BLACK NOTICE. PATRICIA CORNWELL

“I know what it was,” she suddenly said. “Secretary Wagner wanted you to meet with him and you told me to let him know you couldn’t at that time.”

“What?” I exclaimed.

“This was early last week;’ she added.

“E-mail again?”

“Sometimes it’s the only way to get hold of people these days. His assistant e-mailed me and I e-mailed you-you were in court somewhere. Then you e-mailed me back that evening, I guess from home.”

“This is crazy;’ I said, my mind running after possibilities and catching nothing.

Everyone in my office had my e-mail address. But no one except me should have my password, and obviously, no one could sign on as me without it. Rose was thinking the same thing.

“I don’t know how this could happen,” she said, then exclaimed, “Wait a minute. Ruth sets up AOL on each person’s computer.”

Ruth Wilson was my computer analyst.

“Of course. And she had to have my password in’order to do that,” I carried out the thought. “But Rose, she would never do anything like this.”

“Never in a million years;” Rose agreed. “But she must have the passwords written down somewhere. She couldn’t possibly remember all of them.”

“One would think so.”

“Why don’t you get inside the car before you die of exposure;” she said.

“You go on home and get some rest,” I replied. “I’m going to do the same thing.”

“Of course you won’t;” she chided me. “You’ll go right back into your office and try to figure everything out.”

She was right. I walked back to the building as she drove off, and I wondered how I could be so foolish as to have gone out the door without a coat. I was stiff and numb. The night guard shook his head.

“Dr. Scarpetta, you need to dress warmer than that!”

“You’re absolutely right,” I said.

I passed the magnetic key over the lock and the first set of glass doors clicked free, then I unlocked the one to my wing of the building. It was absolutely silent inside, and when I turned into Ruth’s office, I stood for a moment, just looking around at upright microcomputers and printers, and a map on a screen that showed if the connections to our other offices were trouble-free.

The floor behind her desk was a thick hank of cables, and printouts of software programming that made no sense to me were stacked all over the place. I scanned crammed bookshelves. I walked over to filing cabinets and tried to open a drawer. Every one of them was locked.

Good for you, Ruth, I thought.

I returned to my office and tried her home number.

“Hello?” she answered.

She sounded harried. There was a baby screaming in the background, and her husband was saying something about a frying pan.

“I’m sorry to bother you at home,” I said.

“Dr. Scarpetta,” she was very surprised. “You’re not bothering me. Frank, can you take her in the other room?”

“I’ve got just one quick question,” I said. “Is there a place you keep all our AOL passwords?”

“Is there a problem?” she quickly replied.

“It appears someone knows my password and is signing on to AOL as me.” I didn’t mince words. “I want to know how someone could possibly have gotten hold of my password. Is there any way?”

“Oh, no,” she said, dismayed. “Are you sure?”

“Yes:’

“Obviously, you haven’t told anybody what it is,” she suggested.

I thought hard for a moment. Not even Lucy knew my password. Nor would she care.

“Other than you,” I said to Ruth, “I can’t imagine who.”

“You know I wouldn’t give it to anyone!”

“I believe that,” I replied, and I did.

For one thing, Ruth would never jeopardize her job that way.

“I keep everyone’s addresses and passwords in a computer file that no one can access,” she said.

“What about a hard copy?”

“In a file in a filing cabinet, which I keep locked.”

“At all times?”

She hesitated, then said, “Well, not all the time. Certainly after hours, but they’re unlocked much of the day, unless I’m in and out a lot. But I’m in my office most of the time. Really, it’s only when I get coffee and eat lunch in the break room.”

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