Free Angel of Mercy by Andrew Neiderman

kidney stones and gallstones he found in the corpses he dissected. He kept them in jelly jars on the shelves in his bedroom, each jar labeled with the age and sex of the deceased. His mother was upset about it, but she rarely went into his room anyway. In fact, other than his mother, no woman had ever been in Corpsy’s room.
    Women, unless they were stone-cold dead, terrified him. Invariably, he would lower his eyes when a woman spoke to him, unless that woman was someone in authority, especially someone who wore a uniform.
    The uniform had the effect of neutralizing her sexuality and emphasizing her authority. He had deep respect for authority, which was why he was obsessive about obeying traffic laws.
    But Faye Sullivan had been different. She had been the first woman in uniform who had touched him deeply, maybe because he had seen something in her eyes, a second set of eyes, the eyes of the woman beneath the white dress and within the white slip and white panties and white bra; the woman who pulled on those white socks and stepped into those heavy black shoes. He heard a warmer tone under the orders she snapped to underlings and he saw another pair of hips swing under the skirt of her uniform when she marched down shiny corridors.
    He had learned her schedule, and when he, was able to, he would sit in the parking lot by the hospital and wait for her to arrive just so he could watch her get out of her car and walk to the entrance. Often he was there at the end of her tour of duty to watch her emerge and get into her car. He had done this for weeks before gathering up enough nerve to say his first words to her, which were merely, “Good morning.”
    She returned the greeting with a perfunctory smile, but it was enough to encourage him. He decided to follow her home one day and that was when he discovered she had a twin sister. At first, that confused him, threw him into a fluster because he was both excited and discouraged by the revelation. He had been fantasizing about Faye, imagining that she was really just as lonely as he was, and just as particular about whom she associated with and befriended. That was why she was a loner at work and why the others resented her.
    Just as they resented him.
    But a sister… this meant she did have someone close, someone in whom to confide her troubles, her secrets, her dreams and fears. And a twin sister to boot! They shared more; they had to.
    However, when he saw Susie hobble down the stairway and he realized she had a handicap, his ambitions were once again kindled. There was a real loner in this family, someone with whom he could commune, someone who would understand his deeper feelings.
    But he didn’t try to make any contact with her that day.
    Always the gentleman and always respectful of authority, he finally gathered his nerve and approached Faye Sullivan while she was alone in the nurse’s quarters at the hospital. He had waited for her to have the sort of patient whom he knew would not be a constant worry. He studied her pattern and then, when he felt confident, he approached.
    “Excuse me,” he began. She looked up from her magazine with surprise, but she did not smile. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple almost freezing in place and refusing to bob. “My name is Cor… Arnold Ratner. I work in pathology.”
    Faye folded her magazine and sat back, her eyes becoming small and fixed, the pupils darkening. “Yes?”
    “Urn… I’ve said hello to you on a number of occasions and you’ve returned my greeting,” he continued.
    Faye looked as if she didn’t remember, but she nodded.
    “I know you’re not on staff here, that you’re only special, but I thought since we both work at the hospital…”
    “What?” she demanded with growing impatience.
    “I… I just thought I could come by one day and say hello.”
    “Come by? Come by where?”
    “Your home… your apartment. The truth is,” he continued, finally building up enough courage to say it, “I’d