Police were blamed. Even I was if the statistics compiled by my office didn’t suit the politicians or if convictions were slow to come in court. The irrationality of it all never ceased to appall me, for it did not seem to occur to those in power that there is such a thing as preventive medicine, and it is, after all, the only way to halt a lethal disease. It truly is better to vaccinate against polio, for example, than to deal with it after the fact. I closed the log and walked out of the office, my shoes carrying me wetly along the empty corridor.
I turned into the locker room because I was already getting chilled. I hurried out of my sticky suit and blouse and struggled into scrubs, which were always more unwilling the more I rushed. I put on my lab coat, and dried my hair with a towel, running my fingers through it to push it out of my way. The face staring back at me in the mirror looked anxious and tired. I had been neither eating nor sleeping well, and was less disciplined with coffee and alcohol. All of it showed around my eyes. A good deal of it was due to my underlying helpless anger and fear brought about by Carrie. We had no idea where she was, but in my mind she was everywhere.
I went into the break room, where Fielding, who avoided caffeine, was making herb tea. His healthy obsessions did not make me feel any better. I had not exercised in over a week.
‘Good morning, Dr Scarpetta,’ he said cheerfully.
‘Let’s hope so,’ I replied, reaching for the coffeepot. ‘Looks like our caseload is fairly light so far. I’m leaving it up to you, and you can run staff conference. I’ve got a lot to do.’
Fielding was crisp and fresh in a yellow shirt with French cuffs, and vivid tie and creased black slacks. He was cleanly shaven and smelled good. Even his shoes were shined, because unlike me, he never let life’s circumstances interfere with how he took care of himself.
‘I don’t see how you do it,’ I said, looking him up and down. ‘Jack, don’t you ever suffer from normal things, like depression, stress, cravings for chocolate, cigarettes, Scotch?’
‘I tend to overcondition when I get whacked out,’ he said, sipping his tea and eyeing me through steam. ‘That’s when I get injured.’
He thought for a moment.
‘I guess the worst thing I do, now that you have me thinking about it, is I shut out my wife and kids. Find excuses not to be home. I’m an insensitive bastard and they hate me for a while. So yes, I’m self destructive, too. But I promise,’ he said to me, ‘if you would just find time to fast-walk, ride a bike, do a few push-ups, maybe crunches, I swear you’d be amazed.’
He walked off, adding, ‘The body’s natural morphines, right?’
‘Thanks,’ I called after him, sorry I asked.
I had barely settled behind my desk when Rose appeared, her hair pinned up, fit for a CEO in her smart, navy blue suit.
‘I didn’t know you were here,’ she said, setting dictated protocols on top of a stack. ‘ATF just called. McGovern.’
‘Yes?’ I asked with interest. ‘Do you know about what?’
‘She said she was in D.C. over the weekend and needs to see you.’
‘When and about what?’
I began signing letters.
‘She should be here soon,’ Rose said.
I glanced up in surprise.
‘She called from her car and told me to let you know that she was almost to Kings Dominion and should be here in twenty or thirty minutes,’ Rose went on.
‘Then it must be important,’ I muttered, opening a cardboard file of slides.
I swung around and removed the plastic cover from my microscope and turned on the illuminator.
‘Don’t feel you have to drop everything,’ said the ever protective Rose. ‘It’s not as if she made an appointment or even asked if you could fit her in.’
I set a slide on the stage and peered through the eyepiece lens at a tissue section of pancreas, at pink and shrunken cells that looked hyalinized, or scarred.