Carver

Chapter Three- Migraines

Sarah leaned heavily against the wall to the rear of the office, her back pressed against the wall and her booted right foot pressed against the crumbling bricks. She held her blazer tight around her torso with her left hand, her right hand down by her side with a half burned down cigarette between her fingers. She closed her eyes, tilted her head back and exhaled, cigarette smoke leaving her lips in wisps. She had managed to throw together some notes to try and build a picture of the kind of person she was looking for, but was limited by a lack of autopsy report, and she hated to admit it, another body. Sarah drifted away into her thoughts, the crisp air biting at her face. She was startled out of her peaceful bliss by the sound of her phone ringing. Some hot ash landed on her hand as she dropped her cigarette.
“Fuck” she mumbled, shaking out her now stinging hand and fishing her phone out of her pocket, “Carver.”
“Agent Carver? It’s Dr Coleman. I have completed the autopsy when you’re ready.” Sarah pressed a fist to her mouth as she tried to stifle a cough.
“Sure. Be right there.” Sarah huffed as she ended the call. Her hand was still stinging and now bore a red mark from the cigarette ash. She pushed her phone back into her pocket and kicked away the bucket that she had used to prop open the fire exit door, allowing it to swing shut behind her with a loud thud. Sarah paced through the corridor to return to the bullpen, relishing the darkness from lack of lighting in the ceiling, aside from the green LED of each emergency light indicating the direction of the fire exit. She ignored the eyes of the other agents that had started to filter into the bullpen, heading directly for her office. She needed to tackle her migraine before she visited the bright, cold room that was the morgue. Sarah dropped herself heavily into her chair and yanked her top drawer open. She rummaged around amongst the odd pieces of stationary. Her fingers brushed against the familiar texture of foil. As she retrieved the foil Tylenol strip, she found it was devoid of tablets.
“Ah shit,” she cursed, throwing the empty strip haphazardly towards her waste paper bin. The strip narrowly missed Luke who had quietly sidled up to the doorway, his hand poised ready to knock. He watched the strip sail past him and drop to the floor.
“Sarah?“ Sarah’s head snapped up at the sound of the voice, the piece of hair that she had tucked behind her ear falling over her face, “Still got that migraine?“ Sarah sat back in her chair, ignoring her still open drawer and pressed her hands over her eyes.
“Yeah. Just doesn’t want to fuck off. “
“How long have you had this one?“ Luke tilted his head, his curls brushing the collar of his shirt, his brow furrowed in concern under some stray curls that lay against his forehead.
“Umm...“ Sarah knitted her eyebrows together as she tried to push past the pain to focus her mind, “two, three days, maybe? I dunno. It seems never ending.“
“Have you seen a doctor?“ Sarah shook her head, instantly regretting the motion as it left her feeling like someone had a jackhammer to the left side of her head. She groaned and clasped her head tightly, “Don’t you think you should?“ Sarah wrenched her eyes open and glared at Luke. Luke held his hands up in surrender, realizing the expression that had spread across his senior’s face.
“Let’s just get to the ME,“ grumbled Sarah as she used her desk to push up to her feet. Her exit from her office was blocked by the slim figure of Luke as he put out his arm to stop her, his eyes sparkling with concern and kindness. She glared at him once more before barging past his arm.

The light that poured through the glass in the doors to the morgue was brighter than Sarah had anticipated, despite all the times she had been there previously. She pressed a hand to the glass as she brought her other hand to her stomach, closing her eyes to try and will away the wave of intense nausea that was creeping its way up her gullet. Her head throbbed with each pulse, making her wish her heart would stop if just for a minute to give her some respite. Sweat beaded her brow. A hand gently rested on her back, making her turn her head slightly and use her peripheral vision to see who it was. Luke stood just to her right with a small smile on his face. Sarah straightened and gritted her teeth, bracing herself for the sensory onslaught that she would endure once she entered the sterile room. A sensory onslaught it was indeed. The light from the surgical lamp above the occupied metal table felt like a needle through her eyes. The room was a contradiction of foul, overpowering odors; the smell of bleach mixed with putrid flesh. Sarah pressed her palm to her left eye to stem the pain. Dr Coleman was seated at his desk, scribbling down notes. He glanced up to see the two agents standing just inside the door. His graying hair was combed back away from his face. A bushy mustache adorned his top lip. Dr Coleman came to his feet and shook both agents' hands.
“Agent Carver, Agent Morrison” he greeted. He tugged a pair of nitrile gloves from the box on his desk and wriggled his aging hands into them. He turned on his heel and took the two short steps required to reach the side of the table. Patricia lay flat on her back against the cold metal table, arms at her sides, a white sheet pulled up to just above her breasts. The stitched cuts were just visible above the sheet. Her eyes were closed as if deep in sleep. Her skin was almost translucent with a sickly pallor settled over her now peaceful looking face. Her neck was supported by a small wooden block, allowing her hair to gather underneath her head. Dr Coleman cleared his throat as he stared at the agents, as if waiting for permission to speak. Sarah waved her hand, indicating for him to speak and that she was listening.
“Patricia Sparks. Thirty year old female. COD was exsanguination caused by a cut to the throat, severing the carotid artery and jugular vein. The laceration is smooth. One quick motion from right to left. Likely a butcher’s knife or carving knife used. There were some abrasions to both knees which had grit in them indicating that she fell to her knees at some point. “
“Any signs of sexual assault? “ asked Luke as he cast a quick eye to his colleague who had visibly paled. Dr Coleman appeared to catch Luke’s countenance as his eyes fell upon the red-haired woman who was squinting and trying to shield her eyes from the light whilst simultaneously gripping her stomach. Dr Coleman raised an eyebrow.
“No signs of sexual assault. No ligature marks noted. It appears as though she was chased for a short time before her killer gained on her and slashed her throat. Toxicology screening showed high levels of alcohol in her system, as well as some marijuana. Agent Carver? Are you okay? “ Sarah slowly nodded as she tried to meet his eyes.
“Migraine,” she managed to press out, biting her lip as another wave of pain and nausea assaulted her body. Dr Coleman nodded.
“Perhaps you should get some rest, agent. “
“He’s right, Sarah. You look like shit.” Sarah could only groan in response as she turned to make her way out of the room. Luke glanced at Dr Coleman and took a copy of the autopsy report from the medical examiner’s hands before turning on a dime and following Sarah out.

