BLACK NOTICE. PATRICIA CORNWELL

“Let them know the body’s in very sorry shape,” I emphasized.

“How are you going to get there?” Rose asked. “I’d tell you to stop here first and get the Suburban, but Chuck’s taken it in for an oil change.”

“I thought he was sick.”

“He showed up fifteen minutes ago and left with the Suburban.”

“Okay, I’ll have to use my own car. Rose, I’m going to need the Ltuna-Lite and a hundréd-foot extension cord. Have someone meet me in the parking lot with them. I’ll call when I’m close.”

“You need to know that Jean’s in a bit of an uproar.”

“What’s the problem?” I asked, surprised.

Jean Adams was the office administrator and she rarely showed emotion, much less got upset.

“Apparently all the coffee money disappeared. You know this isn’t the first time. . .”

“Damn!” I said. “Where was it kept?”

“Locked up in Jean’s desk drawer, like always. Doesn’t look like the lock was pried open or anything, but she went into the drawer this morning, no money. A hundred and eleven dollars and thirty-five cents.”

“This has got to stop,” I said.

“I don’t know if you’re aware of the latest;” Rose went on. “Lunches have started disappearing from the break room. Last week Cleta accidentally left her portable phone on her desk overnight and the next morning it was gone. Same thing happened to Dr. Riley. He left a nice pen in the pocket of his lab coat. Next morning, no pen”

“The crew that cleans up after hours?”

“Maybe;” Rose said. “But I will tell you, Dr. Scarpettaand I’m not trying to accuse anyone-I’m afraid it might be an inside job:’

“You’re right. We shouldn’t accuse anyone. Is there any good news today?”

“Not so far,” Rose matter-of-factly replied.

Rose had worked for me since I had been appointed chief medical examiner, which meant she had been running my life for most of my career. She had the remarkable ability to know virtually everything going on around her without getting caught up in it herself. My secretary remained untainted, and although the staff was somewhat afraid of her, she was the first one they ran to when there was a problem. .

“Now you take care of yourself, Dr. Scarpetta,” she went on. “You sound awful. Why don’t you let Jack go to the scene and you stay in for once?”

“I’ll just take my car,” I said as a wave of grief rolled over me and sounded in my voice.

Rose caught it and rode it out in silence. I could hear her shuffling through papers on her desk. I knew she wanted to somehow comfort me, but I had never allowed that.

“Well, make sure you change before you get back in it,” she finally said.

“Change what?”

“Your clothes. Before you get back into your car,” she said as if rd never dealt with a decomposed body before.

“Thank you, Rose,” I said.

3

I set the burglar alarm and locked the house, turning on the light in the garage, where I opened a spacious locker built of cedar, with vents along the top and bottom. Inside were hiking boots, waders, heavy leather gloves and a Barbour coat with its special waterproofing that reminded me of wax.

Out here I kept socks, long underwear, jumpsuits and other gear that would never see the inside of my house. Their end of tour landed them in the industrial-size stainless steel sink and washer and dryer not meant for my normal clothes.

I tossed a jumpsuit, a pair of black leather Reeboks and an Office of Chief Medical Examiner, or OCME, baseball cap inside the trunk. I checked my large Halliburton aluminum scene case to make sure I had plenty of latex gloves, heavy-duty trash bags, disposable sheets, camera and film. I set out with a heavy heart ss Benton’s words drifted through my mind again. I tried to block out his voice, his eyes and smile and the feel of his skin. I wanted to forget him and more than anything, I didn’t.

I turned on the radio as I followed the Downtown Expressway to 1-95, the Richmond skyline sparkling in the

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