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Harris shook his head. “No. You’re not pulling me down this rabbit hole. Go home, go to sleep, let it go.”
“You know I can’t do that, Damien.”
Harris sighed and rubbed his head. He looked wistfully at the exit.
“Go,” Lena said. “It’s all right.”
“Fuck you,” he replied, walking into her office and shutting the door. He grabbed the chair on the other side of her desk and pulled it around next to hers, then plopped down. “What are we looking at?”
“Lila Kensington’s medical record. Or rather, the notes I took when I read through it. What do you see here?”
Harris skimmed the page. "BMI forty-fifth percentile. Mild eczema on the upper arms. Increased opioid tolerance due to overuse of prescription-strength oxycodone. So she was a drug user in the early stages of addiction."
“Yes, but look at the BMI again. Forty-fifth percentile.”
“Okay? Why does that matter?”
“Because the death was ruled an accident due to complications from bulimia nervosa. She ate a ton of food, threw it all up, then walked outside, passed out due to a severe drop in blood pressure, then fell and hit her head.”
“Bulimic people can present a healthy BMI.”
“Not while also presenting normal heart function and cholesterol and glucose levels within acceptable ranges.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying the ME lied.”
“Maybe he didn’t want to embarrass the family. Drug overdose carries stigma, even in the day and age of ‘all my poor choices are a disease, and I shouldn’t be held responsible.’”
“Exactly.”
Harris sighed and rubbed his temples again. “I hate when you do this, Lena. What are you trying to say?”
“I’m saying that the ME lied.”
Harris lifted his eyes to the ceiling as though silently begging God to save him from this annoying woman. “And your point?”
“My point is it raises questions. Why did the ME lie?”
“And my point is that she didn't want to embarrass the Kensington. Julian's a star child right now. Scimitar Analytics is the fastest-growing tech firm in the nation and Julian's practically a shoo-in for city council and a definite shoo-in for mayor in two years if he makes it. Embarrassing a family like that carries consequences, and Dr. Basler probably didn't want the hassle."
“Exactly. And one wonders what led Basler to that conclusion.”
“You mean who, and the answer is Julian Kensington. You also mean, ‘Did Julian pressure Basler to that conclusion because he didn’t want us looking too hard at him and his wife for murder?’ The answer is probably yes. The answer is also, we lose our badges immediately if we make this something the Chief has to deal with.”
“A kid died, Damien.”
“Kids die every day, Lena. Do we throw our careers away over this one, or do we stay and help the ones we can?”
Lena looked back at the screen and tapped her desk. Harris was being an asshole, but he did have a point. If she chased this, she could end up getting both of them fired, and if both of them were fired, then it was a certainty that a lot of criminals were going to get away with a lot of shit before the department found someone to replace them.
But if she didn’t chase this, then Lena Kensington’s murderer would be the Mayor of Los Angeles in two years.
“That kid, Nathan, the one who came back to talk to me.”
“Yeah, I remember him. That was only yesterday.”
“He didn’t take kindly to me probing him.”
