinly at him as she grabbed a pair of latex gloves and the hand lens, and got to work.
"DiNozzo!" Agent DiNozzo's head snapped up at the sound of his boss' voice, seeing the supervisory agent heading his way, a stern expression on his face and that ever-present cup of coffee in his hand. He wondered, not for the first time, how Gibbs managed to get from Interrogation to the coffee shop and up to the bullpen so quickly. For a brief second, he wondered if there was some red-headed barista down there whom Gibbs flirted with to get that kind of service. Realizing that it was probably one of those things he'd never know the answer to, he forced himself back into the moment.
"Yeah, Boss?"
Gibbs stopped at his desk and glanced around the bullpen, seeing both DiNozzo and David sitting at their desks. "Where's Agent Gracy?"
"She said something about knowing how he did it and left the observation bay," Officer David answered. "She did not explain further."
"Find her," he said, his tone leaving no question that it was a command. "And then get to Annapolis and pay Midshipman Brenner visit." He began walking away before he even finished the sentence.
"And what are you doing, Boss?" DiNozzo called after him. Gibbs half-turned and fixed him with a look, not even breaking his stride.
Dr. Mallard stopped three steps into Autopsy, his eyes fixed on the scene in front of him: Special Agent Sonja Gracy crouched over a body extended from the lower drawer, Jimmy Palmer leaning over from the other side, trying to figure out what she was doing. "Ducky," Gracy said, her eyes not moving from the hand lens she was peering through. "If you were going to give someone an IV injection, where would you do it?"
"An IV?" Mallard asked, trying to follow what she was asking. "I haven't had to start an IV since my days as a medical officer with the—"
"Exactly," Gracy interrupted. "If you haven't injected someone IV for years, where would you do it?"
"I suppose the antecubital fossa would be the ideal choice," Ducky said thoughtfully. "The median cubital veins are large and very superficial."
"That's what I was thinking," Gracy murmured. As he approached, Ducky could see that she was studying the inside of Chase's elbows, using the gloved fingers of her left hand to gently stretch the skin taut as she used her right hand to hold the lens. "Midshipman Peete, Chase's girlfriend, mentioned a possibly jealous Mid who used to be a corpsman."
"Ah," Ducky said, understanding. He frowned. "Abigail's toxicology screen came back negative, so you must be thinking—"
"Air embolism," Gracy finished. "Gotcha," she breathed. She shook her head slightly. "No erythema or ecchymosis around the puncture site. It was immediately pre-mortem and cleanly done. Mid-sized needle, maybe 18 or 20 gauge." She straightened and beamed. "You should go tell Gibbs."
"It was your discovery, my dear," Ducky told her. "You should be the one to break the news." She opened her mouth to object, but didn't get the chance as DiNozzo and David rushed in.
"There you are," DiNozzo declared. "Come on, we're going to Annapolis."
"Midshipman Brenner?" DiNozzo nodded. "Good. Let's go." Both Tony and Ziva blinked in surprise as her determined stride beat them through the doors.