{"id":3182,"date":"2026-01-03T23:11:30","date_gmt":"2026-01-03T23:11:30","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/scarpetta-15-cornwell-patricia\/"},"modified":"2026-01-03T23:11:30","modified_gmt":"2026-01-03T23:11:30","slug":"scarpetta-15-cornwell-patricia","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/scarpetta-15-cornwell-patricia\/","title":{"rendered":"Scarpetta 15 – Cornwell, Patricia"},"content":{"rendered":"
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Book Preview<\/h3>\n
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Book of the Dead<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Kay Scarpetta (15)<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

by Patricia Cornwell<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Rome<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Water splashing. A gray mosaic tile tub sunk deep into a terracotta floor.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Water pours slowly from an old brass spout, and darkness pours through a window. On the other side of old, wavy glass is the piazza, and the fountain, and the night.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>She sits quietly in water, and the water is very cold, with melting ice cubes in it, and there is little in her eyes \u2013 nothing much there anymore. At first, her eyes were like hands reaching out to him, begging him to save her. Now her eyes are the bruised blue of dusk. Whatever was in them has almost left. Soon she will sleep.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cHere,\u201d he says, handing her a tumbler that was handblown in Murano and now is filled with vodka.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>He is fascinated by parts of her that have never seen the sun. They are pale like limestone, and he turns the spigot almost off, and the water is a trickle now, and he watches her rapid breathing and hears the chattering of her teeth. Her white breasts float beneath the surface of the water, delicate like white flowers. Her nipples, hard from the cold, are tight pink buds. Then he thinks of pencils. Of chewing off nubby pink erasers when he was in school, and telling his father and sometimes his mother that he didn\u2019t need erasers because he didn\u2019t make mistakes. When in truth, he liked to chew. He couldn\u2019t help it, and that also was the truth.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cYou\u2019ll remember my name,\u201d he says to her.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cI won\u2019t,\u201d she says. \u201cI can forget it.\u201d Chattering.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>He knows why she says it: If she forgets his name, her destiny will be rethought like a bad battle plan.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cWhat is it?\u201d he asks. \u201cTell me my name.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cI don\u2019t remember.\u201d Crying, shaking.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cSay it,\u201d he says, looking at her tan arms, pebbly with goose bumps, the blond hair on them erect, her young breasts and the darkness between her legs underwater.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cWill.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cAnd the rest of it?\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cRambo.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cAnd you think that\u2019s amusing,\u201d he says, naked, sitting on the lid of the toilet.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>She shakes her head vigorously.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Lying. She made fun of him when he told her his name. She laughed and said Rambo is make-believe, a movie name. He said it\u2019s Swedish. She said he isn\u2019t Swedish. He said the name is Swedish. Where did she think it came from? It\u2019s a real name. \u201cRight,\u201d she said. \u201cLike Rocky,\u201d she said, laughing. \u201cLook it up on the Internet,\u201d he said. \u201cIt\u2019s a real name,\u201d he said, and he didn\u2019t like that he had to explain his name. This was two days ago, and he didn\u2019t hold it against her, but he was aware of it. He forgave her because despite what the world says, she suffers unbearably.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cKnowing my name will be an echo,\u201d he says. \u201cIt makes no difference, not in the least. Just a sound already said.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cI would never say it.\u201d Panic.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Her lips and nails are blue, and she shivers uncontrollably. She stares. He tells her to drink more, and she doesn\u2019t dare refuse him. The slightest act of insubordination, and she knows what happens. Even one small scream, and she knows what happens. He sits calmly on the lid of the toilet, his legs splayed so she can see his excitement, and fear it. She doesn\u2019t beg anymore or tell him to have his way with her, if that\u2019s the reason she\u2019s his hostage. She doesn\u2019t say this anymore because she knows what happens when she insults him and implies that if he had a way it would be with her. Meaning she wouldn\u2019t give it willingly and want it.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cYou realize I asked you nicely,\u201d he says.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cI don\u2019t know.\u201d Teeth chattering.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cYou do know. I asked you to thank me. That\u2019s all I asked, and I was nice to you. I asked you nicely, then you had to do this,\u201d he says. \u201cYou had to make me do this. You see\u201d \u2013 he gets up and watches his nakedness in the mirror over the smooth marble sink \u2013 \u201cyour suffering makes me do this,\u201d his nakedness in the mirror says. \u201cAnd I don\u2019t want to do this. So you\u2019ve hurt me. Do you understand you\u2019ve critically hurt me by making me do this?\u201d his nakedness in the mirror says.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>She says she understands, and her eyes scatter like flying shards of glass as he opens the toolbox, and her scattered gaze fixes on the box cutters and knives and fine-tooth saws. He lifts out a small bag of sand and sets it on the edge of the sink. He pulls out ampules of lavender glue and sets them down, too.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cI\u2019ll do anything you want. Give you anything you want.\u201d She has said this repeatedly.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>He has ordered her not to say it again. But she just did.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>His hands dip into the water, and the coldness of the water bites him, and he grabs her ankles and lifts her up. He holds her up by her cold, tan legs with their cold, white feet and feels her terror in her panicking muscles as he holds her cold ankles tight. He holds her a little longer than last time, and she struggles and flails and thrashes violently, cold water splashing loudly. He lets go. She gasps and coughs and makes strangling cries. She doesn\u2019t complain. She\u2019s learned not to complain \u2013 it took a while, but she\u2019s learned it. She\u2019s learned all of this is for her own good and is grateful for a sacrifice that will change his life \u2013 not hers, but his \u2013 in a way that isn\u2019t good. Wasn\u2019t good. Can never be good. She should be grateful for his gift.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>He picks up the trash bag he filled with ice from the ice maker in the bar and pours the last of it in the tub and she looks at him, tears running down her face. Grief. The dark edges of it showing.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cWe used to hang them from the ceiling over there,\u201d he says. \u201cKick them in the sides of their knees, over and over. Over there. All of us coming into the small room and kicking the sides of their knees. It\u2019s excruciatingly painful and, of course, crippling, and, of course, some of them died. That\u2019s nothing compared to other things I saw over there. I didn\u2019t work in that prison, you see. But I didn\u2019t need to, because there was plenty of that type of behavior to go around. What people don\u2019t understand is it wasn\u2019t stupid to film any of it. To photograph it. It was inevitable. You have to. If you don\u2019t, it\u2019s as if it never happened. So people take pictures. They show them to others. It only takes one. One person to see it. Then the whole world does.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>She glances at the camera on the marble-top table against the stucco wall.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cThey deserved it anyway, didn\u2019t they?\u201d he says. \u201cThey forced us to be something we weren\u2019t, so whose fault was it? Not ours.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>She nods. She shivers, and her teeth chatter.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cI didn\u2019t always participate,\u201d he says. \u201cI did watch. At first it was difficult, perhaps traumatic. I was against it, but the things they did to us. And because of what they did, we were forced to do things back, so it was their fault that they forced us, and I know you see that.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>She nods and cries and shakes.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cThe roadside bombs. Kidnapping. Much more than you hear about,\u201d he says. \u201cYou get used to it. Just like you\u2019re getting used to the cold water, aren\u2019t you?\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>She isn\u2019t used to it, only numb and on her way to hypothermia. By now her head pounds and her heart feels as if it will explode. He hands her the vodka, and she drinks.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cI\u2019m going to open the window,\u201d he says. \u201cSo you can hear Bernini\u2019s fountain. I\u2019ve heard it much of my life. The night\u2019s perfect. You should see the stars.\u201d He opens the window and looks at the night, the stars, the fountain of four rivers, and the piazza. Empty at this hour. \u201cYou won\u2019t scream,\u201d he says.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>She shakes her head and her chest heaves and she shivers uncontrollably.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cYou\u2019re thinking about your friends. I know that. Certainly they\u2019re thinking about you. That\u2019s too bad. And they aren\u2019t here. They aren\u2019t anywhere to be seen.\u201d He looks at the deserted piazza again and shrugs. \u201cWhy would they be here now? They\u2019ve left. Long ago.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Her nose runs and tears spill and she shakes. The energy in her eyes \u2013 it\u2019s not what it was when he met her, and he resents her for ruining who she was to him. Earlier, much earlier, he spoke Italian to her because it changed him into the stranger he needed to be. Now he speaks English because it no longer makes a difference. She glances at his excitement. Her glances at his excitement bounce against it like a moth against a lamp. He feels her there. She fears what\u2019s there. But not as much as she fears everything else \u2013 the water, the tools, the sand, the glue. She doesn\u2019t comprehend the thick black belt coiled on the very old tile floor, and she should fear it most of all.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>He picks it up and tells her it\u2019s a primitive urge to beat people who can\u2019t defend themselves. Why? She doesn\u2019t answer. Why? She stares at him in terror, and the light in her eyes is dull but crazed, like a mirror shattering right in front of him. He tells her to stand, and she does, shakily, her knees almost collapsing. She stands in the frigid water and he turns off the spout. Her body reminds him of a bow with a taut string because she\u2019s flexible and powerful. Water trickles down her skin as she stands before him.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cTurn away from me,\u201d he says. \u201cDon\u2019t worry. I\u2019m not going to beat you with the belt. I don\u2019t do that.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Water quietly laps in the tub as she turns away from him, facing old, cracked stucco and a closed shutter.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cNow I need you to kneel in the water,\u201d he says. \u201cAnd look at the wall. Don\u2019t look at me.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>She kneels, facing the wall, and he picks up the belt and slides the end of it through the buckle.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Chapter 1<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span><\/span><\/span>Ten days later. April 27, 2007. A Friday afternoon.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Inside the virtual-reality theater are twelve of Italy\u2019s most powerful law enforcers and politicians, whose names, in the main, forensic pathologist Kay Scarpetta can\u2019t keep straight. The only non-Italians are herself and forensic psychologist Benton Wesley, both consultants for International Investigative Response (IIR), a special branch of the European Network of Forensic Science Institutes (ENFSI). The Italian government is in a very delicate position.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Nine days ago, American tennis star Drew Martin was murdered while on vacation, her nude, mutilated body found near Piazza Navona, in the heart of Rome\u2019s historic district. The case is an international sensation, details about the sixteen-year-old\u2019s life and death replayed nonstop on television, the crawls at the bottom of the screen doing just that \u2013 crawling by slowly and tenaciously, repeating the same details the anchors and experts are saying.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cSo, Dr. Scarpetta, let\u2019s clarify, because there seems to be much confusion. According to you, she was dead by two or three o\u2019clock that afternoon,\u201d says Captain Ottorino Poma, a medico legale in the Arma dei Carabinieri, the military police heading the investigation.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cThat\u2019s not according to me,\u201d she says, her patience beginning to fray. \u201cThat\u2019s according to you.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>He frowns in the low lighting. \u201cI was so sure it was you, just minutes ago, talking about her stomach contents and alcohol level. And the fact they indicate she was dead within hours of when she was seen last by her friends.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cI didn\u2019t say she was dead by two or three o\u2019clock. I believe it is you who continues to say that, Captain Poma.