Sarah pressed her forehead to the cool glass of the passenger side window to the black federal issue SUV, her eyes closed. She breathed gently as though she was sleeping. Her skin was pale and beaded with sweat. Luke kept stealing glances at her, concerns etched into his face. Luke decided he would drive Sarah home and drop her car off later. The SUV came to a stop with a small screech outside of Sarah’s apartment building. Luke turned and gave Sarah’s shoulder a gentle shake to gain her attention. Sarah blearily opened her eyes and returned Luke’s gaze.
“Come on. You should go inside and get some rest. I’ll fetch your car over later. “ Sarah barely had the strength or energy to argue and simply took her bunch of keys out of her jacket pocket and unhooked her car key, handing it over with a sigh. Sarah unbuckled her seatbelt and numbly opened the car door. Her legs swung around the side and she slid to her feet. Luke watched as Sarah walked slowly to her apartment block and let herself in before putting the car into reverse and heading back to the office. Sarah sluggishly dragged herself up the stairs, a hand on the cold metal rail.

As she entered her apartment, Sarah was relieved to find all of the curtains closed to her sitting room with only a sliver of daylight showing around the sides. She locked the door behind her and threw the keys onto the unit beside the door. Sarah slumped onto the sofa and unzipped her boots, kicking them off and across the floor with a clatter. She removed her holstered gun from her belt and placed it on the glass coffee table before retrieving her credentials and setting them beside her gun. With a sigh, Sarah lay down on the sofa and rolled onto her side so that she was facing the back cushions. She closed her eyes as she wrapped her arms around her torso.

Sarah was not sure how long she had been asleep but was she awoken by a steady drumming in her skull. She groaned, curling a hand into a fist and pressing it to her forehead. She slowly rolled over onto her back and brought her arm across her eyes. Her hair had partially come loose of her ponytail and was hanging around her face. Sarah moved her arm away from her face and eased herself up into a sitting position. It was dark out, indicating that she had only slept for an hour or two. She tugged the hair elastic out of her hair, allowing her red tresses to tumble over her shoulders. She pulled the hair elastic over her hand to rest around her wrist. Sarah came to her feet and slid her blazer off her shoulders and slung it over the back of the sofa and took off her ID card and threw it to the table. Still half dazed, Sarah made her way into the kitchen, using the moonlight casting through the windows to guide her. She prepared a jug of coffee and set it to boil on the coffee machine before turning back to the sitting room and onwards to her bedroom. Sarah opened her drawers and retrieved an FBI t-shirt and a pair of plaid pyjama bottoms. She quickly changed into them, her blouse and dress trousers in a heap on the floor beside her laundry basket with her other laundry. Sarah gathered up the dirty laundry into the basket and picked it up before padding her way back through the sitting room to the kitchen. A glint caught her eye behind the front door on the mat- her car key. The incessant drilling continued in her head as she returned to the kitchen. The scent of freshly brewed coffee tickled Sarah’s nostrils as she set the basket down in front of the washing machine. She stuffed her dirty laundry into the machine and set it off to wash before pouring herself a mug of coffee and adding several teaspoons of sugar. Sarah returned to the sitting room and set her cup down on the table. She dropped onto the sofa and swept her hair away from her face with her hand as she sighed. She hated to admit that Luke was right. She would need to consult a doctor sooner or later. She had suffered with migraines on and off for years but they had grown in frequency and intensity over the past few weeks. Sarah sat back on the sofa and draped her right arm over her stomach and rested her left elbow on her arm. She nibbled her nails as she stared blankly into space.