“Hell, yes,” Marino said. “But he’s going to know, there’s something strange about belongings from the farm being given to this friend of Waddells. Norring starts seeing that damn briefcase in his nightmares again, and to make matters worse, he can’t have someone just barge into Jennifer Deighton’s house while Waddell’s still alive. If something happens to her, there’s no telling what Waddell will do. And the worst possibility would be if he started singing to Grueman.”

“Benton,” I said, “would you happen to know why Norring was carrying epinephrine? What is he allergic to?”

“Apparently, to shellfish. Apparently, he keeps EpiPens all over the place.”

While they continued to talk,, I checked the lasagna in the oven and opened a bottle of Kendall Jackson. The case against Norring would take a very long time, if it could be proven at all, and I thought I understood, to a degree, how Waddell must have felt It wasn’t until close to eleven P.M. that I called Nicholas Grueman at home.

“I’m finished in. Virginia,” I said. “As long as Norring is in office, he’ll make sure I won’t be. They’ve taken my life, goddamn it, but I’m not giving them my soul. I plan to take the Fifth every time.”

“You will certainly be indicted.”

“Considering the bastards I’m up against, I think that’s a certainty anyway.”

“My, my, Dr. Scarpetta. Have you forgotten the bastard representing you? I don’t know where you spent your weekend, but I spent mine in London.”

I felt the blood drain from my face.

“Now, there’s no guaranteeing that we can slide this around Patterson,” said this man I used to think I hated, “but I’m going to move heaven and earth to get Charlie Hale on the stand.”

14 January 20 was as windy as March but much colder, and the sun was blinding. as I drove east on Broad Street toward the John Marshall courthouse.

“Now I will tell you something else you already know,” Nicholas Grueman said. “The press is going to be churning up the water like bluefish on a feeding frenzy. You fly too low, you lose a leg. We’ll walk side by side, eyes cast down, and don’t turn and look at anyone no matter who it is or what he says.”

“We’re not going to find a parking place,” I said, turning left on 9th. “I knew this would happen.”

“Slow down. That good woman right there on the side is doing something. Wonderful. She’s leaving, if she can ever get the wheels turned enough.

A horn blared behind me.

I glanced at my watch then turned to Grueman like an athlete awaiting last-minute instruction from the coach. He wore a long navy blue cashmere coat and black leather gloves, his silver-topped cane leaning against seat and a battle-scarred briefcase in his lap.