‘I heard about the two new cases,’ he said, and his voice had gotten quiet and gentle. ‘I can be there in two hours. Do you want to see me?’
‘Right now I don’t want to see anyone.’
‘Doesn’t matter. I’m on my way.’
‘Benton,’ I said, ‘don’t.’
But he had his mind made up, and when he pulled into my driveway in his throaty BMW, it was almost midnight. I met him at the door, and we did not touch.
‘Let’s sit in front of the fire,’ he said.
We did, and he was kind enough to make me another cup of decaffeinated tea. I sat on the couch, he was in a side chair, and flames fed by gas enveloped an artificial log. I had turned the lights low.
‘I don’t doubt your theory,’ he said as he lingered over cognac.
‘Maybe tomorrow, we’ll know more.’ I was perspiring as I shivered, staring into the fire.
‘Right now I don’t give a shit about any of that.’ He looked fiercely at me.
‘You have to give a shit about that.’ I wiped my brow with a sleeve.
‘No.’
I was silent as he stared at me.
‘What I care about is you,’ he said.
Still, I did not respond.
‘Kay.’ He gripped my arm.
‘Don’t touch me, Benton.’ I shut my eyes. ‘Don’t. I don’t want you sick, too.’
‘See, and that’s convenient for you. To be sick. And I can’t touch you. And you the noble doctor caring more about my well-being than your own.’
I was quiet, determined not to cry.
‘Convenient. You want to be sick right now so nobody can get close. Marino won’t even give you a ride home. And I can’t put my hands on you. And Lucy won’t see you and a Janet has to talk to you behind glass.’
‘What is your point?’ I looked at him.
‘Functional illness.’
‘Oh. I guess you studied that in school. Maybe during your master’s in psychology or something.’
‘Don’t make fun of me.’
‘I never have.’
I could feel his hurt as I turned my face to the fire, my eyes closed tight.
‘Kay. Don’t you die on me.’
I did not speak.
‘Don’t you dare.’ His voice shook. ‘Don’t you dare!’
‘You won’t get off the hook that easy,’ I said, getting out of my chair. ‘Let’s go to bed.’
He slept in the room where Lucy usually stayed, and I was up most of the night coughing and trying to get comfortable, which simply was not possible. The next morning at half past six he was up, and coffee was brewing when I walked into the kitchen. Light filtered through trees beyond windows, and I could tell by the tight curl of rhododendron leaves that it was bitterly cold.
‘I’m cooking,’ Wesley announced. ‘What will it be?’
‘I don’t think I can.’ I was weak, and when I coughed, it felt as if my lungs were ripping.
‘Obviously, you are worse.’ Concern flickered in his eyes. ‘You should go to a doctor.’
‘I am a doctor, and it’s too soon to go to one.’
I took aspirin, decongestants and a thousand milligrams of vitamin C. I ate a bagel and was beginning to feel almost human when Rose called and ruined me.
‘Dr Scarpetta? The mother from Tangier died early this morning.’
‘Oh God no.’ I was sitting at the kitchen table and running my fingers through my hair. ‘What about the daughter?’
‘Condition’s serious. Or at least it was several hours ago.’
‘And the body?’
Wesley was behind me, rubbing my sore shoulders and neck.
‘No one’s moved it yet. No one’s sure what to do, and the Baltimore Medical Examiner’s Office has been trying to reach you. So has CDC.’
‘Who at CDC?’ I asked.
‘A Dr Martin.’
‘I need to call him first, Rose. Meanwhile, you get hold of Baltimore and tell them that under no circumstances are they to have that body sent into their morgue until they’ve heard from me. What is Dr Martin’s number?’
She gave it to me and I dialed it immediately. He answered on the first ring and sounded keyed up.
‘We did PCR on the samples you brought in. Three primers and two of them match with smallpox, but one of them didn’t.’