I’d just mopped the kitchen floor and his feet went right out from under him. It’s like some kind of curse straight out of the Old Testament. ”
“Is Marino all right?”
“He’s a little bruised. But it could have been bad since he usually has that big gun stuck in the back of his pants. He’s such a fine man.
I don’t know what I’d do without him these days. ”
“Where is he?”
“I imagine he’s asleep,” she said, and I was beginning to see how skillful she was at evading questions.
“I’ll be glad to tell him to call you if you’ll tell me where he can reach you.”
“He has my pager number,” I said, and I sensed in her pause that she knew I did not trust her.
“Well, that’s right. Of course he does.”
I did not sleep well after that conversation, and finally called Marino’s pager. My phone rang minutes later and immediately stopped before I could pick it up. I dialed the front desk.
“Did you just try to put a call through for me?”
“Yes, ma’am. I guess the person hung up.”
“Do you know who it was?”
“No, ma’am. I’m sorry, but I wouldn’t have any idea.”
“Was it a man or a woman?”
“It was a woman who asked for you.”
“Thank you.”
Fright jolted me wide awake as I realized what had happened. I thought of Marino asleep in her bed with the pager on a table, and the hand I saw reach for it in the dark was hers. She had read the number displayed and gone into another room to call it. When she had discovered it was for the Hyatt in Knoxville, she asked for me to see if I were a guest. Then she hung up as the desk rang my room, because she did not want to talk to me. She simply wanted to know where I was, and now she did. Damn! Knoxville was a two-hour drive from Black Mountain. Well, she wouldn’t come here, I reasoned. But I could not shake how unsettled I felt, and I was afraid to follow my thoughts into the dark places they were trying to creep.
I started making calls as soon as the sun rose. The first was to Investigator McKee with the Virginia State Police, and I could tell by his voice that I had awakened him from a deep sleep.
“It’s Dr. Scarpetta. I’m sorry to call so early,” I said.
“Oh. Hold on a minute.” He cleared his throat.
“Good morning. Listen, it’s a good thing you called. I’ve got some information for you.”
“That’s wonderful,” I said, enormously relieved.
“I was hoping you would.”
“Okay. The taillight is made out of methyl acrylate like most of them are these days, but we were able to fracture-match pieces back to the single unit you removed from your Mercedes. Plus there was a logo on one of these pieces that identified it as being from a Mercedes.”
“Good,” I said.
“That’s what we suspected. What about the headlight glass?”
“It’s a little trickier, but we got lucky. They analyzed the headlight glass you recovered, and based on its refraction index, density, design, logo, and so on, we know it came from an Infiniti J30. And that helped us narrow down possibilities for the origin of the paint. When we started looking at Infiniti J30s, there’s a model painted a pale green called Bamboo Mist. To make a long story short. Dr. Scarpetta, you got hit by a ’93 Infiniti J30 painted Bamboo Mist green. ”
I was shocked and confused.
“My God,” I muttered as chills swept up my body.
“Is that familiar?” He sounded surprised.
“This can’t be right.” I had blamed Carrie Grethen and had threatened her. I had been so sure.
“You know someone who has a car like that?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“The mother of the eleven-year-old girl who was murdered in western North Carolina,” I answered.
“I’m involved in that case and have had several contacts with the woman.” McKee did not respond. I knew what I was saying sounded crazy.
“She also was not in Black Mountain when the accident occurred,” I went on.