Back at the hotel, the bar was jammed and there were many lively people in the lobby. I heard much laughter on my floor as I quietly returned to my room, and I was contemplating turning on a movie when my pager began to vibrate on the dresser. I thought Dorothy was trying to get hold of me, or perhaps Wesley was. But the number displayed began with 704, which was the area code for western North Carolina. Marino, I thought, and I was both startled and thrilled. I sat on the bed and returned the call.
“Hello?” a woman’s soft voice asked. For a moment, I was too confused to speak.
“Hello?”
“I’m returning a page,” I said.
“Uh, this number was on my pager.”
“Oh. Is this Dr. Scarpetta?”
“Who is this?” I demanded, but I already knew. I had heard the voice before in Judge Begley’s chambers and in Denesa Steiner’s house.
“This is Denesa Steiner,” she said.
“I apologize for calling so late. But I’m just so glad I got you. ”
“How did you get my pager number?” I did not have it on my business card because I would be bothered all the time. In fact, I did not let many people have it.
“I got it from Pete. From Captain Marino. I’ve been having just such a hard time and I told him I thought it would help if I could talk to you. I’m so sorry to bother you.”
I was shocked that Marino would have done such a thing, and it was just one more example of how much he had changed. I wondered if he was with her now.
I wondered what could be so important that she would page me at this hour.
“Mrs. Steiner, what can I help you with?” I asked, for I could not be ungracious to this woman who had lost so much.
“Well, I heard about your car wreck.”
“Excuse me?”
“I’m just so grateful you’re all right.”
“I wasn’t the person in the accident,” I said, perplexed and unsettled.
“Someone else was driving my car.”
“I’m so glad. The Lord is looking after you. But I had a thought that I wanted to pass on” — “Mrs. Steiner,” I interrupted her, “how did you know about the accident?”
“There was a mention of it in the paper here and my neighbors were talking about it. People know you’ve been here helping Pete. You and that man from the FBI, Mr. Wesley.”
“What exactly did the article say?” Mrs. Steiner hesitated as if embarrassed.
“Well, I’m afraid it indicated that you were arrested for being under the influence, and that you’d run off the road.”
“This was in the Asheville paper?”
“And then it ended up in the Black Mountain News and someone heard it on the radio, too. But I’m just so relieved you’re okay. You know, accidents are terribly traumatic, and unless you’ve been in one yourself, you can’t imagine how it feels. I was in a very bad one when I lived in California, and I still have nightmares about it.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I told her, because I did not know what else to say. I was finding this entire conversation bizarre.
“It was at night and this man changed lanes and I guess I was in his blind spot. He hit me from behind and I lost control of the car. I ended up cutting across the other lanes and hitting another car. That person was killed instantly. A poor old woman in a Volkswagen. I’ve never gotten over it. Memories like that certainly can scar you.”
“Yes,” I said.
“They can.”
“And when I think about what happened to Socks. I suppose that’s really why I called.”
“Socks?”
“You remember. The kitten he killed.”
I was silent.
“You see, he did that to me and as you know I’ve gotten phone calls.”
“Are you still getting them, Mrs. Steiner?”
“I’ve gotten a few. Pete wants me to get Caller I.D.”
“Maybe you should.”
“What I’m trying to say is these things have been happening to me, and then to Detective Ferguson, and Socks, and then you have the accident. So I’m worried it’s all connected. I’ve certainly been telling Pete to look over his shoulder, too, especially after he tripped yesterday.