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>At a young age he already has a widespread reputation, and not an entirely good one. When Scarpetta first met him two years ago in the Hague at the ENFSI\u2019s annual meeting, he was derisively dubbed the Designer Doctor and described as extraordinarily conceited and argumentative. He is handsome \u2013 magnificent, really \u2013 with a taste for beautiful women and dazzling clothes, and today he is wearing a uniform of midnight blue with broad red stripes and bright silver embellishments, and polished black leather boots. When he swept into the theater this morning, he was wearing a red-lined cape.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>He sits directly in front of Scarpetta, front row center, and rarely takes his eyes off her. On his right is Benton Wesley, who is silent most of the time. Everyone is masked by stereoscopic glasses that are synchronized with the Crime Scene Analysis System, a brilliant innovation that has made the Polizia Scientifica Italiana\u2019s Unit\u00e0 per l\u2019Analisi del Crimine Violento the envy of law enforcement agencies worldwide.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cI suppose we need to go through this again so you completely understand my position,\u201d Scarpetta says to Captain Poma, who now rests his chin on his hand as if he is having an intimate conversation with her over a glass of wine. \u201cHad she been killed at two or three o\u2019clock that afternoon, then when her body was found at approximately eight-thirty the following morning, she would have been dead at least seventeen hours. Her livor mortis, rigor mortis, and algor mortis are inconsistent with that.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>She uses a laser pointer to direct attention to the three-dimensional muddy construction site projected on the wall-size screen. It\u2019s as if they are standing in the middle of the scene, staring at Drew Martin\u2019s mauled, dead body and the litter and earthmoving equipment around it. The red dot of the laser moves along the left shoulder, the left buttock, the left leg and its bare foot. The right buttock is gone, as is a portion of her right thigh, as if she had been attacked by a shark.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cHer lividity\u2026\u201d Scarpetta starts to say.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cOnce again I apologize. My English isn\u2019t so good as yours. I\u2019m not sure of this word,\u201d Captain Poma says.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cI\u2019ve used it before.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cI wasn\u2019t sure of it then.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Laughter. Other than the translator, Scarpetta is the only woman present. She and the translator don\u2019t find the captain amusing, but the men do. Except Benton, who hasn\u2019t smiled once this day.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cDo you know the Italian for this word?\u201d Captain Poma asks Scarpetta.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cHow about the language of ancient Rome?\u201d Scarpetta says. \u201cLatin. Since most medical terminology is rooted in Latin.\u201d She doesn\u2019t say it rudely, but is no-nonsense because she\u2019s well aware that his English becomes awkward only when it suits him.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>His 3-D glasses stare at her, reminding her of Zorro. \u201cItalian, please,\u201d he says to her. \u201cI never was so good in Latin.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cI\u2019ll give you both. In Italian, \u2018livid\u2019 is livido, which means bruised. \u2018Mortis\u2019 is morte, or death. Livor mortis suggests an appearance of bruising that occurs after death.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cIt\u2019s helpful when you speak Italian,\u201d he says. \u201cAnd you do it so well.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>She doesn\u2019t intend to do it here, although she speaks enough Italian to get by. She prefers English during these professional discussions because nuances are tricky, and the translator intercepts every word anyway. This difficulty with language, along with political pressure, stress, and Captain Poma\u2019s relentless and enigmatic antics, add to what already is rather much a disaster that has nothing to do with any of these things. But rather, the killer in this case defies precedents and the usual profiles. He confounds them. Even the science has become a maddening source of debate \u2013 it seems to defy them, lie to them, forcing Scarpetta to remind herself and everyone else that science never tells untruths. It doesn\u2019t make mistakes. It doesn\u2019t deliberately lead them astray or taunt them.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>This is lost on Captain Poma. Or perhaps he pretends. Perhaps he isn\u2019t serious when he refers to Drew\u2019s dead body as uncooperative and argumentative, as if he has a relationship with it and they are squabbling. He asserts that her postmortem changes may say one thing, and her blood alcohol and stomach contents say another, but contrary to what Scarpetta believes, food and drink should always be trusted. He is serious, at least about that.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cWhat Drew ate and drank is revealing of truth.\u201d He repeats what he said in his impassioned opening statement earlier today.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cRevealing of a truth, yes. But not your truth,\u201d Scarpetta replies, in a tone more polite than what she says. \u201cYour truth is a misinterpretation.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cI think we\u2019ve been over this,\u201d Benton says from the shadows of the front row. \u201cI think Dr. Scarpetta has made herself perfectly clear.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Captain Poma\u2019s 3-D glasses \u2013 and rows of other 3-D glasses \u2013 remain fixed on her. \u201cI regret if I bore you with my reexamination, Dr. Wesley, but we need to find sense in this. So please indulge me. April seventeenth, Drew ate very bad lasagna and drank four glasses of very bad Chianti between eleven-thirty and twelve-thirty at a tourist trattoria near the Spanish Steps. She paid the bill and left, then at the Piazza di Spagna parted company with her two friends, who she promised to rejoin at Piazza Navona within the hour. She never appeared. That much we know to be true. What remains a mystery is everything else.\u201d His thick-framed glasses look at Scarpetta, then he turns in his seat and speaks to the rows behind him. \u201cPartly because our esteemed colleague from the United States now says she\u2019s convinced Drew didn\u2019t die shortly after lunch or even that same day.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cI\u2019ve been saying this all along. Once again, I\u2019ll explain why. Since it seems you are confused,\u201d Scarpetta says.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cWe need to move on,\u201d Benton says.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>But they can\u2019t move on. Captain Poma is so respected by the Italians, is such a celebrity, he can do whatever he wants. In the press he is called the Sherlock Holmes of Rome, even though he is a physician, not a detective. Everyone, including the Comandante Generale of the Carabinieri, who sits in a back corner and listens more than he speaks, seems to have forgotten that.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cUnder normal circumstances,\u201d Scarpetta says, \u201cDrew\u2019s food would have been fully digested several hours after she ate lunch, and her alcohol level certainly wouldn\u2019t have been as high as the point-two determined by toxicological testing. So, yes, Captain Poma, her stomach contents and toxicology suggest she died shortly after lunch. But her livor mortis and rigor mortis suggest \u2013 rather emphatically, let me add \u2013 that she died possibly twelve to fifteen hours after she ate lunch at the trattoria, and these postmortem artifacts are the ones we should pay the most attention to.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cSo here we are. Back to lividity.\u201d He sighs. \u201cThis word I have so much trouble with. Please explain it again, since I seem to have so much trouble with what you call postmortem artifacts. As if we are archaeologists digging up ruins.\u201d Captain Poma\u2019s chin rests on his hand again.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cLividity, livor mortis, postmortem hypostasis, all the same thing. When you die, your circulation quits and the blood begins to accumulate in the small vessels due to gravity, rather much like sediment settling in a sunken ship.\u201d She feels Benton\u2019s 3-D glasses looking at her. She dares not look at him. He isn\u2019t himself.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cContinue, please.\u201d Captain Poma underlines something several times on his legal pad.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cIf the body remains in a certain position long enough after death, the blood will settle accordingly \u2013 a postmortem artifact we call livor mortis,\u201d Scarpetta explains. \u201cEventually, livor mortis becomes fixed, or set, turning that area of the body purplish-red, with patterns of blanching from surfaces pressing against it or constricting it, such as tight clothing. Can we see the autopsy photograph, please?\u201d She checks a list on the podium. \u201cNumber twenty-one.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>The wall fills with Drew\u2019s body on a steel table in the morgue at Tor Vergata University. She is facedown. Scarpetta moves the laser\u2019s red dot over the back, over the purplish-red areas and blanching caused by lividity. The shocking wounds that look like dark red craters she has yet to address.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cNow, if you\u2019ll put the scene up, please. The one that shows her being placed into the body bag,\u201d she says.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>The three-dimensional photograph of the construction site fills the wall again, but this time there are investigators in white Tyvek suits, gloves, and shoe covers lifting Drew\u2019s limp, naked body into a sheet-lined black pouch on top of a stretcher. Around them, other investigators hold up additional sheets to block the view from the curious and the paparazzi at the perimeter of the scene.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cCompare this to the photograph you just saw. By the time she was autopsied some eight hours after she was found, her lividity was almost completely set,\u201d Scarpetta says. \u201cBut here at the scene, it\u2019s apparent that lividity was in its early stages.\u201d The red dot moves over pinkish areas on Drew\u2019s back. \u201cRigor was in its early stages as well.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cYou rule out the early onset of rigor mortis due to a cadervic spasm? For example, if she strenuously exerted herself right before death? Maybe she struggled with him? Since you\u2019ve not mentioned this phenomenon so far?\u201d Captain Poma underlines something on his legal pad.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cThere\u2019s no reason to talk about a cadervic spasm,\u201d Scarpetta says. Why don\u2019t you throw in the kitchen sink? she\u2019s tempted to ask. \u201cWhether she strenuously exerted herself or not,\u201d she says, \u201cshe wasn\u2019t fully rigorous when she was found, so she didn\u2019t have a cadervic spasm\u2026.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cUnless rigor came and went.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cImpossible, since it became fully fixed in the morgue. Rigor doesn\u2019t come and go and then come again.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>The translator suppresses a smile as she relays this in Italian, and several people laugh.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cYou can see from this\u201d \u2013 Scarpetta points the laser at Drew\u2019s body being lifted onto the stretcher \u2013 \u201cher muscles certainly aren\u2019t stiff. They\u2019re quite flexible. I estimate she\u2019d been dead less than six hours when she was found, possibly considerably less.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cYou\u2019re a world expert. How can you be so vague?\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cBecause we don\u2019t know where she\u2019d been, what temperatures or conditions she was exposed to before she was left in the construction site. Body temperature, rigor mortis, livor mortis can vary greatly from case to case and individual to individual.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cBased on the condition of the body, are you saying it\u2019s impossible she was murdered soon after she had lunch with her friends? Perhaps while she was walking alone to Piazza Navona to join them?\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cI don\u2019t believe that\u2019s what happened.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cThen once again, please. How do you explain her undigested food and point-two alcohol level? They imply she died soon after she ate lunch with her friends \u2013 not some fifteen, sixteen hours later.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cIt\u2019s possible not long after she left her friends, she resumed drinking alcohol and was so terrified and stressed, her digestion quit.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cWhat? Now you\u2019re suggesting she spent time with her killer, possibly as much as ten, twelve, fifteen hours with him \u2013 that she was drinking with him?\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cHe might have forced her to drink, to keep her impaired and easier to control. As in drugging somebody.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cSo he forced her to drink alcohol, perhaps all afternoon, all night, and into the early morning, and she was so frightened her food didn\u2019t digest? That\u2019s what you\u2019re offering us as a plausible explanation?\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cI\u2019ve seen it before,\u201d Scarpetta says.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>The animated construction site after dark.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Surrounding shops, pizzerias, and ristorantes are lit up and crowded. Cars and motor scooters are parked on the sides of the streets, on the sidewalks. The rumble of traffic and the sounds of footsteps and voices fill the theater.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Suddenly, the lighted windows go dark. Then silence.