“We’ve paged her four times, Dr. Scarpetta. And I’ve gone around looking. I’ll check again. If I locate her, I’ll have her call you immediately.”

“Do you know if she ever showed up at all? She should have gotten there around two.”

“Gosh. I just came on at four. I don’t know.”

I continued calling my car phone.

“The Richmond Cellular customer you have dialed does not answer …”

I tried Marino and he wasn’t home or at headquarters. At six o’clock I stood in the kitchen staring out the window. Snow streaked down in the chalky glow of streetlights. My heart beat hard as I paced from room to room and continued calling my car phone. At half past six I had decided to file a missing person report with the police when the telephone rang. Running back to my study, I was reaching for the receiver when I noticed the familiar number eerily materializing on the Caller ID screen. The calls had stopped after the night of Waddell’s execution I had not thought about them since. Bewildered, I froze, waiting for the expected hang up to. follow my recorded message. I was shocked when I recognized the voice that began to speak.

“I hate to do this to you, Doc…” Snatching up the receiver, I cleared my throat and said in disbelief, “Marino?”

“Yeah,- he said. “I got bad news.”

Kay Scarpetta 4 - Cruel and Unusual

4

Where are you?” I demanded, my eyes riveted to the number on the screen.

“East End, and it’s coming down like a bitch,” Marino said. “We got a DOA. White female. At a glance appears to be your typical CO suicide, car inside the garage, hose hooked up to the exhaust pipe. But the circumstances are a little weird. I think you better come.”

“Where are you placing this call from?” I asked so adamantly that he hesitated. I could feel his surprise.

“The decedent’s house. Just got here. That’s the other thing. It wasn’t secured. The back was unlocked.”

I heard the garage door. “Oh, thank God. Marino, hold on,” I said, flooded with relief.

Paper bags crackled as the kitchen door shut.

Placing my hand over the receiver, I called out, “Lucy, is that you?”

“No, Frosty the Snowman. You ought to see it coming down out there! It’s awesome!”

Reaching for pen and paper, I said to Marino, “The decedent’s name and address?”

“Jennifer Deighton. Two-one- seven Ewing.” I did not recognize the name. Ewing was off Williamsburg Road, not too far from the airport in a neighborhood unfamiliar to me.

Lucy walked into my study as I was hanging up the phone. Her face was rosy from the cold, eyes spark ling.

“Where in God’s name have you been?” I snapped.

Her smile faded. “Errands.”

“Well, we’ll discuss this later. I’ve got to go to a scene.”

She shrugged and returned my irritation. “So what else is new?”

“I’m sorry. It’s not as if I have control over people dying.” Grabbing coat and gloves, I hurried out to the garage. I started the engine, buckled up, adjusted the heat, and studied my directions before remembering the automatic door opener attached to the visor. It’s amazing how quickly an enclosed space will fill with fumes.