His jailwear has been traded for a double-breasted black suit with wide pinstripes that looks Versace, and a white shirt with gold cuff links, and a rusty red-and-brown silk tie that brings to mind Hermès. I’ve never met the billionaire industrialist or seen him in person, but he’s instantly recognizable, handsome in a bohemian way, with long, snow-white hair he wears in a single braid, his eyes the pale blue of faded denim, his nose and cheekbones strong and proud like a Native American chief. For a second we are staring at each other, his gaze unflinching, as if he demands something and has no fear of me, and I turn away.

“For the benefit of the jury,” Donoghue resumes in the same collegial tone, as if we work together, as if I’m on her team, “would you please state your name, occupation, and where you work?”

“My name is Kay Scarpetta.”

“Do you have a middle name?”

“I don’t.”

“You were born Kay Scarpetta, with no middle name.”

“I was.”

“Named after your father, Kay Marcellus Scarpetta the Third, correct?”

“That’s correct.”

“A Miami grocer who died when you were a child.”

“Yes.”

“Do you have a married name?”

“I do not.”

“But you’re married. Actually, divorced and remarried.”

“Yes.”

“Currently you’re married to Benton Wesley.” As if I might be married to someone else a month from now.

“Yes, I am,” I answer.

“But you didn’t take your first husband’s name. And you didn’t take Benton Wesley’s name when you finally got married to him.”

“I did not,” I say, as I look at men and women on the jury, who, if they are married, likely share a surname.

First box checked. Make me different so they can’t relate to me and might disapprove.

“What is your occupation, and where do you work?” Jill Donoghue says, in the same friendly tone.

“I’m a forensic radiologic pathologist employed as the chief medical examiner and director of the Cambridge Forensic Center,” I say to the jury, nine men and three women, two of them African American, five of them Asian, four of them possibly Hispanic, one white.

“When you refer to yourself as chief medical examiner and director of the Cambridge Forensic Center, which from this point on I will refer to as the CFC, does this also include other areas of Massachusetts?”

“Yes, it does. All medical-examiner cases and related scientific analysis in the Commonwealth of Massachusetts are managed by the CFC.”

“Dr. Scarpetta . . . ,” she starts to say, pausing, the flipping of pages amplified by the microphone. “And I call you doctor because you are in fact a medical doctor with a number of subspecialties, isn’t that right?”

She’s giving me professional credibility before she takes it away.

“Yes.”

“Dr. Scarpetta, am I correct in adding that you also serve in an official capacity with the Department of Defense?” she inquires.