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>The sound of a car, and the shape of it. A four-door black Lancia parks at the corner of Via di Pasquino and Via dell\u2019Anima. The driver\u2019s door opens and an animated man gets out. He is dressed in gray. His face has no features and, like his hands, is gray, from which everyone in the theater is to infer that the killer hasn\u2019t been assigned an age, race, or any physical characteristics. For the sake of simplicity, the killer is referred to as male. The gray man opens the trunk and lifts out a body wrapped in a blue fabric with a pattern that includes the colors red, gold, and green.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cThe sheet wrapped around her is based on silk fibers collected from the body and in the mud under it,\u201d Captain Poma says.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Benton Wesley says, \u201cFibers found all over the body. Including in the hair, on the hands, the feet. Certainly an abundance of them were adhering to her wounds. From this we can conclude she was completely wrapped from head to toe. So, yes, obviously we have to consider a large piece of colorful silk fabric. Perhaps a sheet, perhaps a curtain\u2026\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cWhat\u2019s your point?\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cI have two of them: We shouldn\u2019t assume it was a sheet, because we shouldn\u2019t assume anything. Also, it\u2019s possible he wrapped her in something that was indigenous to where he lives or works, or where he held her hostage.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cYes, yes.\u201d Captain Poma\u2019s glasses remain fixed on the scene filling the wall. \u201cAnd we know there are carpet fibers which are also consistent with carpet fibers in the trunk of a 2005 Lancia, which is consistent also with what was described driving away from that area at approximately six a.m. The witness I mentioned. A woman in a nearby apartment got up to see about her cat because it was \u2013 what is the word\u2026?\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cYowling? Meowing?\u201d the translator says.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cShe got up because of her cat yowling and happened to look out her widow to see a dark luxury sedan driving away from the construction site as if in no hurry. She said it turned right on dell\u2019Anima, a one-way street. Continue, please.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>The animation resumes. The gray man lifts the colorfully wrapped body out of the car trunk and carries it to a nearby aluminum catwalk that is barricaded only by a rope, which he steps over. He carries the body down a wooden plank that leads into the site. He places the body to one side of the plank, in the mud, and squats in the dark and quickly unwraps a figure that turns into the dead body of Drew Martin. This is no animation, but a three-dimensional photograph. One can see her clearly \u2013 her famous face, the savage wounds on her slender, athletic, naked body. The gray man balls up the colorful wrapping and returns to his car. He drives off at a normal rate of speed.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cWe believe he did carry the body instead of dragging it,\u201d Captain Poma says. \u201cBecause these fibers were only on the body and on the soil beneath it. There were no others, and although this isn\u2019t proof, it certainly does indicate he didn\u2019t drag her. Let me remind you, this scene has been mapped with the laser mapping system, and the perspective you\u2019re seeing and the position of objects and the body are completely precise. Obviously, only people or objects that weren\u2019t videotaped or photographed \u2013 such as the killer and his car \u2013 are animated.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cHow heavy was she?\u201d the minister of the interior asks from the back row.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Scarpetta replies that Drew Martin weighed one hundred and thirty pounds, then converts that to kilograms. \u201cHe had to be reasonably strong,\u201d she adds.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Animation resumes. Silence and the construction site in early-morning light. The sound of rain. Windows in the area remain dark, the businesses closed. No traffic. Then the whine of a motorcycle. Getting louder. A red Ducati appears on Via di Pasquino, the rider an animated figure in a rain slicker and a full-face helmet. He turns right on dell\u2019Anima and suddenly stops, and the bike drops to the pavement with a loud thud, and the engine quits. The startled rider steps over his bike and hesitantly steps onto the aluminum catwalk, his boots loud on metal. The dead body below him in the mud looks more shocking, more gruesome, because it\u2019s a three-dimensional photograph juxtaposed to the motorcyclist\u2019s rather stilted animation.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cIt\u2019s now almost half past eight, the weather, as you can see, overcast and raining,\u201d Captain Poma says. \u201cPlease move ahead to Professor Fiorani at the scene. That would be image fourteen. And now Dr. Scarpetta, you can, if you will, examine the body at the scene with the good professor, who isn\u2019t here this afternoon, I\u2019m sorry to say, because, can you guess? He\u2019s at the Vatican. A cardinal died.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Benton stares at the screen behind Scarpetta, and it knots her stomach that he is so unhappy and won\u2019t look at her.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>New images \u2013 video recordings in 3-D \u2013 fill the screen. Blue lights strobing. Police cars and a midnight-blue Carabinieri crime scene van. More Carabinieri with machine guns guarding the perimeter of the construction site. Plainclothes investigators inside the cordoned-off area, collecting evidence, taking photographs. The sounds of camera shutters and low voices and crowds on the streets. A police helicopter thud-thuds overhead. The professor \u2013 the most esteemed forensic pathologist in Rome \u2013 is covered in white Tyvek that is muddy. Close on, his point of view: Drew\u2019s body. It\u2019s so real in the stereoscopic glasses, it\u2019s bizarre. Scarpetta feels as if she can touch Drew\u2019s flesh and her gaping dark red wounds that are smeared with mud and glistening wet from the rain. Her long blond hair is wet and clings to her face. Her eyes are tightly shut and bulging beneath the lids.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cDr. Scarpetta,\u201d Captain Poma says. \u201cYou may examine her, please. Tell us what you see. You have, of course, studied Professor Fiorani\u2019s report, but as you look at the body itself in three-dimension and are placed at the scene with it, please give us your own opinion. We won\u2019t criticize you if you disagree with Professor Fiorani\u2019s findings.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Who\u2019s considered as infallible as the Pope he embalmed several years earlier.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>The laser\u2019s red dot moves where Scarpetta points, and she says, \u201cThe position of the body. On the left side, hands folded under the chin, legs slightly bent. A position I believe is deliberate. Dr. Wesley?\u201d She looks at Benton\u2019s thick glasses looking past her, at the screen. \u201cThis is a good time for you to comment.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cDeliberate. The body was positioned by the killer.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cAs if she\u2019s praying, perhaps?\u201d says the chief of the state police.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cWhat was her religion?\u201d asks the deputy director of the Criminal Police National Directorate.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>A peppering of questions and conjectures from the barely lit theater.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cRoman Catholic.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cShe didn\u2019t practice it, I understand.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cNot much.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cPerhaps some religious connection?\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cYes, I wonder that, too. The construction site is so close to Sant\u2019Agnese in Agone.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Captain Poma explains, \u201cFor those unfamiliar\u201d \u2013 he looks at Benton \u2013 \u201cSaint Agnes was a martyr tortured and murdered at the age of twelve because she wouldn\u2019t marry a pagan like me.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Peals of laughter. A discussion about the murder having a religious significance. But Benton says no.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cThere\u2019s sexual degradation,\u201d he says. \u201cShe\u2019s displayed, and she\u2019s nude and dumped in plain view in the very area where she was supposed to meet her friends. The killer wanted her found, he wanted to shock people. Religion isn\u2019t the overriding motive. Sexual excitement is.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cYet we found no evidence of rape.\u201d This said by the head of the Carabinieri forensic labs.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>He goes on to say through the translator that it appears the killer left no seminal fluid, no blood, no saliva, unless it was washed away by rain. But DNA from two different sources was collected from under her fingernails. The profiles have proved useless so far because, unfortunately, he explains, the Italian government doesn\u2019t allow DNA samples to be taken from criminals, as it\u2019s considered a violation of their human rights. The only profiles that can be entered into an Italian database at this time, he says, are those obtained from evidence, not from individuals.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cSo there\u2019s no database to search in Italy,\u201d Captain Poma adds. \u201cAnd the most we can say right now is the DNA collected from under Drew\u2019s fingernails doesn\u2019t match the DNA of any individual in any database outside Italy, including the United States.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cI believe you\u2019ve ascertained that the sources of DNA collected from under her nails are males of European descent \u2013 in other words, Caucasian,\u201d Benton says.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cYes,\u201d the lab director says.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cDr. Scarpetta?\u201d Captain Poma says. \u201cPlease continue.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cMay I have autopsy photo number twenty-six, please?\u201d she says. \u201cA posterior view during the external examination. Close-up of the wounds.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>They fill the screen. Two dark red craters with jagged edges. She points the laser, and the red dot moves over the massive wound where the right buttock used to be, then to a second area of flesh that has been excised from the back of the right thigh.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cInflicted by a sharp cutting instrument, possibly with a serrated blade, that sawed through muscle and superficially cut the bone,\u201d she says. \u201cInflicted postmortem, based on the absence of tissue response to the injuries. In other words, the wounds are yellowish.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cPostmortem mutilation rules out torture, at least torture by cutting,\u201d Benton adds.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cThen what explanation? If not torture?\u201d Captain Poma asks him, both men staring at each other like two animals that are natural enemies. \u201cWhy else would a person inflict such sadistic, and, I would suggest, disfiguring, wounds on another human being? Tell us, Dr. Wesley, in all your experiences have you seen anything like this before, perhaps in other cases? Especially when you were such a famous profiler with the FBI?\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cNo,\u201d Benton says curtly, and any reference to his former career with the FBI is a calculated insult. \u201cI\u2019ve seen mutilation. But I\u2019ve never seen anything quite like this. Especially what he did to her eyes.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>He removed them and filled the sockets with sand. Afterward, he glued her eyelids shut.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Scarpetta points the laser and describes this, and Benton is chilled again. Everything about this case chills him, unnerves and fascinates him. What is the symbolism? It\u2019s not that he\u2019s unfamiliar with the gouging out of eyes. But what Captain Poma suggests is far-fetched.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cThe ancient Greek combat sport pankration? Perhaps you\u2019ve heard of it,\u201d Captain Poma says to the theater. \u201cIn pankration, one uses any means possible to defeat his enemy. It was common to gouge out the eyes and kill the person by stabbing or strangulation. Drew\u2019s eyes were gouged out, and she was strangled.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>The general of the Carabinieri asks Benton, through the translator, \u201cThen maybe there\u2019s a connection to pankration? That the killer had this in his mind when he removed her eyes and strangled her?\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cI don\u2019t think so,\u201d Benton says.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cThen what explanation?\u201d the general asks, and like Captain Poma, he wears a splendid uniform but with more silver and ornamentation around the cuffs and high collar.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cA more interior one. A more personal one,\u201d Benton says.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cFrom the news, perhaps,\u201d the general says. \u201cTorture. The Death Squads in Iraq that pull out teeth and gouge out eyes.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cI can only suppose that what this killer did is a manifestation of his own psyche. In other words, I don\u2019t believe what he did to her is an allusion to anything even remotely obvious. Through her wounds, we get a glimpse into his inner world,\u201d Benton says.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cThis is speculation,\u201d Captain Poma says.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cIt\u2019s a psychological insight based on many years of working violent crimes,\u201d Benton replies.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cBut it\u2019s your intuition.