Sonny Quinn was the eleven-year-old son of Christian Science parents. He had died eight weeks ago, and although there had never been any question as to his cause of death, at least not in my mind, I had finalized nothing until further studies and tests had been completed. In short, the boy had died because he had not received proper medical treatment. His parents had violently protested the autopsy. They had gone on television and accused me of religious persecution and of mutilating their child’s body.

Rose had endured my feelings about this many times by now, and she asked, “Do you want to call them?”

“Want has nothing to do with it. So, yes.”

She shuffled through Sonny Quinn’s thick case file and jotted down a phone number for me.

“Good luck,” she said as she passed through the adjoining doorway.

I dialed, with dread in my heart.

“Mrs. Quinn?” I said when a woman answered.

“Yes.”

“This is Dr. Kay Scarpetta. I have the results from Sonny’s . . .”

“Haven’t you hurt us enough?”

“I thought you might like to know why your son died . . .”

“I don’t need you to tell me anything about my son,” she snapped.

I could hear someone taking the phone from her as my heart hammered.

“This is Mr. Quinn,” said the man whose shield was religious freedom and whose son, as a result, was dead.

“Sonny’s cause of death was acute pneumonia due to acute diabetic ketoacidosis due to acute onset of diabetes mellitus. I’m sorry for your pain, Mr. Quinn.”

“This is all a mistake. An error.”

“There’s no mistake, Mr. Quinn. No error,” I said, and it was all I could do to keep the anger out of my voice. “I can only suggest that if your other young children show Sonny’s same symptoms that you get them medical treatment immediately. So you don’t have to suffer this way again . . .”

“I don’t need some medical examiner telling me how to raise my children,” he coldly said. “Lady, I’ll see you in court.”

That you will, I thought, for I knew the Commonwealth would charge him and his wife with felony child abuse and neglect.

“Don’t you call us anymore,” said Mr. Quinn, and he hung up on me.

I returned the receiver to its cradle with a heavy heart and looked up to see Teun McGovern standing in the hallway, just outside my door. I could tell by the look on her face that she had heard every word.

“Teun, come in,” I said.