Postmortem. Patricia Cornwell

I wasn’t aware of how long I’d talked but the inside of the room was darker when I finally stopped.

“I suppose it’s getting beneath my skin in a way other cases haven’t,” I admitted.

“It’s like dreams.”

He leaned back in the chair and lightly tapped his fingertips together. “People often say they don’t dream, when it’s more accurate to say that they don’t remember their dreams. It gets under our skin, Kay. All of it does. We just manage to cage in most of the emotions so they don’t devour us.”

“Obviously, I’m not managing that too well these days, Spiro.”

“Why?” I suspected he knew very well but he wanted me to say it. “Maybe because Lori Petersen was a physician. I relate to her. Maybe I’m projecting. I was her age once.”

“In a sense, you were her once.”

“In a sense.”

“And what happened to her – it could have been you?”

“I don’t know if I’ve pushed it that far.”

“I think you have.”

He smiled a little. “I think you’ve been pushing a lot of things pretty far. What else?”

Amburgey. What did Fortosis actually say to him? “There are a lot of peripheral pressures.”

“Such as?”

“Politics.” I brought it up.

“Oh, yes.”

He was still tapping his fingertips together. “There’s always that.”

“The leaks to the press. Amburgey’s concerned they might be coming from my office.”

I hesitated, looking for any sign that he was already privy to this.

His impassive face told me nothing.

“According to him, it’s your theory the news stories are making the killer’s homicidal urge peak more quickly, and therefore the leaks could be indirectly responsible for Lori’s death. And now Henna Yarborough’s death, too. I’ll be hearing that next, I’m sure.”

“Is it possible the leaks are coming from your office?”

“Someone – an outsider – broke into our computer data base. That makes it possible. Better put, it places me in a somewhat indefensible position.”

“Unless you find out who’s responsible,” he matter-of-factly stated.

“I don’t see a way in the world to do that.”

I pressed him, “You talked to Amburgey.”

He met my eyes. “I did. But I think he’s overemphasized what I said, Kay. I would never go so far as to claim information allegedly leaked from your office is responsible for the last two homicides. The two women would be alive, in other words, were it not for the news accounts. I can’t say that. I didn’t say that.”

I was sure my relief was visible.

“However, if Amburgey or anyone else intends to make a big deal of the so-called leaks that may have come from your office computer, I’m afraid there isn’t much I can do about it. In truth, I feel strongly there’s a significant link between publicity and the killer’s activity. If sensitive information is resulting in more inflammatory stories and bigger headlines, then yes, Amburgey or anybody else for that matter-may take what I objectively say and use it against your office.”

He looked at me for a long moment. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“You’re saying you can’t defuse the bomb,” I replied, my spirits falling.

Leaning forward, he flatly told me, “I’m saying I can’t defuse a bomb I can’t even see. What bomb? Are you suggesting someone’s setting you up?”

“I don’t know,” I replied carefully. “All I can tell you is the city stands to have a lot of egg on its face because of the 911 call Lori Petersen made to the police right before she was murdered. You read about that?”

He nodded, his eyes interested.

“Amburgey called me in to discuss the matter long before this morning’s story. Tanner was there. So was Boltz. They said there might be a scandal, a lawsuit. At this point, Amburgey mandated that all further information to the press would have to be routed through him. No comments whatsoever are to come from me. He said you think the leaks to the press, the subsequent stories are escalating the killer’s activities. I was questioned at length about the leaks, about the potentiality of their source being my office. I had no choice but to admit someone’s gotten into our data base.”

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