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cWe ignore intuition at our peril,\u201d Benton says.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cMay we have the autopsy picture that shows her anteriorly during the external examination?\u201d Scarpetta says. \u201cA close-up of her neck.\u201d She checks the list on the podium. \u201cNumber twenty.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>A three-dimensional image fills the screen: Drew\u2019s body on a stainless-steel autopsy table, her skin and hair wet from washing.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cIf you look here\u201d \u2013 Scarpetta points the laser at the neck \u2013 \u201cyou notice a horizontal ligature mark.\u201d The dot moves along the front of the neck. Before she can continue, she\u2019s interrupted by Rome\u2019s head of tourism.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cAfterwards, he removed her eyes. After death,\u201d he says. \u201cVersus while she was alive. This is important.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cYes,\u201d Scarpetta replies. \u201cReports I\u2019ve reviewed indicate the only pre-mortem injuries are contusions on the ankles and contusions caused by strangulation. The photograph of her dissected neck, please? Number thirty-eight.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>She waits, and images fill the screen. On a cutting board, the larynx and soft tissue with areas of hemorrhage. The tongue.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Scarpetta points out, \u201cContusions to the soft tissue, the underlying muscles, and fractured hyoid due to strangulation clearly indicate damage inflicted while she was still alive.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cPetechiae of her eyes?\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cWe don\u2019t know if there were conjunctival petechiae,\u201d Scarpetta says. \u201cHer eyes are absent. But reports do indicate some petechiae of eyelids and face.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cWhat he did to her eyes? You\u2019re familiar with this from anything else in your experiences?\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cI\u2019ve seen victims whose eyes were gouged out. But I\u2019ve never seen or heard of a killer filling eye sockets with sand and then sealing the eyelids shut with \u2013 in this instance \u2013 an adhesive that according to your report is a cyanoacrylate.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cSuperglue,\u201d Captain Poma says.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cI\u2019m keenly interested in the sand,\u201d she says. \u201cIt doesn\u2019t appear to be indigenous to the area. More important, scanning electron microscopy with EDX found traces of what appears to be gunshot residue. Lead, antimony, and barium.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cCertainly it isn\u2019t from the local beaches,\u201d Captain Poma says. \u201cUnless many people shoot each other and we don\u2019t know it.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Laughter.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cSand from Ostia would have basalt in it,\u201d Scarpetta says. \u201cOther components from volcanic activity. I believe all of you have a copy of the spectral fingerprint of the sand recovered from the body and a spectral fingerprint of sand from a beach area in Ostia.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>The sounds of paper rustling in the theater. Small flashlights click on.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cBoth analyzed with Raman spectroscopy, using an eight-point-milliwatt red laser. As you can see, sand from the local beaches of Ostia and sand found in Drew Martin\u2019s eye sockets have very different spectral fingerprints. With the scanning electron microscope, we can see the sand\u2019s morphology, and backscattered electron imaging shows us the GSR particles we\u2019re talking about.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cThe beaches of Ostia are very popular with tourists,\u201d Captain Poma says. \u201cBut not so much this time of year. People from here and the tourists usually wait until it\u2019s warmer. Late May, even June. Then many people from Rome especially crowd them, since the drive is maybe thirty, maybe forty minutes. It\u2019s not for me,\u201d as if anybody asked his personal feelings about the beaches of Ostia. \u201cI find the black sand of the beaches ugly, and I would never go in the water.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cI think what\u2019s important here is where is the sand from, which seems to be a mystery,\u201d Benton says, and it\u2019s late afternoon now and everyone is getting restless. \u201cAnd why sand at all? The choice of sand \u2013 this specific sand \u2013 means something to the killer, and it may tell us where Drew was murdered, or perhaps where her killer is from or spends time.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cYes, yes,\u201d Captain Poma says with a hint of impatience. \u201cAnd the eyes and very terrible wounds mean something to the killer. And thankfully, these details aren\u2019t known to the public. We\u2019ve managed to keep them away from journalists. So if there is another similar murder, we will know it isn\u2019t a copy.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Chapter 2<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span><\/span><\/span>The three of them sit in a candlelit corner of Tullio, a popular trattoria with a travertine facade, near the theaters, and an easy walk from the Spanish Steps.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Candlelit tables are covered in pale gold cloths, and the dark-paneled wall behind them is filled with bottles of wine. Other walls are hung with watercolors of rustic Italian scenes. It\u2019s quiet here except for a table of drunk Americans. They\u2019re oblivious and preoccupied, as is the waiter in his beige jacket and black tie. No one has any idea what Benton, Scarpetta, and Captain Poma are discussing. If anyone comes close enough to hear, they change their conversation to harmless topics and tuck photographs and reports back into folders.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Scarpetta sips a 1996 Biondi Santi Brunello that is very expensive but not what she would have picked had she been asked, and usually she is asked. She returns her glass to the table without removing her eyes from the photograph beside her simple Parma ham and melon, which she will follow with grilled sea bass, then beans in olive oil. Maybe raspberries for dessert, unless Benton\u2019s deteriorating demeanor takes away her appetite. And it might.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cAt the risk of sounding simple,\u201d she is quietly saying, \u201cI keep thinking there\u2019s something important we\u2019re missing.\u201d Her index finger taps a scene photograph of Drew Martin.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cSo now you don\u2019t complain about going over something again and again,\u201d Captain Poma says, openly flirtatious now. \u201cSee? Good food and wine. They make us smarter.\u201d He taps his head, mimicking Scarpetta tapping the photograph.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>She is pensive, the way she gets when she leaves the room without going anywhere.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cSomething so obvious we\u2019re completely blind to it, everyone\u2019s been blind to it,\u201d she continues. \u201cOften we don\u2019t see something because \u2013 as they say \u2013 it\u2019s in plain view. What is it? What is she saying to us?\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cFine. Let\u2019s look for what\u2019s in plain view,\u201d says Benton, and rarely has she seen him so openly hostile and withdrawn. He doesn\u2019t hide his disdain of Captain Poma, now dressed in perfect pinstripes. His gold cuff links engraved with the crest of the Carabinieri flash when they catch the light of the candle.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cYes, in plain view. Every inch of her exposed flesh \u2013 before anybody touched it. We should study it in that condition. Untouched. Exactly as he left it,\u201d Captain Poma says, his eyes on Scarpetta. \u201cHow he left it is a story, is it not? But before I forget, to our last time together in Rome. At least for now. We should drink a toast to that.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>It doesn\u2019t seem right to raise their glasses with the dead young woman watching, her naked, savaged body right there on the table, in a sense.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cAnd a toast to the FBI,\u201d says Captain Poma. \u201cTo their determination to turn this into an act of terrorism. The ultimate soft target \u2013 an American tennis star.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cIt\u2019s a waste of time to even allude to such a thing,\u201d Benton says, and he picks up his glass, not to toast but to drink.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cThen tell your government to stop suggesting it,\u201d Captain Poma says. \u201cThere, I will say this bluntly since we\u2019re alone. Your government is spreading this propaganda from behind the scenes, and the reason we didn\u2019t discuss this earlier is because the Italians don\u2019t believe anything so ridiculous. No terrorist is responsible. The FBI to say such a thing? It\u2019s stupid.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cThe FBI isn\u2019t sitting here. We are. And we aren\u2019t the FBI, and I\u2019m weary of your references to the FBI,\u201d Benton replies.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cBut you were FBI most of your career. Until you quit and disappeared from sight as if you were dead. For some reason.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cIf this were an act of terrorism, someone would have claimed responsibility by now,\u201d Benton says. \u201cI\u2019d rather you don\u2019t mention the FBI or my personal history again.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cAn insatiable appetite for publicity and your country\u2019s current need to scare the hell out of everybody and rule the world.\u201d Captain Poma refills their wineglasses. \u201cYour Bureau of Investigation interviewing witnesses here in Rome, stepping all over Interpol, and they\u2019re supposed to work with Interpol, have their own representatives there. And they fly in these idiots from Washington who don\u2019t know us, much less how to work a complex homicide \u2013 \u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Benton interrupts him. \u201cYou should know by now, Captain Poma, that politics and jurisdictional infighting are the nature of the beast.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cI wish you would call me Otto. As my friends do.\u201d He moves his chair closer to Scarpetta, and with him comes the scent of his cologne, then he moves the candle. He glances in disgust at the table of obtuse, hard-drinking Americans and says, \u201cYou know, we try to like you.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cDon\u2019t try,\u201d Benton says. \u201cNo one else does.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cI\u2019ve never understood why you Americans are so loud.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cBecause we don\u2019t listen,\u201d Scarpetta says. \u201cThat\u2019s why we have George Bush.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Captain Poma picks up the photograph near her plate, studies it as if he\u2019s never seen it before. \u201cI\u2019m looking at what\u2019s in plain view,\u201d he says. \u201cAnd all I see is the obvious.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Benton stares at the two of them sitting so close, his handsome face like granite.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cIt\u2019s better to assume there\u2019s no such thing as obvious. It\u2019s a word,\u201d Scarpetta says, sliding more photographs out of an envelope. \u201cA reference to one\u2019s personal perceptions. And mine may be different from yours.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cI believe you demonstrated that quite exhaustively at state police headquarters,\u201d the captain says, while Benton stares.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>She looks at Benton, a lingering look that communicates her awareness of his behavior and how unnecessary it is. He has no reason to be jealous. She has done nothing to encourage Captain Poma\u2019s flirtations.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cIn plain view. Well, then. Why don\u2019t we start with her toes,\u201d Benton says, barely touching his buffalo mozzarella and already on his third glass of wine.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cThat\u2019s actually a good idea.\u201d Scarpetta studies photographs of Drew. She studies a close-up of Drew\u2019s bare toes. \u201cNeatly manicured. Nails painted recently, consistent with her getting a pedicure before she left New York.\u201d She repeats what they know.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cDoes that matter?\u201d Captain Poma studies a photograph, leaning so close to Scarpetta that his arm is touching hers, and she feels his heat and smells his scent. \u201cI don\u2019t think so. I think it matters more what she was wearing. Black jeans, a white silk shirt, a black silk\u2013lined black leather jacket. Also, black panties and a black bra.\u201d He pauses. \u201cIt\u2019s curious her body didn\u2019t have any fibers from these, just the fibers from the sheet.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cWe don\u2019t know for a fact it was a sheet,\u201d Benton reminds him sharply.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cAlso, her clothing, her watch, necklace, leather bracelets, and earrings haven\u2019t been found. So the killer took these things,\u201d the captain says to Scarpetta. \u201cFor what reason? Perhaps souvenirs. But we will talk about her pedicure, since you think it important. Drew went to a spa on Central Park South right after she got to New York. We have details of this appointment, charged to Drew\u2019s credit card \u2013 her father\u2019s credit card, actually. From what I\u2019m told, he was most indulgent with her.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cI think it\u2019s been well established she was spoiled,\u201d Benton says.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cI think we should be careful using words like that,\u201d Scarpetta says. \u201cShe earned what she had, is the one who practiced six hours a day, trained so hard \u2013 had just won the Family Circle Cup and was expected to win other\u2026\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cThat\u2019s where you live,\u201d Captain Poma says to her. \u201cCharleston, South Carolina. Where the Family Circle Cup is played. Odd, isn\u2019t it. That very night she flew to New York. And from there to here. To this.