“I know you will,” Scarpetta said. “I know you’ll tell her whatever she needs to hear.”

Benton was out of the shower and wrapped in a thick robe, stretched out on the bed. He was scrolling through something on his laptop, and Scarpetta moved it out of the way and sat next to him. She noticed the red thumb drive plugged into a port.

“I’m not clean yet,” she said. “I probably smell like death. Would you still respect me if I told a lie?”

“Depends on who it’s to.”

“To another doctor.”

“Well, then, that’s fine. For future reference, lawyers are preferable if you’re going to lie to someone.”

“I went to law school and don’t appreciate lawyer jokes,” she said, smiling.

She combed her fingers through his hair. It was still damp.

She added, “I’ll tell my lie in front of you, and it won’t seem as much a sin. I can’t wait to get in the shower and brush my teeth. And these …”

Realizing she still had her dirty shoes in one hand while she touched his hair with the other.

“I thought you were going to wait and take a shower with me,” she said. “And we’d wash our shoes.”

“I planned to take a second one,” he said. “I haven’t washed my shoes yet.”

Scarpetta got up from the bed and used the landline.

This time she didn’t call Dr. Stuart’s presidential suite directly or her cell phone, she tried the St. Regis front desk. She said she was from CNN and trying to reach Dr. Stuart, who she realized stayed there under the name of Dr. Oxford.

“Hold on, please.”

And then Dr. Stuart was on the line.

Scarpetta told her who she was, and Dr. Stuart said brusquely, “I don’t discuss my patients.”

“And I generally don’t discuss other doctors on television,” Scarpetta said. “But I might make an exception.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means what it means, Dr. Stuart. At least one of your patients has been murdered in the past twenty-four hours, and another one is being accused of that murder and another murder, and more charges could follow, and he’s vanished. As for Eva Peebles, who also was murdered last night? I don’t know if she’s one of your patients. But what I do know is that forensic evidence indicates you’d be wise to be helpful. For example? I’m wondering if a certain woman from Palm Beach who has a home in New York might also be your patient.”

Scarpetta gave her the name of the paraplegic whose DNA was found in Terri Bridges’s vagina.

“You absolutely know I can’t release information about my patients.”

Dr. Stuart said it in a way that confirmed the woman was her patient.