He swallowed, fingers laced tightly on top of the table. His knuckles were white.

“We need to pray. Would you pray with me, Dr. Scarpetta?”

He held out his hand. “Please.”

“As his fingers wrapped firmly around mine, I could not help but think of Susan’s obvious disregard for her father and distrust for what he represented. Fundamentalists frightened me, too. I felt anxious shutting my eyes holding hands with the Reverend Mack Dawson as he thanked God for a mercy I saw no evidence of and claimed promises too late for God to keep. Opening my eyes, I withdrew my hand. For an uneasy moment I feared that Susan’s father sensed my skepticism and wou1d question my beliefs. But the fate of my soul was foremost on his mind.

A loud voice sounded from upstairs, a muffled protest could not make out A chair scraped across the floor. The telephone rang and rang, and the voice rose again in a primal outcry of rage and pain. Dawson closed his eyes. He muttered something under his breath that rather strange. I thought he said, “Stay in your room.”

“Jason has been here the whole time.” he said. I could see his pulse pounding in his temples. “I realize he can speak for himself. But I just want you to know this from me.”

“You mentioned he’s not feeling well.”

“He woke up with a cold, the beginning of one. Susan took his temperature after lunch and encouraged him to go to bed. He would never hurt… Well.” He coughed “I know the police have to ask, have to consider domestic situations. But that’s not the case here.”

“Reverend Dawson, what time did Susan leave the house today, and where did she say she was going?”

“She left after dinner; after Jason went to bed. I think that would have been around one-thirty or two: She said she was going. over to a friend’s house.”

“Which friend?” He stared past me. “A friend she went to high school with. Dianne Lee.”

“Where does Dianne live?”

“Northside, near the seminary.”

“Dianne’s car was found off Strawberry Street, not in Northside.”

“I suppose if somebody … She could have ended up anywhere.”

“It would be helpful to know if she ever made it to Dianne’s house, and whose idea the visit was,” I said.

He got up and started opening kitchen drawers. It took him three tries to find the telephone directory. His hands trembled as he turned pages and dialed a number. Clearing his throat several times, he asked to speak to Dianne. “I see. What was that?” He listened for a moment. “No, no.” His voice shook. “Things are not all right.”