\u201d He indicates the photographs.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cWhat I\u2019m saying is money can\u2019t buy championship titles, and spoiled people usually don\u2019t work as passionately as she did,\u201d Scarpetta says.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Benton says, \u201cHer father spoiled her but couldn\u2019t be bothered with parenting. Same with her mother.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cYes, yes,\u201d Captain Poma agrees. \u201cWhat parents permit a sixteen-year-old to travel abroad with two eighteen-year-old friends? Especially if she\u2019d been acting moody. Up and down.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cWhen your child becomes more difficult, it gets easier to give in. Not resist,\u201d Scarpetta says, thinking about her niece, Lucy. When Lucy was a child, God, their battles. \u201cWhat about her coach? Do we know anything about that relationship?\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cGianni Lupano. I spoke to him, and he said he was aware she was coming here and wasn\u2019t happy about it because of major tournaments in the next few months, such as Wimbledon. He wasn\u2019t helpful and seemed angry with her.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cAnd the Italian Open here in Rome next month,\u201d Scarpetta points out, finding it unusual the captain didn\u2019t mention it.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cOf course. She should train, not run off with friends. I don\u2019t watch tennis.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cWhere was he when she was murdered?\u201d Scarpetta asks.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cNew York. We\u2019ve checked with the hotel where he said he stayed, and he was registered at that time. He also commented she had been moody. Down one day, up the next. Very stubborn and difficult and unpredictable. He wasn\u2019t sure how much longer he could work with her. Said he had better things to do than put up with her behavior.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cI\u2019d like to know if mood disorders run in her family,\u201d Benton says. \u201cI don\u2019t suppose you bothered to ask.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cI didn\u2019t. I\u2019m sorry I wasn\u2019t astute enough to think of it.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cIt would be extremely useful to know if she had a psychiatric history her family\u2019s been secretive about.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cIt\u2019s well known she\u2019d struggled with an eating disorder,\u201d Scarpetta says. \u201cShe\u2019s talked openly about it.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cNo mention of a mood disorder? Nothing from her parents?\u201d Benton continues his cool interrogation of the captain.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cNothing more than her ups and downs. Typical teenager.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cDo you have children?\u201d Benton reaches for his wine.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cNot that I know of.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cA trigger,\u201d Scarpetta says. \u201cSomething was going on with Drew that no one\u2019s telling us. Perhaps what\u2019s in plain view? Her behavior\u2019s in plain view. Her drinking\u2019s in plain view. Why? Did something happen?\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cThe tournament in Charleston,\u201d Captain Poma says to Scarpetta. \u201cWhere you have your private practice. What is it they call it? The Lowcountry? What is Lowcountry, exactly?\u201d He slowly swirls his wine, his eyes on her.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cAlmost sea level, literally low country.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cAnd your local police have no interest in this case? Since she played a tournament there just maybe two days before she was murdered?\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cCurious, I\u2019m sure \u2013 \u201d Scarpetta starts to say.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cHer murder has nothing to do with the Charleston police,\u201d Benton interrupts. \u201cThey have no jurisdiction.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Scarpetta gives him a look, and the captain watches both of them. He\u2019s been watching their tense interaction all day.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cNo jurisdiction hasn\u2019t stopped anybody from showing up and flashing their badges,\u201d Captain Poma says.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cIf you\u2019re alluding to the FBI again, you\u2019ve made your point,\u201d says Benton. \u201cIf you\u2019re alluding to my being former FBI again, you\u2019ve definitely made your point. If you\u2019re alluding to Dr. Scarpetta and me \u2013 we were invited by you. We didn\u2019t just show up, Otto. Since you\u2019ve asked us to call you that.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cIs it me or is this not perfect?\u201d The captain holds up his glass of wine as if it is a flawed diamond.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Benton picked the wine. Scarpetta knows more about Italian wines than he does, but tonight he finds it necessary to assert his dominance, as if he has just plummeted fifty rungs on the evolutionary ladder. She feels Captain Poma\u2019s interest in her as she looks at another photograph, grateful the waiter doesn\u2019t seem inclined to come their way. He\u2019s busy with the table of loud Americans.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cClose-up of her legs,\u201d she says. \u201cBruising around her ankles.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cFresh bruises,\u201d Captain Poma says. \u201cHe grabbed her, maybe.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cPossibly. They aren\u2019t from ligatures.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>She wishes Captain Poma wouldn\u2019t sit so close to her, but there\u2019s no where else for her to move unless she pushes her chair into the wall. She wishes he wouldn\u2019t brush against her when he reaches for photographs.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cHer legs are recently shaven,\u201d she goes on. \u201cI would say shaven within twenty-four hours of her death. Barely any stubble. She cared about how she looked even when she was traveling with friends. That might be important. Was she hoping to meet someone?\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cOf course. Three young women looking for young men,\u201d Captain Poma says.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Scarpetta watches Benton motion for the waiter to bring another bottle of wine.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>She says, \u201cDrew was a celebrity. From what I\u2019ve been told, she was careful about strangers, didn\u2019t like to be bothered.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cHer drinking doesn\u2019t make much sense,\u201d Benton says.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cChronic drinking doesn\u2019t,\u201d Scarpetta says. \u201cYou can look at these photographs and see she was extremely fit, lean, superb muscle development. If she\u2019d become a heavy drinker, it would appear it hadn\u2019t been going on long, and her recent success would indicate that as well. Again, we have to wonder if something recently had happened. Some emotional upheaval?\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cDepressed. Unstable. Abusing alcohol,\u201d Benton says. \u201cAll making the person more vulnerable to a predator.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cAnd that\u2019s what I think happened,\u201d Captain Poma says. \u201cRandomness. An easy target. Alone at the Piazza di Spagna, where she encountered the gold-painted mime.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>The gold-painted mime performed as mimes do, and Drew dropped another coin into his cup, and he performed once more to her delight.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>She refused to leave with her friends. The last thing she ever said to them was, \u201cBeneath all that gold paint is a very handsome Italian.\u201d The last thing her friends ever said to her was, \u201cDon\u2019t assume he\u2019s Italian.\u201d It was a valid comment, since mimes don\u2019t speak.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>She told her friends to go on, perhaps visit the shops of Via dei Condotti, and she promised to meet them at the Piazza Navona, at the fountain of rivers, where they waited and waited. They told Captain Poma they tasted free samples of crispy waffles made of eggs and farina and sugar, and giggled as Italian boys shot them with bubble guns, begging them to buy one. Instead, Drew\u2019s friends got fake tattoos and encouraged street musicians to play American tunes on reed pipes. They admitted they had gotten somewhat drunk at lunch and were silly.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>They described Drew as \u201ca little drunk,\u201d and said she was pretty but didn\u2019t think she was. She assumed people stared because they recognized her, when often it was because of her good looks. \u201cPeople who don\u2019t watch tennis didn\u2019t necessarily recognize her at all,\u201d one of the friends told Captain Poma. \u201cShe just didn\u2019t get how beautiful she was.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Captain Poma talks on through their main course, and Benton, for the most part, drinks, and Scarpetta knows what he thinks \u2013 she should avoid the captain\u2019s seductions, should somehow move out of range, which in truth would require nothing less than her leaving the table, if not the trattoria. Benton thinks the captain is full of shit, because it defies common sense that a medico legale would interview witnesses as if he is the lead detective in the case, and the captain never mentions the name of anyone else involved in the case. Benton forgets that Captain Poma is the Sherlock Holmes of Rome, or, more likely, Benton can\u2019t stomach the thought, he is so jealous.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Scarpetta makes notes as the captain recounts in detail his long interview with the gold-painted mime, who has what appears to be an infallible alibi: He was still performing in his same spot at the base of the Spanish Steps until late afternoon \u2013 long after Drew\u2019s friends returned to look for her. He claimed to vaguely remember the girl, but he had no idea who she was, thought she was drunk, and then she wandered off. In summary, he paid little attention to her, he said. He is a mime, he said. He acted like a mime at all times, he said. When he\u2019s not a mime, he works at night as a doorman at the Hotel Hassler, where Benton and Scarpetta are staying. At the top of the Spanish Steps, the Hassler is one of the finest hotels in Rome, and Benton insisted on staying there in its penthouse for reasons he has yet to explain.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Scarpetta has barely touched her fish. She continues to look at the photographs as if for the first time. She doesn\u2019t contribute to Benton and Captain Poma\u2019s argument about why some killers grotesquely display their victims. She adds nothing to Benton\u2019s talk of the excitement these sexual predators derive from the headline news or, even better, from lurking nearby or in the crowd, watching the drama of the discovery and the panic that follows. She studies Drew\u2019s mauled naked body, on its side, legs together, knees and elbows bent, hands tucked under the chin.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Almost as if she\u2019s sleeping.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cI\u2019m not sure it\u2019s contempt,\u201d she says.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Benton and Captain Poma stop talking.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cIf you look at this\u201d \u2013 she slides a photograph closer to Benton \u2013 \u201cwithout the usual assumption in mind that this is a sexually degrading display, you might wonder if there\u2019s something different. Not about religion, either. Not praying to Saint Agnes. But the way she\u2019s positioned.\u201d She continues to say things as they come to her. \u201cSomething almost tender about it.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cTender? You\u2019re joking,\u201d Captain Poma says.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cAs in sleeping,\u201d Scarpetta says. \u201cIt doesn\u2019t strike me that she\u2019s displayed in a sexually degrading way \u2013 victim on her back, her arms, her legs spread, et cetera. The more I look, I don\u2019t think so.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cMaybe,\u201d Benton says, picking up the photograph.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cBut nude for everyone to see,\u201d Captain Poma disagrees.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cTake a good look at her position. I could be wrong, of course, just trying to open my mind to other interpretations, putting aside my prejudices, my angry assumptions that this killer is filled with hate. It\u2019s just a feeling I\u2019m getting. The suggestion of a different possibility, that maybe he wanted her found but his intention wasn\u2019t to sexually degrade,\u201d she says.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cYou don\u2019t see contempt? Rage?\u201d Captain Poma is surprised, seems genuinely incredulous.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cI think what he did made him feel powerful. He had a need to overpower her. He has other needs that at this moment we can\u2019t possibly know,\u201d she says. \u201cAnd I\u2019m certainly not suggesting there\u2019s no sexual component. I\u2019m not saying there isn\u2019t rage. I just don\u2019t think these are what drive him.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cCharleston must feel very lucky to have you,\u201d he says.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cI\u2019m not sure Charleston feels anything of the sort,\u201d she says. \u201cAt least, the local coroner most likely doesn\u2019t.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>The drunk Americans are getting louder. Benton seems distracted by what they\u2019re saying.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cAn expert like yourself right there. Very lucky is how I would consider it if I were the coroner. And he doesn\u2019t avail himself of your talents?