10
THE NURSE CARRIED the computer equipment into my room and wordlessly handed it to me before walking right back out. For a moment, I stared at the laptop as if it were something that might hurt me. I was sitting up in bed, where I continued to perspire profusely while I was cold at the same time.
I didn’t know if the way I felt was due to a microbe or if I were having some sort of emotional attack because of what Janet had just told me. Lucy had wanted to be an FBI agent since she was a child, and she was already one of the best ones they’d ever had. This was so unfair. She had done nothing but make the mistake of being drawn in by someone evil when she was only nineteen. I was desperate to get out of this room and find her. I wanted to go home. I was about to ring for the nurse when one walked in. She was new.
‘Do you suppose I could have a fresh set of scrubs?’ I asked her.
‘I can get you a gown.’
‘Scrubs, please.’
‘Well, it’s a little out of the ordinary.’ She frowned.
‘I know.’
I plugged the computer into the telephone jack, and pushed a button to turn it on.
‘If they don’t get beyond this budget impasse soon, there won’t be anybody to autoclave scrubs or anything else.’ The nurse kept talking in her blue suit, arranging covers over my legs. ‘On the news this morning, the president said Meals on Wheels is going broke, EPA isn’t cleaning up toxic waste dumps, federal courts may close and forget getting a tour of the White House. You ready for lunch?’
‘Thank you,’ I said as she continued her litany of bad news.
‘Not to mention Medicaid, air pollution and tracking the winter flu epidemic or screening water supplies for the Cryptosporidium parasite. You’re just lucky you’re here now. Next week we might not be open.’
I didn’t even want to think about budget feuds, since I devoted most of my time to them, haggling with department heads and firing at legislators during General Assembly. I worried that when the federal crisis slammed down to the state level, my new building would never be finished, my meager current funding further ruthlessly slashed. There were no lobbyists for the dead. My patients had no party and did not vote.
‘You got two choices,’ she was saying.
‘I’m sorry.’ I tuned her in again.
‘Chicken or ham.’
‘Chicken.’ I wasn’t the least bit hungry. ‘And hot tea.’
She unplugged her air line and left me to the quiet. I set the laptop on the tray and logged onto America Online. I went straight to my mailbox. There was plenty, but nothing from deadoc that Squad 19 hadn’t already opened. I followed menus to the chat rooms, pulled up a list of the member rooms and checked to see how many people were in the one called M.E.
No one was there, so I went in alone and leaned back against my pillows, staring at the blank screen with its row of icons across the top. Literally, there was no one to chat with, and I thought of how ridiculous this must seem to deadoc, were he somehow watching. Wasn’t it obvious if I were alone in a room? Wouldn’t it seem that I was waiting? I had no sooner entertained this thought when a sentence was written across my screen, and I began to answer.
QUINCY:
Hi. What are we talking about today?
SCARPETTA:
The budget impasse. How is it affecting you?
QUINCY:
I work out of the D.C. office. A nightmare.
SCARPETTA:
Are you a medical examiner?
QUINCY:
Right. We’ve met at meetings. We know some of the same people. Not much of a crowd today, but it could always get better if one is patient.
That’s when I knew Quincy was one of the undercover agents from Squad 19. We continued our session until lunch arrived, then resumed it afterwards for the better part of an hour. Quincy and I chatted about our problems, asking questions about solutions, anything we could think of that might seem like normal conversation between medical examiners or people they might confer with. But deadoc did not bite.