“Both. But I always ring the bell. I don’t just walk in on her. I rang the bell and suddenly the door flew open and this person was all over me, attacking me, dragging me inside, and slamming the door shut. That’s who killed her. It’s the same person who’s been following me, spying on me, tormenting me. Or he’s one of them.”

An interval of twenty-four hours was consistent with the age of Oscar’s injuries. But that didn’t mean he was telling the truth.

“Where’s your coat now?” Scarpetta asked.

He was staring at the wall.

“Oscar?”

He stared at the wall.

“Oscar?”

He answered as he stared at the wall, “It’s wherever they took it. The police. I said they could take my car, search it, do whatever they want. But they weren’t going to lay a finger on me. I told them they had to get you here. I would never hurt her.”

“Tell me more about your struggle with whoever was in her house.”

“We were near the door and it was pitch-dark. He was hitting me with the plastic flashlight. He ripped my T-shirt. It’s all ripped up and bloody.”

“You said it was pitch-dark. How do you know it was a flashlight?”

“When he opened the door, he shone it in my eyes, blinding me, then started the attack. We struggled.”

“Did he say anything?”

“All I heard was him breathing hard. Then he ran. He had on a big leather coat and leather gloves. He probably won’t have any injuries. He probably won’t have left his DNA or fibers. Things like that. He was smart.”

Oscar was the one who was smart, offering explanations to unasked questions. And lying.

“I shut the door and locked it and turned on all the lights. I screamed for Terri. The back of my neck feels like a cat clawed me. Hope I don’t get an infection. Maybe you should put me on an antibiotic. I’m glad you’re here. You had to be here. I told them. It all happened so fast, and it was so dark …” Tears, and he began to sob again. “I screamed for Terri.”

“The flashlight?” Scarpetta reminded him. “Was it on during your struggle?”

He hesitated, as if he’d never thought about that.

“He must have turned it off,” he decided. “Or maybe it broke when he was hitting me. Maybe he’s part of some kind of death squad. I don’t know. I don’t care how clever they are. There’s no perfect crime. You always quote Oscar Wilde. ‘Nobody ever commits a crime without doing something stupid.’ Except you. You could get away with it. Only someone like you could commit the perfect crime. You say it all the time.”