\u201d Captain Poma says, brushing against her as he reaches for a photograph he doesn\u2019t need to look at again.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cHe sends his cases to the Medical University of South Carolina, has never had to contend with a private pathology practice before. Not in Charleston or anywhere. My contracts are with some of the coroners from outlying jurisdictions where there\u2019s no access to medical examiner facilities and labs,\u201d she explains, distracted by Benton.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>He indicates for her to pay attention to what the drunk Americans are saying.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201c\u2026I just think when it\u2019s undisclosed this and undisclosed that, it\u2019s fishy,\u201d one of them pontificates.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cWhy would she want anybody to know? I don\u2019t blame her. It\u2019s like Oprah or Anna Nicole Smith. People find out where they are, they show up in droves.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cHow sickening. Imagine being in the hospital\u2026\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cOr in Anna Nicole Smith\u2019s case, in the morgue. Or in the damn ground\u2026\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201c\u2026And mobs of people out there on the sidewalk, yelling out your name.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cCan\u2019t take the heat, get out of the kitchen, is what I say. Price you pay for being rich and famous.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cWhat\u2019s going on?\u201d Scarpetta asks Benton.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cIt would seem our old friend Dr. Self had some sort of emergency earlier today and is going to be off the air for a while,\u201d he replies.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Captain Poma turns around and looks at the table of noisy Americans. \u201cDo you know her?\u201d he asks.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Benton says, \u201cWe\u2019ve had our run-ins with her. Mainly, Kay has.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cI believe I read something about that when I was researching you. A sensational, very brutal homicide case in Florida that involved all of you.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cI\u2019m glad to know you researched us,\u201d Benton says. \u201cThat was very thorough.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cOnly to make myself familiar before you came here.\u201d Captain Poma meets Scarpetta\u2019s eyes. \u201cA very beautiful woman I know watches Dr. Self regularly,\u201d he says, \u201cand she tells me she saw her on the show last fall. It had something to do with her winning that very big tournament in New York. I admit I don\u2019t pay much attention to tennis.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cThe U.S. Open,\u201d Scarpetta says.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cI\u2019m not aware Drew was on her show,\u201d Benton says, frowning as if he doesn\u2019t believe him.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cShe was. I\u2019ve checked. This is very interesting. Suddenly, Dr. Self has a family emergency. I\u2019ve been trying to get in touch with her, and she has yet to respond to my inquiries. Perhaps you could intercede?\u201d he says to Scarpetta.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cI seriously doubt that would be helpful,\u201d she says. \u201cDr. Self hates me.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>They walk back, following Via Due Macelli in the dark.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>She imagines Drew Martin walking these streets. She wonders who she encountered. What does he look like? How old is he? What did he do to inspire her trust? Had they met before? It was daylight, plenty of people out, but so far no witnesses have come forward with convincing information that they saw anybody who fit her description at any time after she left the mime. How can that be possible? She was one of the most famous athletes in the world, and not one person recognized her on the streets of Rome?<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cWas what happened random? Like a lightning strike? That\u2019s the question we seem no closer to answering,\u201d Scarpetta says as she and Benton walk through the balmy night, their shadows moving over old stone. \u201cShe\u2019s by herself and intoxicated, perhaps lost on some deserted side street, and he sees her? And what? Offers to show her the way and leads her where he can gain complete control of her? Perhaps where he lives? Or to his car? If so, he must speak at least a little English. How could no one have seen her? Not one person.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Benton says nothing, their shoes scuffing on the sidewalk, the street noisy with people emerging from restaurants and bars, very loud, with motor scooters and cars that come close to running them over.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cDrew didn\u2019t speak Italian, scarcely a word of it, so we\u2019re told,\u201d Scarpetta adds.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>The stars are out, the moon soft on Casina Rossa, the stucco house where Keats died of tuberculosis at age twenty-five.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cOr he stalked her,\u201d she goes on. \u201cOr perhaps he was acquainted with her. We don\u2019t know and probably never will unless he does it again and is caught. Are you going to talk to me, Benton? Or shall I continue my rather fragmented, redundant monologue?\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cI don\u2019t know what the hell\u2019s going on between the two of you, unless this is your way of punishing me,\u201d he says.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cWith who?\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cThat goddamn captain. Who the hell else?\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cThe answer to the first part is nothing\u2019s going on, and you\u2019re being ridiculous to think otherwise, but we\u2019ll get back to that. I\u2019m more interested in the punishment part of your statement. Since I have no history of punishing you or anyone.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>They begin climbing the Spanish Steps, an exertion made harder by hurt feelings and too much wine. Lovers are entwined, and rowdy youths are laughing and boisterous and pay them no mind. Far away, what seems a mile high, the Hotel Hassler is lit up and huge, rising over the city like a palace.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cOne thing not in my character,\u201d she resumes. \u201cPunishing people. Protect myself and others, but not punish. Never people I care about. Most of all\u201d \u2013 out of breath \u2013 \u201cI would never punish you.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cIf you intend to see other people, if you\u2019re interested in other men, I can\u2019t say I blame you. But tell me. That\u2019s all I ask. Don\u2019t put on displays like you did all day. And tonight. Don\u2019t play fucking high school games with me.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cDisplays? Games?\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cHe was all over you,\u201d Benton says.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cAnd I was all over everywhere else trying to move away from him.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cHe\u2019s been all over you for all day long. Can\u2019t get close enough to you. Stares at you, touches you right in front of me.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cBenton\u2026\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cAnd I know he\u2019s this good-looking, well, maybe you\u2019re attracted to him. But I won\u2019t tolerate it. Right in front of me. Goddamn it.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cBenton\u2026\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cSame with God knows who. Down there in the Deep South. What do I know?\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cBenton!\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Silence.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cYou\u2019re talking crazy. Since when, in the history of the universe, have you ever worried about my cheating on you? Knowingly.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>No sound but their footsteps on stone, their labored breathing.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cKnowingly,\u201d she repeats, \u201cbecause the one time I was with someone else was when I thought you were\u2026\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cDead,\u201d he says. \u201cRight. So you\u2019re told I\u2019m dead. Then a minute later you\u2019re fucking some guy young enough to be your son.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cDon\u2019t.\u201d Anger begins to gather. \u201cDon\u2019t you dare.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>He is quiet. Even after the bottle of wine he drank all by himself, he knows better than to push the subject of his feigned death when he was forced into a protected witness program. What Benton put her though. He knows better than to attack her as if she\u2019s the one who was emotionally cruel.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cSorry,\u201d he says.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cWhat\u2019s really the matter?\u201d she says. \u201cGod, these steps.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cI guess we can\u2019t seem to change it. As you say about livor and rigor. Set. Fixed. Let\u2019s face it.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cI won\u2019t face whatever it is. As far as I\u2019m concerned, there\u2019s no it. And livor and rigor are about people who are dead. We\u2019re not dead. You just said you never were.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Both of them are breathless. Her heart is pounding.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cI\u2019m sorry. Really,\u201d he says, referring to what happened in the past, his faked death and her ruined life.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>She says, \u201cHe\u2019s been too attentive. Forward. So what?\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Benton is used to the attention other men pay to her, has always been rather unperturbed by it, even amused, because he knows who she is, knows who he is, knows his enormous power and that she has to deal with the same thing \u2013 women who stare at him, brush against him, want him shamelessly.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cYou\u2019ve made a new life for yourself in Charleston,\u201d he says. \u201cI can\u2019t see your undoing it. Can\u2019t believe you did it.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cCan\u2019t believe\u2026?\u201d And the steps go up and up forever.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cKnowing I\u2019m in Boston and can\u2019t move south. Where does that leave us.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cIt leaves you jealous. Saying \u2018fuck,\u2019 and you never say \u2018fuck.\u2019 God! I hate steps!\u201d Unable to catch her breath. \u201cYou have no reason to be threatened. It\u2019s not like you to feel threatened by anyone. What\u2019s wrong with you?\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cI was expecting too much.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cExpecting what, Benton?\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cDoesn\u2019t matter.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cIt certainly does.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>They climb the endless flight of steps and stop talking, because their relationship is too much to talk about when they can\u2019t breathe. She knows Benton is angry because he\u2019s scared. He feels powerless in Rome. He feels powerless in their relationship because he\u2019s in Massachusetts, where he moved with her blessing, the chance to work as a forensic psychologist at the Harvard-affiliated McLean Hospital too good to ignore.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cWhat were we thinking?\u201d she says, no more steps, and she reaches for his hand. \u201cIdealistic as ever, I suppose. And you could return a little energy with that hand of yours, as if you want to hold mine, too. For seventeen years we\u2019ve never lived in the same city, much less the same house.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cAnd you don\u2019t think it can change.\u201d He laces his fingers through hers, taking a deep breath.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cHow?\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cI suppose I\u2019ve entertained this secret fantasy you\u2019d move. With Harvard, MIT, Tufts. I guess I thought you might teach. Perhaps at a medical school or be content to be a part-time consultant at McLean. Or maybe Boston, the ME\u2019s office. Maybe end up chief.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cI could never go back to a life like that,\u201d Scarpetta says, and they are walking into the hotel\u2019s lobby that she calls Belle \u00c9poque because it is from a beautiful era. But they are oblivious to the marble, the antique Murano glass and silk and sculptures, to everything and everyone, including Romeo \u2013 that really is his name \u2013 who during the day is a gold-painted mime, most nights a doorman, and of late, a somewhat attractive and sullen young Italian who doesn\u2019t want any further interrogations about Drew Martin\u2019s murder.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Romeo is polite but avoids their eyes and, like a mime, is completely silent.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cI want what\u2019s best for you,\u201d Benton says. \u201cWhich is why, obviously, I didn\u2019t get in your way when you decided to start your own practice in Charleston, but I was upset about it.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cYou never told me.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cI shouldn\u2019t tell you now. What you\u2019ve done is right and I know it. For years you\u2019ve felt you really don\u2019t belong anywhere. In a sense, homeless, and in some ways unhappy ever since you left Richmond \u2013 worse, sorry to remind you, were fired. That goddamn piss-ant governor. At this stage in your life, you\u2019re doing exactly what you should.\u201d As they board the elevator. \u201cBut I\u2019m not sure I can stand it anymore.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>She tries not to feel a fear that is indescribably awful. \u201cWhat do I hear you saying, Benton? That we should give up? Is that what you\u2019re really saying?