Hardbingers

9

Midafternoon, after leaving the warehouse, Jack stopped by Russ Tuit's place and showed him the hard drives. Russ told him they were ruined way beyond repair. Maybe some NSA code-head geek could coax something out of them, but he doubted even that. The drives were useless.

Disappointed, he'd returned to the unit to check in on Gia and Vicky—no change. Normally that might be good news, but not in this case.

Then Jack set about tracking down someone who knew about the baby. He found that someone in the Records department. Wilma Dryden appeared about fifty and wore a blue skirt and blazer. She looked efficient and officious.

"Oh, Mister Westphalen," she said, looking up from her desk. "I'm so glad you stopped by. You're a hard man to find."

"I've been pulled in a lot of directions. Where's my baby?"

"I'm so sorry for your loss. She's in our morgue."

Jack closed his eyes as his throat constricted.

She… that meant the baby's name was Emma.

Emma… his… their Emma was in the morgue.

Jack knew lots about morgues—more than he wanted to. The thought of Emma in a bag in a cooler somewhere in the cellar sickened him.

"I suppose you've come to make arrangements for burial," Ms. Dryden said.

Burial? It had never crossed his mind.

"No… not really."

"Well, by law any miscarriage past the twentieth week must be buried or cremated."

Cremated… Emma? He wanted to scream.

"I can't think about that now. My… my wife's in a coma. I'd like to see our baby."

Wilma Dryden frowned. "Do you think that's a good idea? I mean, before the mortician has had a chance—"

"I don't know when that will be and I don't want to wait that long. I need to see her."

"Well, I don't—"

Jack spoke through his teeth. "I want to see her. Now."

"Really, Mister Westphalen, there's no need for—"

He slammed his hand on her desk.

"Now!"

She flinched and rolled her chair back.

He lowered his voice. "Please."