The Surgeon: A Rizzoli & Isles Novel: With Bonus Content

careful dissection turned into mutilation. As if he got his hand on the scalpel and lost control. He didn’t just expose the organs. He carved them out of the body. First he severed the bladder and left it lying between the cadaver’s legs. Then he hacked out the uterus. He did this without any gloves on, as though he wanted to
feel
the organs against his own skin. And that’s how I found him. In one hand, he was holding the dripping organ. And in his other hand . . .” Kahn’s voice trailed off in disgust.
    What Kahn could not bring himself to say was printed on the page that Moore now read. Moore finished the sentence for him. “He was masturbating.”
    Kahn went to the desk and sank into his chair. “That’s why I couldn’t let him graduate. God, what kind of doctor would he make? If he did that to a corpse, what would he do to a live patient?”
    I know what he does. I’ve seen his work with my own eyes.
    Moore turned to the third page in Hoyt’s file and read Dr. Kahn’s final paragraph.
     
    Mr. Hoyt agrees that he will voluntarily withdraw from school, effective 8:00 A.M. tomorrow. In return, I will maintain confidentiality regarding this incident. Due to cadaver damage, his lab partners at table 19 will be reassigned to other teams for this stage of dissection.
     
    Lab partners.
    Moore looked at Kahn. “How many lab partners did Warren have?”
    “There are four students to a table.”
    “Who were the other three students?”
    Kahn frowned. “I don’t recall. It was seven years ago.”
    “You don’t keep records of those assignments?”
    “No.” He paused. “But I do remember one of his partners. A young woman.” He swiveled around to face his computer and called up his medical student enrollment files. The class list from Warren Hoyt’s freshman year appeared onscreen. It took Kahn a moment to scan down the names; then he said:
    “Here she is. Emily Johnstone. I remember her.”
    “Why?”
    “Well, first because she was a real cutie. A Meg Ryan lookalike. Second because after Warren withdrew, she wanted to know why. I didn’t want to tell her the reason. So she came out and asked if it had something to do with women. It seems Warren had been following Emily around campus, and she was getting the willies. Needless to say, she was relieved when he left school.”
    “Do you think she’d remember her other two lab partners?”
    “There’s a chance.” Kahn picked up the phone and called Student Affairs. “Hey, Winnie? Do you have a current contact number for Emily Johnstone?” He reached for a pen and jotted the number, then hung up. “She’s in private practice in Houston,” he said, dialing again. “It’s eleven o’clock her time, so she should be in. . . . Hello, Emily? . . . This is a voice from your past. Dr. Kahn at Emory. . . . Right, anatomy lab. Ancient history, huh?”
    Moore leaned forward, his pulse quickening.
    When Kahn at last hung up and looked at him, Moore saw the answer in his eyes.
    “She does remember the other two anatomy partners,” said Kahn. “One was a woman named Barb Lippman. And the other . . .”
    “Capra?”
    Kahn nodded. “The fourth partner was Andrew Capra.”

     

twenty-two
    C atherine paused in the doorway to Peter’s office. He sat at his desk, unaware she was watching him, his pen scratching in a chart. She had never taken the time to truly observe him before, and what she saw now brought a faint smile to her lips. He worked with fierce concentration, the very picture of the dedicated physician, except for one whimsical touch: the paper airplane lying on the floor. Peter and his silly flying machines.
    She knocked on the door frame. He glanced up over his glasses, startled to see her there.
    “Can I talk to you?” she asked.
    “Of course. Come in.”
    She sat down in the chair facing his desk. He said nothing, just waited patiently for her to speak. She had the impression that no matter how long she took, he would still be there, waiting for her.
    “Things have been . . . tense between us,” she said.
    He nodded.
    “I know it bothers you as much as it does me. And it bothers me a lot. Because I’ve always liked you, Peter. It may not seem so, but I do.” She drew in a breath, struggling to come up with the right words. “The problems between us, they have nothing to do with you. It’s all because of me. There are so many things going on in my life right now. It’s hard for me to explain.”
    “You