\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cMaybe I\u2019m saying the opposite.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cMaybe I don\u2019t know what that means, and I wasn\u2019t flirting.\u201d As they get out on their floor. \u201cI never flirt. Except with you.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cI don\u2019t know what you do when I\u2019m not around.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cYou know what I don\u2019t do.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>He unlocks the door to their penthouse suite. It is splendid with antiques and white marble and a stone patio big enough to entertain a small village. Beyond, the ancient city is silhouetted against the night.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cBenton,\u201d she says. \u201cPlease, let\u2019s don\u2019t fight. You\u2019re flying back to Boston in the morning. I\u2019m flying back to Charleston. Let\u2019s don\u2019t push each other away so it somehow makes it easier to be away from each other.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>He takes off his coat.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cWhat? You\u2019re angry that I\u2019ve finally found a place to settle down, started again in a place that works for me?\u201d she says.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>He tosses his coat over a chair.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cIn all fairness,\u201d she says, \u201cI\u2019m the one who has to start all over again, create something out of nothing, answer my own phone, and clean up the damn morgue myself. I don\u2019t have Harvard. I don\u2019t have a multimillion-dollar apartment in Beacon Hill. I have Rose, Marino, and sometimes Lucy. That\u2019s it, so I end up answering the phone myself half the time. The local media. Solicitors. Some group that wants me as a luncheon speaker. The exterminator. The other day, it was the damn Chamber of Commerce \u2013 how many of their damn phone directories do I want to order. As if I want to be listed in the Chamber of Commerce directory as if I\u2019m a dry cleaner or something.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cWhy?\u201d Benton says. \u201cRose has always screened your calls.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cShe\u2019s getting old. She can do but so much.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cWhy can\u2019t Marino answer the phone?\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cWhy anything? Nothing\u2019s the same. Your making everyone think you were dead fractured and scattered everyone. There, I\u2019ll say it. Everybody\u2019s changed because of it, including you.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cI had no choice.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cThat\u2019s the funny thing about choices. When you don\u2019t have one, nobody else does, either.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cThat\u2019s why you\u2019ve put down roots in Charleston. You don\u2019t want to choose me. I might die again.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cI feel as if I\u2019m standing all alone in the middle of a fucking explosion, everything flying all around me. And I\u2019m just standing here. You ruined me. You fucking ruined me, Benton.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cNow who\u2019s saying \u2018fuck\u2019?\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>She wipes her eyes. \u201cNow you\u2019ve made me cry.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>He moves closer to her, touches her. They sit on the couch and gaze out at the twin bell towers of Trinit\u00e0 dei Monti, at the Villa Medici on the edge of the Pincian Hill, and far beyond, Vatican City. She turns to him and is struck again by the clean lines of his face, his silver hair, and his long, lean elegance that is so incongruous with what he does.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cHow is it now?\u201d she asks him. \u201cThe way you feel, compared to back then? In the beginning.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cDifferent.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cDifferent sounds ominous.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cDifferent because we\u2019ve been through so much for so long. By now it\u2019s hard for me to remember not knowing you. It\u2019s hard for me to remember I was married before I met you. That was someone else, some FBI guy who played by the rules, had no passion, no life, until that morning I walked into your conference room, the important so-called profiler, called in to help out with homicides terrorizing your modest city. And there you were in your lab coat, setting down a huge stack of case files, shaking my hand. I thought you were the most remarkable woman I\u2019d ever met, couldn\u2019t take my eyes off of you. Still can\u2019t.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cDifferent.\u201d She reminds him of what he said.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cWhat goes on between two people is different every day.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cThat\u2019s okay as long as they feel the same way.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cDo you?\u201d he says. \u201cDo you still feel the same way? Because if\u2026\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cBecause if what?\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cWould you?\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cWould I what? Want to do something about it?\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cYes. For good.\u201d He gets up and finds his jacket, reaches into a pocket, and comes back to the couch.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cFor good, as opposed to for bad,\u201d she says, distracted by what\u2019s in his hand.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cI\u2019m not being funny. I mean it.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cSo you don\u2019t lose me to some foolish flirt?\u201d She pulls him against her and holds him tight. She pushes her fingers through his hair.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cMaybe,\u201d he says. \u201cTake this, please.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>He opens his hand, and in his palm is a folded piece of paper.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cWe\u2019re passing notes in school,\u201d she says, and she\u2019s afraid to open it.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cGo on, go on. Don\u2019t be a chicken.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>She opens it, and inside is a note that says, Will you? and then a ring. It\u2019s an antique, a thin platinum band of diamonds.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cMy great-grandmother\u2019s,\u201d he says, and he slides it over her finger, and it fits.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>They kiss.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cIf it\u2019s because you\u2019re jealous, that\u2019s a terrible reason,\u201d she says.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cI just happened to have it with me after it\u2019s been in a safe for fifty years? I\u2019m really asking you,\u201d he says. \u201cPlease say you will.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cAnd how do we manage? After all your talk about our separate lives?\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cFor Christ\u2019s sake, for once don\u2019t be rational.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cIt\u2019s very beautiful,\u201d she says of the ring. \u201cYou better mean it, because I\u2019m not giving it back.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Chapter 3<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span><\/span><\/span>Nine days later, Sunday. A ship\u2019s horn is mournful out at sea.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Church steeples pierce the overcast dawn in Charleston, and a solitary bell begins to ring. Then a cluster of them joins in, clanging in a secret language that sounds the same around the world. With the bells comes the first light of dawn, and Scarpetta begins to stir about in her master suite, as she wryly refers to her living area on the second floor of her early-nineteenth-century carriage house. Compared to the somewhat sumptuous homes of her past, what she has is a very odd departure.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Her bedroom and study are combined, the space so crowded she can barely move without bumping into the antique chest of drawers or bookcases, or the long table draped with a black cloth that bears a microscope and slides, latex gloves, dust masks, camera equipment, and various crime scene necessities \u2013 all eccentric in their context. There are no closets, just side-by-side wardrobes lined with cedar, and from one of them she selects a charcoal skirt suit, a gray-and-white-striped silk blouse, and low-heeled black pumps.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Dressed for what promises to be a difficult day, she sits at her desk and looks out at the garden, watching it change in the varying shadows and light of morning. She logs into e-mail, checking to see if her investigator, Pete Marino, has sent her anything that might confound her plans for the day. No messages. To double-check, she calls him.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cYeah.\u201d He sounds groggy. In the background, an unfamiliar woman\u2019s voice complains, \u201cShit. Now what?\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cYou\u2019re definitely coming in?\u201d Scarpetta makes sure. \u201cI got word late last night we have a body on the way from Beaufort, and I\u2019m assuming you\u2019ll be there to take care of it. Plus, we have that meeting this afternoon. I left you a message. You never called me back.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cYeah.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>The woman in the background says in the same complaining voice, \u201cWhat\u2019s she want this time?\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cI\u2019m talking within the hour,\u201d Scarpetta firmly tells Marino. \u201cYou need to be on your way now or there will be no one to let him in. Meddicks\u2019 Funeral Home. I\u2019m not familiar with it.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cYeah.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cI\u2019ll be in around eleven to finish up what I can with the little boy.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>As if the Drew Martin case isn\u2019t bad enough. Scarpetta\u2019s first day back to work after she returned from Rome brought in another horrible case, the murder of a little boy whose name she still doesn\u2019t know. He has moved into her mind because he has nowhere else to go, and when she least expects it, she sees his delicate face, emaciated body, and curly brown hair. And then the rest of it. What he looked like when she was done. After all these years, after thousands of cases, a part of her hates the necessity of what she must do to the dead because of what someone did to them first.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cYeah.\u201d That\u2019s all Marino has to say.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cPetulant, rude\u2026\u201d she mutters as she makes her way downstairs. \u201cI\u2019m so goddamn tired of this.\u201d Blowing out in exasperation.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>In the kitchen, her heels are sharp on the terra-cotta tile floor that she spent days on her hands and knees laying in a herringbone pattern when she moved into the carriage house. She repainted the walls plain white to capture light from the garden, and restored the cypress ceiling beams that are original to the house. The kitchen \u2013 the most important room \u2013 is precisely arranged with the stainless-steel appliances, copper pots and pans (always polished as bright as new pennies), cutting boards, and handcrafted German cutlery of a serious chef. Her niece, Lucy, should be here any minute, and it pleases Scarpetta very much, but she\u2019s curious. Lucy rarely calls and invites herself for breakfast.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Scarpetta picks out what she needs for egg-white omelets stuffed with ricotta cheese and white cap mushrooms saut\u00e9ed in sherry and unfiltered olive oil. No bread, not even her flat griddle bread grilled on the terra-cotta slab \u2013 or testo \u2013 she hand-carried from Bologna back in the days when airport security didn\u2019t consider cookware a weapon. Lucy is on an unforgiving diet \u2013 in training, as she puts it. For what, Scarpetta always asks. For life, Lucy always says. Preoccupied by whipping egg whites with a whisk and ruminating about what she must deal with today, she\u2019s startled by an ominous thud against an upstairs window.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cPlease, no,\u201d she exclaims in dismay, setting down the whisk and running to the door.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>She disarms the alarm and hurries out to the garden patio where a yellow finch flutters helplessly on old brick. She gently picks it up, and its head lolls from side to side, eyes half shut. She talks soothingly to it, strokes its silky feathers as it tries to right itself and fly, and its head lolls from side to side. It\u2019s just stunned, will suddenly recover, and it falls over and flutters and its head lolls from side to side. Maybe it won\u2019t die. Foolish wishful thinking for someone who knows better, and she carries the bird inside. In the locked bottom drawer of the kitchen desk is a locked metal box, and inside that, the bottle of chloroform.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>She sits on the back brick steps and doesn\u2019t get up as she listens to the distinctive roar of Lucy\u2019s Ferrari.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>It turns off King Street and parks on the shared driveway in front of the house, and then Lucy appears on the patio, an envelope in hand.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cBreakfast isn\u2019t ready, not even coffee,\u201d she says. \u201cYou\u2019re sitting out here and your eyes are red.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cAllergies,\u201d Scarpetta says.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cThe last time you blamed allergies \u2013 which you don\u2019t have, by the way \u2013 was when a bird flew into a window. And you had a dirty trowel on the table just like that.\u201d Lucy points to an old marble table in the garden, a trowel on top of it. Nearby, beneath a pittosporum, is freshly dug earth covered by broken pieces of pottery.