PATRICIA CORNWELL. Unnatural Exposure

‘You got any Tylenol?’ she asked.

‘No acetaminophen with alcohol.’ I opened a drawer and got out a bottle of Motrin instead.

‘For starters,’ she said, taking two, ‘this wouldn’t have been easy if your screen name wasn’t the same as your real one: KSCARPETTA.’

‘I made it easy deliberately, for my colleagues to send me mail,’ I explained one more time.

‘You made it easy for anyone to send you mail.’ She looked accusingly at me. ‘Have you gotten crank mail before?’

‘I think this goes beyond crank mail.’

‘Please answer my question.’

‘A few things. Nothing to worry about.’ I paused, then went on, ‘Generally after a lot of publicity because of some big case, a sensational trial, whatever.’

‘You should change your user name.’

‘No,’ I said. ‘Deadoc might want to send me something else. I can’t change it now.’

‘Oh great.’ She put her glasses back on. ‘So now you want him to be a pen pal.’

‘Lucy, please,’ I quietly said, and I was getting a headache, too. ‘We both have a job to do.’

She was quiet for a moment. Then she apologized. ‘I guess I’m just as overly protective of you as you’ve always been of me.’

‘I still am.’ I patted her knee. ‘Okay, so he got my screen name from the AOL directory of subscribers, right?’

She nodded. ‘Let’s talk about your AOL profile.’

‘There’s nothing in it but my professional title, my office phone number and address,’ I said. ‘I never entered personal details, such as marital status, date of birth, hobbies, et cetera. I have more sense than that.’

‘Have you checked out his profile?’ she asked. ‘The one for deadoc?’

‘Frankly, it never occurred to me that he would have one,’ I said.

Depressed, I thought of saw marks I could not tell apart, and felt I had made yet one more mistake this day.

‘Oh, he’s got one, all right.’ Lucy was typing again. ‘He wants you to know who he is. That’s why he wrote it.’

She clicked to the Member Directory, and when she opened deadoc’s profile, I could not believe what was before my eyes. I scanned key words that could be searched by anyone interested in finding other users to whom they applied.

Attorney, autopsy, chief, Chief Medical Examiner, Cornell, corpse, death, dismemberment, FBI, forensic, Georgetown, Italian, Johns Hopkins, judicial, killer, lawyer, medical, pathologist, physician, Scuba, Virginia, woman.

The list went on, the professional and personal information, the hobbies, all describing me.

‘It’s like deadoc’s saying he’s you,’ Lucy said.

I was dumbfounded and suddenly felt very cold. ‘This is crazy.’

Lucy pushed back her chair and looked at me. ‘He’s got your profile. In cyberspace, on the World Wide Web, you’re both the same person with two different screen names.’

‘We are not the same person. I can’t believe you said that.’ I looked at her, shocked.

‘The photographs are yours and you sent them to yourself. It was easy. You simply scanned them into your computer. No big deal. You can get portable color scanners for four, five hundred bucks. Attach the file to the message ten, which you send to KSCARPETTA, send to yourself, in other words . . .’

‘Lucy,’ I cut her off, ‘for God’s sake, that’s enough.’

She was silent, her face without expression.

‘This is outrageous. I can’t believe what you’re saying.’ I got up from the chair in disgust.

‘If your fingerprints were on the murder weapon,’ she replied, ‘wouldn’t you want me to tell you?’

‘My fingerprints aren’t on anything.’

‘Aunt Kay, I’m just making the point that someone out there is stalking you, impersonating you, on the Internet. Of course you didn’t do anything. But what I’m trying to impress upon you is every time someone does a search by subject because they need help from an expert like you, they’re going to get deadoc’s name, too.’

‘How could he have known all this information about me?’ I went on. ‘It’s not in my profile. I don’t have anything in there about where I went to law school, medical school, that my heritage is Italian.’

‘Maybe from things written about you over the years.’

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