Bukowsky turned slightly to face the jury. He was one of the better medical examiners Ben had encountered-in the courtroom, anyway. He could talk to the jury without making it obvious he was doing so, could explain his findings without reliance on jargon or sounding as if he was talking down to them. “The absence of a strong odor, for one thing. Lividity, for another. That’s the purplish skin mottling that occurs after death, when the cessation of heart functioning and gravity cause the blood to settle to the lower parts of a body. Unfortunately, in this case, I found that to be somewhat deceptive, given the position of the body and the fact that so much of the blood, most in fact, had escaped from the body.”

“Were you able to make any findings regarding lividity?”

“Yes. With the corpse in question, there was very little. It was only slightly present in her elbows, on the backs of her legs and around her shoulders-she was upside down, remember. So the time of death was no later than ten thirty that morning. Probably closer to ten.”

“Were you able to make any preliminary observations regarding the cause of death?”

“The blood loss immediately suggested exsanguination. It was only after further examination that I was able to confirm that she had bled to death. We did find unusually constricted vasoconstrictors in the GI tract and the kidneys. Her surface vessels had shut down-that’s caused by the absence of blood volume. She had a greatly heightened level of epinephrine and norepinephrine in the tissue samples we took, which also indicates a sharply reduced blood volume.”

“Was there anything unusual about the blood loss that you observed?”

“Yes. I noticed that much of the blood appeared to have dried from evaporation, rather than clotting.”

“And what did that tell you?”

“It told me that, despite the size of the gash in her neck, she bled slowly. Almost completely, but slowly.”

Ben could see the pained winces in the jury box. He didn’t blame them. Everyone wanted to believe that she had died quickly. It would suggest that she hadn’t suffered much.

“Could you please describe this large neck wound to the jury?”

“It was about six inches long-virtually the length of her right shoulder. And very deep. I even found markings on her clavicle-her collarbone. Marrow had actually seeped from the bone. Granted, her medical records showed the woman had some degree of osteoporosis-rare in someone that young, but not unheard of. Even then-to leave marks on the bone indicates a deep and severe injury.”

“Would you please tell the jury what you did next?”

“After the scene had been thoroughly photographed and searched, I instructed three of my assistants to place the corpse in a body bag for removal.”

“Were there any difficulties?”

“A few. Some of the blood had pooled under her buttocks, causing the body to stick to the wall when we tried to remove her. We had to be careful not to create any new injuries. But we managed it. And once we did, moving her was easy. I doubt if she weighed one hundred and ten pounds when she was alive. After all that blood and other fluid loss, she weighed considerably less.”

Again Ben saw the jury avert their eyes, as if somehow not looking at the coroner would alter what had happened.

“Once I had Ms. Cooper’s remains in my laboratory, I began a full battery of tests. Under magnification, I carefully examined each fragment of tissue from the wound, as well as the wound itself.”

“Could you determine what caused the injury?”

“Yes. I found that the edges of the neck wound were consistent with the use of a wide, sharp-edged instrument. A knife, most likely. Possibly a chopping knife.”

A knife? Ben pondered, not for the first time. How could anyone get a knife into the U.S. Senate?

“Did you discover anything else of note during the course of your examination?”

“I found evidence of recent sexual activity. Unfortunately, we were not able to recover any sperm or other fluids to perform a DNA analysis.”

“Anything else?”

“Yes. When I took blood samples, I discovered that the woman had been given a significant dose of warfarin.”

“And what is that?”

“A chemical anticoagulant. It prevents blood clotting.”

“Is this something found naturally in the human body?”

“No. Not even in hemophiliacs. It had to be administered, and it explains a great deal. It significantly increased the likelihood that, absent medical intervention, she would bleed to death-especially given the size of the wound.”

“And-” Padolino actually stuttered as he asked the question. “-would Ms. Cooper have been conscious during this… slow death?”

He nodded sadly. “Almost to the end. Helpless, probably. But conscious.”

“And would she have experienced… great pain during this time?”

“Objection,” Ben said, grateful for a chance to interrupt the flow. “Lack of relevance.”

Judge Herndon nodded. “Sustained.” Whether she felt pain did not in any way relate to the question of who killed her or how or why, but Ben knew this was a Pyrrhic victory at best. Everyone already knew the answer to the question.

“We’ve been here for hours,” Daily said. “Feel at home yet?”

“Feel like I’ve stumbled into Cloud-Cuckoo-Land,” Loving grunted, recalling the book he’d been forced to read in his tenth and final year of schooling.

“Entrance is still guarded,” Daily noted, as he stared up at the two human Dobermans posted at the top of the stairway. “Same as last night.”

“Two on the outside of the door,” Loving observed. “At least two others on the inside.”

“How can you tell?”

“I can tell.”

Daily’s lips tightened. “Hell of a lot of protection just to keep the rabble out of your private suite.”

“I figure there’s somethin’ goin’ on up there other than dancin’.”

“You think-you think they’ve got Amber up there? You think they’ve got my little girl mixed up in some-some goddamn orgy?”

Loving gripped him tightly by the shoulders. “We don’t know. Let’s not let our imaginations go nuts here.”

“Can you get us in?”

“I can try.”

Loving felt eyeballs bearing down on him as soon as he took his first step upward, Daily just a few steps behind him. As soon as he reached the top, the two bulked-up bodyguards converged, blocking his access to the closed door.

“We’d like to go inside,” Loving announced. “Got a message for the boss.”

The two neckless brutes before him shook their heads in unison, left-right, left-right, like choreographed backup singers. “Gotta have an invitation,” the man on the left barked.

“I’ll just be a minute.” Loving started for the door.

They cut him off-forcibly. The sandy-haired hulk on the right put his hand on Loving’s broad chest and pushed him back, none too gently. “Gotta have an invitation.”

While they were talking, a young woman sashayed up the stairs and slid between them. She couldn’t have been more than eighteen, if that. Dressed in the requisite black, her top was a sheer webbing, more transparent than panty hose, and her skirt was so short Loving could spot her thong without even trying.

“Do we know you?” the left guard asked her.

“He’s expecting me.”

They gave her a quick once-over and let her pass, then re-formed the blockade before Loving could take advantage of the opening.

“You got a party goin’ down in there?” Loving asked. “That’s cool. But I’m not plannin’ to party. I just-” He considered a moment. “I’m here to see Lilith.”

The flicker of recognition on both sets of eyes was unmistakable. They knew her.

“So she’s here?”

The bodyguard didn’t answer. “You still gotta have an invitation, pal.”

“That chick you just let in didn’t have an invitation.”

“Man, she was wearing her invitation. She’s one of the Chosen, or will be. You’re not. So run along before we have to-”