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cA finch,\u201d Scarpetta says.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Lucy sits next to her and says, \u201cSo it appears Benton\u2019s not coming for the weekend. When he is, you always have a long grocery list on the counter.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cCan\u2019t get away from the hospital.\u201d The small, shallow pond in the middle of the garden has Chinese jasmine and camellia petals floating in it like confetti.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Lucy picks up a loquat leaf knocked down from a recent rain, twirls it by the stem. \u201cI hope that\u2019s the only reason. You come back from Rome with your big news and what\u2019s different? Nothing that I can tell. He\u2019s there, you\u2019re here. No plans to change that, right?\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cSuddenly you\u2019re the relationship expert?\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cAn expert on ones that go wrong.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cYou\u2019re making me sorry I told anyone,\u201d Scarpetta says.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cI\u2019ve been there. It\u2019s what happened with Janet. We started talking about commitment, about getting married when it finally became legal for perverts to have more rights than a dog. Suddenly, she couldn\u2019t deal with being gay. And it was over before it began. And not in a nice way.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cNot nice? How about unforgivable?\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cI should be the unforgiving one, not you,\u201d Lucy says. \u201cYou weren\u2019t there. You don\u2019t know what it\u2019s like to be there. I don\u2019t want to talk about it.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>A small statue of an angel that watches over the pond. What it protects, Scarpetta has yet to discover. Certainly not birds. Maybe not anything. She gets up and brushes off the back of her skirt.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cIs this why you wanted to talk to me,\u201d she says, \u201cor did it just happen to pop into your mind while I was sitting here feeling awful because I had to euthanize another bird?\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cIt\u2019s not why I called you last night and said I need to see you,\u201d Lucy says, still playing with the leaf.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Her hair, cherrywood-red with highlights of rose-gold, is clean and shiny and tucked behind her ears. She wears a black T-shirt that shows off a beautiful body earned by punishing workouts and good genetics. She\u2019s going somewhere, Scarpetta has a suspicion, but she\u2019s not going to ask. She sits down again.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cDr. Self.\u201d Lucy stares at the garden, the way people stare when they aren\u2019t looking at anything except what\u2019s bothering them.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>It\u2019s not what Scarpetta expected her to say. \u201cWhat about her?\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cI told you to keep her close, always keep your enemies close,\u201d Lucy says. \u201cYou didn\u2019t pay attention. Haven\u2019t cared that she disparages you every chance she gets because of that court case. Says you\u2019re a liar and a professional sham. Just Google yourself on the Internet. I track her, forwarded her bullshit to you, and you barely look at it.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cHow could you possibly know whether I barely look at something?\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cI\u2019m your system administrator. Your faithful IT. I know damn well how long you keep a file open. You could defend yourself,\u201d Lucy says.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cFrom what?\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cAccusations that you manipulated the jury.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cWhat court\u2019s about. Manipulating the jury.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cThat you talking? Or am I sitting with a stranger?\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cIf you\u2019re hog-tied, tortured, and can hear the screams of your loved ones being brutalized and killed in another room, and you take your own life to escape their fate? That\u2019s not a goddamn suicide, Lucy. That\u2019s murder.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cWhat about legally?\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cI really don\u2019t care.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cYou sort of used to.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cI sort of didn\u2019t. You don\u2019t know what\u2019s been in my mind when I\u2019ve worked cases all these years and often found myself the only advocate for the victims. Dr. Self wrongly hid behind her shield of confidentiality and didn\u2019t divulge information that could have prevented profound suffering and death. She deserves worse than she got. Why are we talking about this? Why are you getting me upset?\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Lucy meets her eyes. \u201cWhat do they say? Revenge is best served cold? She\u2019s in contact with Marino again.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cOh, God. As if this past week hasn\u2019t been hell enough. Has he completely lost his mind?\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cWhen you came back from Rome and spread the word, did you think he was going to be happy about it? Do you live in outer space?\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cClearly, I must.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cHow can you not see it? Suddenly he goes out and gets drunk every night, gets a new trashy girlfriend. He\u2019s really picked one this time. Or don\u2019t you know? Shandy Snook, as in Snook\u2019s Flamin\u2019 Chips?\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cFlamin\u2019 what? Who?\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cGreasy, oversalted potato chips flavored with jalape\u00f1o and red pepper sauce. Made her father a fortune. She moved here about a year ago. Met Marino at the Kick \u2019N Horse this past Monday night, and it was love at first sight.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cHe tell you all this?\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cJess told me.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Scarpetta shakes her head, has no idea who Jess is.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cOwns the Kick \u2019N Horse. Marino\u2019s biker hangout, and I know you\u2019ve heard him talk about it. She called me because she\u2019s worried about him and his latest trailer-park paramour, worried about how out of control he\u2019s getting. Jess says she\u2019s never seen him like this.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cHow would Dr. Self know Marino\u2019s e-mail address unless he contacted her first?\u201d Scarpetta asks.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cHer personal e-mail address hasn\u2019t changed since he was her patient in Florida. His has. So I think we can figure out who wrote who first. I can find out for sure. Not that I have the password for the personal e-mail account on his home computer, although minor inconveniences like that have never stopped me. I\u2019d have to\u2026\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cI know what you\u2019d have to do.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cHave physical access.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cI know what you\u2019d have to do, and I don\u2019t want you to. Let\u2019s don\u2019t make this any worse than it is.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cAt least some of the e-mails he\u2019s gotten from her are now on his office desktop for all the world to see,\u201d Lucy says.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cThat makes no sense.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cOf course it does. To make you angry and jealous. Payback.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cAnd you noticed them on his desktop because?\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cBecause of the little emergency last night. When he called me and said he\u2019d been notified that an alarm was going off, indicating the fridge was malfunctioning, and he wasn\u2019t anywhere near the office and could I check. He said if I need to call the alarm company, the number\u2019s on the list taped to his wall.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cAn alarm?\u201d she says, baffled. \u201cNo one notified me.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cBecause it didn\u2019t happen. I get there and everything\u2019s status quo. The fridge is fine. I go into his office to get the number of the alarm company so I can check to be sure everything really is okay, and guess what\u2019s on his desktop.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cThis is ridiculous. He\u2019s acting like a child.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cHe\u2019s no child, Aunt Kay. And you\u2019re going to have to fire him one of these days.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cAnd manage how? I can barely manage now. I\u2019m already short-staffed, without a single eligible person on the horizon to hire.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cThis is just the beginning. He\u2019s going to get worse,\u201d Lucy says. \u201cHe\u2019s not the person you once knew.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cI don\u2019t believe that, and I could never fire him.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cYou\u2019re right,\u201d Lucy says. \u201cYou couldn\u2019t. It would be a divorce. He\u2019s your husband. God knows you\u2019ve spent a hell of a lot more time with him than you have with Benton.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cHe most assuredly isn\u2019t my husband. Don\u2019t goad me, please.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Lucy picks up the envelope from the steps and hands it to her. \u201cSix of them, all from her. Coincidentally, starting on this past Monday, your first day back at work from Rome. The same day we saw your ring and, great sleuths that we are, figured out it wasn\u2019t from Cracker Jacks.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cAny e-mails from Marino to Dr. Self?\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cHe must not want you to see whatever he wrote. I recommend you bite on a stick.\u201d Indicating the envelope and what\u2019s inside it. \u201cHow is he? She misses him. Thinks about him. You\u2019re a tyrant, a has-been, and he must be miserable working for you, and what can she do to help him?\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cWill he never learn?\u201d Mostly, it\u2019s depressing.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cYou should have kept the news from him. How could you not know what it would do to him?\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>Scarpetta notices the purple Mexican petunias climbing the north garden wall. She notices the lavender lantana. They look a bit parched.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cWell, aren\u2019t you going to read the damn things?\u201d Lucy indicates the envelope again.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cI\u2019m not going to give them that power right now,\u201d Scarpetta says. \u201cI have more important things to deal with. That\u2019s why I\u2019m dressed in a damn suit and going into the damn office on a damn Sunday when I could be working in my garden or even going for a damn walk.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cI ran a background check on the guy you\u2019re meeting with this afternoon. Recently, he was the victim of an assault. No suspect. And related to this, he was charged with a misdemeanor for possession of marijuana. The charge was dropped. Beyond that, not even a speeding ticket. But I don\u2019t think you should be alone with him.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cWhat about the brutalized little boy all alone in my morgue? Since you haven\u2019t said anything, I assume your computer searches are still coming up empty-handed.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cIt\u2019s like he didn\u2019t exist.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cWell, he did. And what was done to him is one of the worst things I\u2019ve ever seen. Maybe it\u2019s time we go out on a limb.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cAnd do what?\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cI\u2019ve been thinking about statistical genetics.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cI still can\u2019t believe no one\u2019s doing it,\u201d Lucy says. \u201cThe technology\u2019s there. It\u2019s been there. It\u2019s all so stupid. Alleles are shared among relatives, and, as is true of any other database, it\u2019s all a function of probability.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cA father, mother, sibling would have a higher score. And we\u2019d see it and focus on it. I think we should try it.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cIf we do, what happens if it turns out this little kid was killed by a relative? We use statistical genetics in a criminal case, and what happens in court?\u201d Lucy says.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\n

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Book Preview Book of the Dead Kay Scarpetta (15) by Patricia Cornwell Rome \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Water splashing. A gray mosaic tile tub sunk deep into a terracotta floor. \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Water pours slowly from an old brass spout, and darkness pours through a window. On the other side of old, wavy glass is the piazza, and the … Read more<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":3181,"comment_status":"","ping_status":"","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[172],"class_list":["post-3182","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-uncategorized","tag-patricia-cornwell"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3182","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=3182"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3182\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/3181"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=3182"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=3182"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=3182"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}