Back Depraved Heart
Chapters (55)
  1. Cover
  2. Copyright
  3. Dedication
  4. Chapter 1
  5. Chapter 2
  6. Chapter 3
  7. Chapter 4
  8. Chapter 5
  9. Chapter 6
  10. Chapter 7
  11. Chapter 8
  12. Chapter 9
  13. Chapter 10
  14. Chapter 11
  15. Chapter 12
  16. Chapter 13
  17. Chapter 14
  18. Chapter 15
  19. Chapter 16
  20. Chapter 17
  21. Chapter 18
  22. Chapter 19
  23. Chapter 20
  24. Chapter 21
  25. Chapter 22
  26. Chapter 23
  27. Chapter 24
  28. Chapter 25
  29. Chapter 26
  30. Chapter 27
  31. Chapter 28
  32. Chapter 29
  33. Chapter 30
  34. Chapter 31
  35. Chapter 32
  36. Chapter 33
  37. Chapter 34
  38. Chapter 35
  39. Chapter 36
  40. Chapter 37
  41. Chapter 38
  42. Chapter 39
  43. Chapter 40
  44. Chapter 41
  45. Chapter 42
  46. Chapter 43
  47. Chapter 44
  48. Chapter 45
  49. Chapter 46
  50. Chapter 47
  51. Chapter 48
  52. One Week Later
  53. About the Author
  54. Also by Patricia Cornwell
  55. About the Publisher

Their relationship was sexual. At least to her.

“See these?” I point at the photographs.

“Yeah I think you’re right.” Marino is looking over my shoulder. “It’s Chanel Gilbert. Obviously she was a big diver.”

“She doesn’t seem to be afraid of much.”

“Or else she was stupid. Anybody who tries to get the hook out of a shark’s mouth is stupid if you ask me.”

“I doubt she was stupid and we need to seriously question who she really was.” I look at my watch and it’s close to four.

“Her dental records …,” he starts to say.

“Yes they seem to confirm she’s Chanel Gilbert but I think it’s like everything else we’re seeing, Marino. Nothing is what it appears to be. Including her.”

I walk out of the library before he can answer. I don’t wait for him to pack up his scene case.

“Hey! Wait up!” he yells but I’m not waiting for him or anyone.

He hurries after me, clutching the scene case, his Tyvek-covered feet thudding and sliding along the wooden hallway. It dead-ends at the master wing, an addition with oak floors and paneling that are different from what I’ve seen in other rooms. The stylistic elements are Gothic Revival, possibly mid-nineteenth century, the doorway an elaborate pointed arch. Inside are cluster columns and decorative molding. The drapes are drawn.

I flip on the lights and I’m a specter, a quiet vengeful presence working my fingers into a pair of black nitrile gloves. I don’t move from the doorway as I look inside at the messy antique bed ornately carved with animals that watch over the room like gargoyles.

Chapter 38

CHAPTER 38

THE COVERS ARE PULLED BACK AS IF CHANEL GILBERT just got up and will return any second. That’s assuming she was the one sleeping in here. That’s assuming she was sleeping alone.

She—or someone—didn’t bother to make the bed or even straighten it. She didn’t get dressed. What happened? Did someone unexpected appear at the door? Was her killer already inside the house? The questions are landing fast, one after another, and I wonder if it was Chanel’s habit to sleep nude. Did she get up and put on the black silk robe she was wearing when her body was found? Was she naked for some other reason?