The Winter Over(31)

Cass swallowed. “So, I get to . . . stay?”

“Stay?” He smiled quizzically. “For Pete’s sake. Was that why you tried to slink away when I found you? Cass, you’d have to cut your foot clean off to get eighty-sixed this late in the season. You’re staying.”

“Oh, God.” A wave of relief washed over her. “Thank you.”

Ayres grunted and stepped back from the cabinet with two boxes of bright purple medical wrap. He pulled a stool over to the table where she sat, took his place back at her feet, and began gently winding the spongy fabric around her ankle, starting at the joint and working his way up to her calf, then back down to encompass half of her foot.

Biting her lip, Cass watched, expecting the pain to blossom and swell, but the rigidity and extra support actually reduced the consistent hammering down to a dull throb. Ayres’s hands were sure and gentle and he had her entire foot wrapped in a few minutes.

He handed her the other box of medical wrap. “Swap the wrap every few days. Try not to get it wet or they’ll smell you coming from down the hall. Not too tight or you’ll be back in here for gangrene. Stay off your feet—”

She snorted.

He gave her a look. “—as much as possible. Which I know is unlikely. But do what you can to give that ankle a chance to heal or you’ll limp for the rest of the winter. Everyone down here winds up with a nickname eventually. You don’t want yours to be Gimpy.”

“Okay.” Cass leaned over and put her socks back on with difficulty. Ayres watched her struggle for a minute, then took pity on her and helped her get the sock over the wrapped foot.

“Do you have any painkillers?” he asked, then caught himself. “I mean, like aspirin. I don’t want to know if you’ve got anything stronger than that.”

“I brought a few bottles of over-the-counter stuff for bumps and bruises.” She smiled. “Nothing stronger, unless you count mint Irish cream liqueur.”

“I said painkillers, not rat poison.”

He fished a ring of keys out of his pocket, unlocked a steel cabinet in the corner of the room, and rummaged around for a moment before pulling out four or five square envelopes. “I’m going to give you some Percocet if you need it to help you sleep at night. And only at night, okay? Normally I’d say don’t operate any heavy machinery, but that’s what you do. So, take your OTCs to get through your shift and before you go to bed. Rip an envelope open if the pain gets too much to rest. Got it?”

She nodded, then hesitated. “Can I ask you something?”

His eyebrows shot up. “Please don’t tell me you’re pregnant.”

Cass flushed. “Of course not.”

“In that case, shoot.”

She paused, trying to put the words together. “When we brought Sheryl in. Did you . . . did you perform. I mean, did you—”

“Are you asking if I did an autopsy on Sheryl?”

She swallowed. “Yes.”

Ayres walked to a sink on the far side of the examination room, pulling off the latex gloves as he did so and chucking them into a biomed bin. Then, taking his time, he turned the water on, adjusting the hot and the cold just so, and began gently but thoroughly washing his hands.

Cass cleared her throat. “I’m not sure why I want to know, but I suppose it’s because no one’s really talked about it. Hanratty made that announcement, but other than that, everyone’s acting as if it didn’t happen. I don’t know if they’re in shock, but part of me doesn’t think it’s right to brush it under the rug. On the other hand, it wouldn’t do anyone any good if the entire base was freaking out about it, either . . .”

Ayres shut the water off and turned around as he patted his hands dry on a towel. “First of all, time was tight. I’ve done them and I’m fast, but you need at least twenty-four hours, sometimes more, to prep the body, perform the autopsy, make sure you have tissue samples for toxicology, then put everything back in place for safe transport back to McMurdo and eventually the States. Sorry if that’s a little graphic, but that’s the way it is. There’s no halfway with it. I had just enough time, but very little wiggle room.”

Cass was silent.

Ayres leaned back against the sink and tucked his hands into his pockets. “On the other hand, you get the best information on cause of death and the like right after the event that caused the death. So, even if an autopsy can’t be performed for some reason, it’s still a good idea to do an exam.”

He stopped talking and simply watched Cass’s face. When he didn’t go on, she raised her eyebrows. “And . . . what did you find when you examined her?”

Ayres continued to look back at her impassively.

“Did you examine Sheryl?”

He pursed his lips.

“Stomp your foot once for yes, twice for no.”

That got a slight grin that quickly melted away. Ayres pushed off from the sink and stuck his head out of the room to check the hall, then took his place against the sink again. “Did you ever play Twenty Questions as a kid?”

“We were more into I Never, but I know the concept.”

“Why don’t we try my game. Even if you never played, the concept is pretty simple. Ask me yes or no questions. If you don’t get your answer in twenty, you lose.”