‘Who did he hire?’ I asked.
‘Anthony Jones.’ Tucker looked at me.
My astonishment grew and I was shocked by what he told me next.
‘The person who was supposed to get shot Christmas Eve was not Anthony Jones but you.’
I was speechless.
‘That entire scenario of going to the wrong apartment in Whitcomb Court was for the purpose of taking you out. But when the sheriff went through the kitchen and into the backyard, he and Jones got into an argument. You know what happened.’
He got up. ‘Now the sheriff is dead too and, frankly, you’re lucky.’
‘Colonel Tucker,’ I said.
He stood by my bed.
‘Did you know about this before it happened?’
‘Are you asking me if I’m clairvoyant?’ His face was grim.
‘I think you know what I’m asking.’
‘We had our eye on you. But no, we did not know until after the fact that Christmas Eve was when you were supposed to be killed. Obviously, had we known, you never would have been out riding around, delivering blankets.’
He looked down at the floor, thinking, before he spoke again. ‘You’re sure you’re ready to check out of here?’
‘Yes.’
‘Where do you plan to go tonight?’
‘Home.’
He shook his head. ‘Out of the question. Nor do I recommend a local hotel.’
‘Marino has agreed to stay with me.’
‘Oh, now I bet that’s safe,’ he said wryly as he opened the door. ‘Get dressed, Dr. Scarpetta. We have a meeting to attend.’
When I emerged from my hospital room not much later, I was met by stares and few words. Lucy and Janet were with Marino, and Paul Tucker was alone, a Gortex jacket on.
‘Dr. Scarpetta, you ride with me.’ He nodded at Marino. ‘You follow with the young ladies.’
We walked along a polished white hallway toward elevators and headed down. Uniformed officers were everywhere, and when glass doors slid open outside the emergency room, three of them appeared to escort us to our cars. Marino and the chief had parked in police slots, and when I saw Tucker’s personal car, I felt another spasm in my chest. He drove a black Porsche 911. It was not new, but it was in excellent condition.
Marino saw the car, too. He remained silent as he unlocked his Crown Victoria.
‘Were you on 95 South last night?’ I asked Tucker as soon as we were inside his car.
He pulled his shoulder harness across his chest and started the engine. ‘Why would you ask me that?’ He did not sound defensive, only curious.
‘I was coming home from Quantico and a car similar to this one was tailgating us.’
‘Who is us?’
‘I was with Marino.’
‘I see.’ He turned right outside the parking deck, toward headquarters. ‘So you were with the Grand Dragon.’
‘Then it was you,’ I said as wipers pushed away snow.
Streets were slick and I felt the car slip as Tucker slowed at a traffic light.
‘I did see a Confederate flag bumper sticker last night,’ he said. ‘And I did express my lack of appreciation for it.’
‘The truck it was on is Marino’s.’
‘I did not care whose truck it was.’
I looked over at him.
‘Serves the captain right.’ He laughed.
‘Do you always act so aggressively?’ I asked. ‘Because it’s a good way to get shot.’
‘One is always welcome to try.’
‘I don’t recommend tailgating and taunting rednecks.’
‘At least you admit he is a redneck.’
‘I meant the comment in general,’ I said.
‘You are an intelligent, refined woman, Dr. Scarpetta. I fail to understand what you see in him.’
‘There is a lot to see in him if one takes the trouble to look.’
‘He is racist. He is homophobic and chauvinistic. He’s one of the most ignorant human beings I’ve ever met, and I wish he were some other person’s problem.’
‘He doesn’t trust anything or anyone,’ I said. ‘He’s cynical, and not without reason, I’m sure.’
Tucker was quiet.
‘You don’t know him,’ I added.
‘I don’t want to know him. What I’d like is for him to disappear.’
‘Please don’t do anything that wrong,’ I said with feeling. ‘You would be making such a mistake.’