Patricia Cornwell – Scarpetta11 – The Last Precinct

“From there you returned to the hotel, got into a cab and went to lie Saint-Louis, where the Chandonne family lives. You walked around after dark, staring up at the Chandonne home, then got a water sample from the Seine.”

What she has just said sends electrical shocks through my every cell. Sweat rolls in cold tickles beneath my blouse. I never told Jay what I did after I left him in the restaurant. How does Berger know all this? How did Jay know if he is the one who told her? Marino. How much has Marino volun­teered to her?

“What was your real purpose in finding the Chandonne house? What did you think that might tell you?” Berger asks.

“If I knew what something would tell me, I wouldn’t need to investigate,” I reply. “As for the water sample, as you must know from the lab reports, we found diatoms, or microscopic algae, on the clothing of the unidentified body from the Rich­mond portfrom Thomas’s body. I wanted a water sample from near the Chandonne home to see if there was any chance the same type of diatom might be present in that area of the Seine. And it was. Freshwater diatoms were consistent with those I found on the inside of the clothing on the body, Thomas’s body, and none of this matters. You aren’t trying Jean-Baptiste for the murder of his alleged brother, since that probably happened in Belgium. You’ve already made that clear.”

“But the water sample is important.”

“Why?”

“Anything that happened reveals more to me about the de­fendant and possibly leads to motive. More importantly, to identity and intent.”

Identity and intent. Those words roar through my mind like a train. I am a lawyer. I know what those words mean.

“Why did you take the water sample? Do you routinely go around collecting evidence that isn’t directly associated with a body? Collecting water samples really isn’t your jurisdiction, in other words, especially in a foreign country. Why did you go to France to begin with? Isn’t that a little out of the ordi­nary for a medical examiner?”

“Interpol summoned me. You just pointed that out your­self.”

“Jay Talley summoned you, more specifically.”

“He represents Interpol. He’s the ATF liaison.”

“I’m wondering why he really orchestrated your going there.” She pauses to allow that chilly fear to touch my brain. It occurs to me that Jay may have manipulated me for reasons I am not sure I can bear to entertain. “Talley has many layers,” Berger adds cryptically. “If Jean-Baptiste was tried here, I fear Talley would more likely be used by the defense than by the prosecution. Possibly to discredit you as a witness.”

Heat crawls up my neck. My face burns. Fear rips through me like shrapnel, tearing apart any hope I have had that some­thing like this would not happen. “Let me ask you some­thing.” My outrage is complete. It is all I can do to steady my voice. “Is there anything you don’t know about my life?”

“Quite a bit.”

“Why is it I feel that I’m the one about to get indicted, Ms. Berger?”

“I don’t know. Why do you feel that way?”

“I’m trying not to take any of this personally. But it’s get­ting harder by the minute.”

Berger doesn’t smile. Resolve turns her eyes to flint and hardens her tone. “It’s going to get very personal. I highly rec­ommend you don’t take it that way. You of all people know how it works. The actual commission of a crime is incidental to the real damage its ripples do. Jean-Baptiste Chandonne didn’t inflict a single blow on you at the time he broke into your house. It’s now he begins to hurt you. He has hurt you. He will hurt you. Even though he’s locked up, he will inflict blows on you daily. He has started a deadly, cruel process, the violation of Kay Scarpetta. It’s begun. I’m sorry. It’s a fact of life that you know all too well.”

I silently return her stare. My mouth is dry. My heart seems to beat out of rhythm.

“It isn’t fair, is it?” she says with the sharp edge of a pros­ecutor who knows how to dismantle human beings as com­pletely as I do. “But then, I’m sure your patients wouldn’t enjoy being naked on your table and under your knife, to have their pockets and orifices explored, if they knew. And yes, there’s a hell of a lot I don’t know about your life. And yes, you aren’t going to like my probing. And yes, you will coop- erate if you’re the person I’ve heard you are. And yes, god­damn it, I desperately need your help or this case is fucked to the moon.”

Pages: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125 126 127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135 136 137 138 139 140 141 142 143 144 145 146 147 148 149 150 151 152 153 154 155 156 157 158 159 160 161 162 163 164 165 166 167 168 169 170 171 172 173 174 175 176 177 178 179 180 181 182 183 184 185 186 187 188 189 190 191 192 193 194 195 196 197 198 199 200 201 202 203 204 205 206 207 208 209 210 211 212 213 214 215 216 217

Leave a Reply 0

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *