21

AFTER BREAKFAST, I wandered about in my bedroom and study, deliberating over what to bring on our trip. My aluminum briefcase would go, because it was habit to take it almost everywhere these days. I also packed an extra pair of slacks and a shirt, and toiletries for overnight, and my Colt.38 went into my pocketbook. Although I was accustomed to carrying a gun, I had never even thought about taking one to New York, where doing so could land one in jail with no questions asked. When Lucy and I were in the car, I told her what I had done.

'It's called situational ethics,' she said. 'I'd rather be arrested than dead.'

'That's the way I look at it,' said I, who once had been a law-abiding citizen.

HeloAir was a helicopter charter service on the western edge of the Richmond airport, where some of the area's Fortune 500 companies had their own terminals for corporate King Airs and Lear Jets and Sikorskys. The Bell JetRanger was in the hangar, and while Lucy went on to take care of that, I found a pilot inside who was kind enough to let me use the phone in his office. I dug around in my wallet for my AT T calling card and dialed the number for Kirby Forensic Psychiatric Center's administrative offices.

The director was a woman psychiatrist named Lydia Ensor who was very leery when I got her on the line. I tried to explain to her in more detail who I was, but she interrupted.

'I know exactly who you are,' she said with a Midwestern tongue. 'I'm completely aware of the current situation and will be as cooperative as I can. I'm not clear, however, on what your interest is, Dr Scarpetta. You're the chief medical examiner of Virginia? Correct?'

'Correct. And a consulting forensic pathologist for ATF and the FBL'

'And of course, they've contacted me, too.' She sounded genuinely perplexed. 'So are you looking for information that might pertain to one of your cases? To someone dead?'

'Dr Ensor, I'm trying to link a number of cases right now,' I replied. 'I have reason to suspect that Carrie Grethen may be either indirectly or directly involved in all of them and may have been involved even while she was at Kirby.'

'Impossible.'

'Clearly, you don't know this woman,' I said firmly. 'I, on the other hand, have worked violent deaths caused by her for half of my career, beginning when she and Temple Gault were on a spree in Virginia and finally in New York, where Gault was killed. And now this. Possibly five more murders, maybe more.'

'I know Miss Grethen's history all too well,' Dr Ensor said, and she wasn't hostile, but defensiveness had crept into her tone. 'I can assure you that Kirby handled her as we do all maximum security patients…'

'There's almost nothing useful in her psychiatric evaluations,' I cut her off.

'How could you possibly know about her medical records…?'

'Because I am part of the ATF national response team that is investigating these fire-related homicides,' I measured my words. 'And I work with the FBI, as I've already said. All of the cases we're talking about are my jurisdiction because I'm a consultant for law enforcement at a federal level. But my duty is not to arrest anyone or smear an institution such as yours. My job is to bring justice to the dead and give as much peace as possible to those they left behind. To do that, I must answer questions. And most important, I am driven to do anything I can to prevent one more person from dying. Carrie will kill again. She may already have.'

The director was silent for a moment. I looked out the window and could see the dark blue helicopter on its pad being towed out onto the tarmac.

'Dr Scarpetta, what would you like us to do?' Dr Ensor finally spoke, her voice tense and upset.

'Did Carrie have a social worker? Someone in legal aid? Anyone she really talked to?' I asked.

'Obviously, she spent a fair amount of time with a forensic psychologist, but he isn't on our staff. Mainly he's there to evaluate and make recommendations to the court.'

'Then she probably manipulated him,' I said as I watched Lucy climb up on the helicopter's skids and begin her preflight inspection. 'Who else? Anyone she may have gotten close to?'

'Her lawyer, then. Yes, legal aid. If you would like to speak to her, that can be arranged.'

'I'm leaving the airport now,' I said. 'We should be landing in approximately three hours. Do you have a helipad?'

'I don't remember anyone ever landing here. There are several parks nearby. I'll be happy to pick you up.'

'I don't think that will be necessary. My guess is we'll land close by.'

'I'll watch for you, then, and take you to legal aid, or wherever it is you need to go.'

'I would like to see Carrie Grethen's ward and where she spent her time.'

'Whatever you need.'

'You are very kind,' I said.

Lucy was opening access panels to check fluid levels, wiring, and anything else that might be amiss before we took to the air. She was agile and sure of what she was doing, and when she climbed on top of the fuselage to inspect the main rotor, I wondered how many helicopter accidents happened on the ground. It wasn't until I had climbed up into the copilot's seat that I noticed the AR-15 assault rifle in a rack behind her head, and at the same time, I realized the controls on my side had not been taken out. Passengers were not entitled to have access to the collective and cyclic, and the antitorque pedals were supposed to be cranked back far enough that the uninitiated did not accidentally push them with their feet.

'What's this?' I said to Lucy as I buckled my four-point harness.

'We've got a long flight.'

She cracked the throttle several times to make certain there was no binding and it was closed.

'I realize that,' I said.

'Cross country's a good time to try your hand at it.'

She lifted the collective and made big X's with the cyclic.

'Whose hand at what?' I said as my alarm grew.

'Your hand at flying when all you got to do is hold your altitude and speed and keep her level.'

'No way.'

She pressed the starter and the engine began to whirr.

'Yes, way.'

The blades began to turn as the windy roar got louder.

'If you're going to fly with me,' my niece, the pilot and certificated flight instructor, said above the noise, 'then I'd like to know you could help out if there was a problem, okay?'

I said nothing more as she rolled the throttle and raised the rpms. She flipped switches and tested caution lights, then turned on the radio and we put our headsets on. Lucy lifted us off the platform as if gravity had quit. She turned us into the wind and moved forward with gathering speed until the helicopter seemed to soar on its own. We climbed above trees, the sun high in the east. When we were clear of the tower and the city, Lucy began lesson one.

I already knew what most of the controls were and what they were for, but I had an extremely limited understanding of how they worked together. I did not know, for example, that when you raise the collective and increase power, the helicopter will yaw to the right, meaning you have to depress your left antitorque pedal to counter the torque of the main rotor and keep the aircraft in trim, and as your altitude climbs, due to the pulling up on the collective, your speed decreases, meaning you have to push the cyclic forward. And so on. It was like playing the drums, as best I knew, only in this instance I had to watch for dim-witted birds, towers, antennae, and other aircraft.

Lucy was very patient, and the time moved fast as we forged ahead at one hundred and ten knots. By the time we were north of Washington, I actually could keep the helicopter relatively steady while adjusting the directional gyro at the same time to keep it consistent with the compass. Our heading was 050 degrees, and although I could juggle not one more thing, such as the Global Positioning System, or GPS, Lucy said I was doing a fine job keeping us on course.