“Oh, Mack,” she said in a weak voice. “Oh, Mack.” She began to sob.

He put his arm around her, pulling her close. His face blanched and he pressed his lips together as Marino explained what had happened.

“Yes, I know where Strawberry Street is,” Susan’s father said. “I don’t know why she would have gone there. To my knowledge, it’s not an area where she normally went. Nothing would have been open today. I don’t know.”

“Do you know where her husband, Jason Story, is?” Marino asked.

“He’s here.”

“Here?”

Marino glanced around.

“Upstairs, asleep Jason’s not feeling well.”

“The children are whose?”

“Tom and Marie’s. Tom’s our son. They’re visiting for the holidays and left early this afternoon. For Tidewater. To visit friends. They should be home anytime.”

He reached for his wife’s hand. “Millie, these people have a lot of questions to ask. You’d better get Jason.”

“I tell you what,” Marino said. “I’d rather talk to him alone for a minute. Maybe you could take me to him?”

Mrs. Dawson nodded, hiding her face in her hands.

“I think you best check on Charlie and Hailey,” her husband said to her. “See if you can get your sister on the phone. Maybe she can come.”

His pale blue eyes followed his wife and Marino out of the kitchen. Susan’s father was tall, with fine bones, his dark brown hair thick, with very little gray. His gestures were economical, his emotions well contained. Susan had gotten her looks from him and perhaps her disposition.

“Her car is old. She has nothing of value to steal, and I know she would not have been involved. Not in drugs or anything.” He searched my face.

“We don’t know why this happened, Reverend Dawson.”

“She was pregnant” he said, the words catching in his throat. “How could anyone?”

“I don’t know”’ I said. “I don’t know how.”

He coughed. “She did not own a gun.”

For a moment, I did not know what he meant. Then I realized, and reassured him, “No. The police did not find a gun. There’s no evidence she did this to herself.”

“The police? You aren’t the police?”

“No. I’m the chief medical examiner. Kay Scarpetta.”

He stared numbly at me.

“Your daughter worked for me.”

“Oh. Of course. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t know how to comfort you,” I said with difficulty.

“I haven’t begun to deal with this myself. But I’m going to do everything possible to find out what happened. I want you to know that.”

“Susan spoke of you. She always wanted to be a doctor.”

He averted his gaze, blinking back tears.

“I saw her last night. Briefly, at her home.”

I hesitated, reluctant to probe the soft places of their lives. “Susan seemed troubled. And she has not been herself at work of late.”