Scarpetta had revealed that detail during the meeting just a little while ago, because she no longer was bound by patient-physician confidentiality. It wasn’t right not to divulge the information, but she’d felt uncomfortable doing it. Just because the situation had changed legally didn’t mean it felt that way to her. When Oscar had talked to her and wept so bitterly, he really hadn’t anticipated the day when she’d betray him, no matter how many times she’d warned him and encouraged him to get a good lawyer.

She was so conflicted. She resented him, was incensed by him, because she felt she should be someone he could trust. And she resented him, was incensed by him, because she didn’t want his goddamn trust.

“I need to tell Marino what Y-Twelve has discovered,” Scarpetta said to Berger. “I don’t know how to reach him.”

Berger gave her two numbers and said, “Have you heard anything from Lucy?”

“I thought she might be with you,” Scarpetta said.

“Everybody left about a half-hour ago. She left right after you and Benton did, minutes after you did. I thought she might have caught up with you. She and Morales weren’t getting along.”

“He’s not somebody she would like.”

After a pause, Berger said, “That’s because she doesn’t understand a number of things.”

Scarpetta didn’t respond.

“We get older and there really aren’t absolutes,” Berger said. “There never were.”

Scarpetta wasn’t going to help her.

“You’re not going to talk about it, and that’s fine.” Berger’s voice, still calm, but something else was in it.

Scarpetta shut her eyes and pushed her fingers through her hair, realizing how helpless she felt. She couldn’t change what was happening, and it was foolish and wrong to try.

“Maybe you could save me a little time,” Scarpetta said. “Perhaps you could call Lucy and let her know about the Y-Twelve results. You do it instead of me, and I’ll try to find Marino. And while you have her on the phone, perhaps you might try a different tactic. Be very, very honest with her, even if you think she’ll get incredibly upset or might use it against you. Just give her the facts even if you think it might ruin your case, cause you to lose something. That’s hard for people like us, and that’s all I’m going to say. I’m wondering if Bacardi—God help me, I can’t get used to calling any real person that—would know if either Bethany or Rodrick was seeing a dermatologist in Baltimore or Greenwich in 2003. I noticed in the police report that he was taking Accutane for acne.”

“Implying a dermatologist,” Berger said.

“I would hope so. That’s not an insignificant medication.”

“I’ll pass all this on to Lucy. Thank you.”