Chapter Ten

The nurse carried the computer equipment into my room and wordlessly handed it to me before walking right back out. For a moment, I stared at the laptop as if it were something that might hurt me. I was sitting up in bed, where I continued to perspire profusely while I was cold at the same time.

I didn't know if the way I felt was due to a microbe or if I were having some sort of emotional attack because of what Janet had just told me. Lucy had wanted to be an FBI agent since she was a child, and she was already one of the best ones they'd ever had. This was so unfair. She had done nothing but make the mistake of being drawn in by someone evil when she was only nineteen. I was desperate to get out of this room and find her. I wanted to go home. I was about to ring for the nurse when one walked in. She was new.

'Do you suppose I could have a fresh set of scrubs?' I asked her.

'I can get you a gown.'

'Scrubs, please.'

'Well, it's a little out of the ordinary.' She frowned.

'I know.'

I plugged the computer into the telephone jack, and pushed a button to turn it on.

'If they don't get beyond this budget impasse soon, there won't be anybody to autoclave scrubs or anything else.' The nurse kept talking in her blue suit, arranging covers over my legs. 'On the news this morning, the president said Meals on Wheels

is going broke, EPA isn't cleaning up toxic waste dumps, federal courts may close and forget getting a tour of the White House. You ready for lunch?'

'Thank you,' I said as she continued her litany of bad news.

'Not to mention Medicaid, air pollution and tracking the winter flu epidemic or screening water supplies for the Cryptosporidium parasite. You're just lucky you're here now. Next week we might not be open.'

I didn't even want to think about budget feuds, since I devoted most of my time to them, haggling with department heads and firing at legislators during General Assembly. I worried that when the federal crisis slammed down to the state level, my new building would never be finished, my meager current funding further ruthlessly slashed. There were no lobbyists for the dead. My patients had no party and did not vote.

'You got two choices,' she was saying.

'I'm sorry.' I tuned her in again.

'Chicken or ham.'

'Chicken.' I wasn't the least bit hungry. 'And hot tea.'

She unplugged her air line and left me to the quiet. I set the laptop on the tray and logged onto America Online. I went straight to my mailbox. There was plenty, but nothing from deadoc that Squad 19 hadn't already opened. I followed menus to the chat rooms, pulled up a list of the member rooms and checked to see how many people were in the one called M.E.

No one was there, so I went in alone and leaned back against my pillows, staring at the blank screen with its row of icons across the top. Literally, there was no one to chat with, and I thought of how ridiculous this must seem to deadoc, were he

somehow watching. Wasn't it obvious if I were alone in a room? Wouldn't it seem that I was waiting? I had no sooner entertained this thought when a sentence was written across my screen, and I began to answer.

QUINCY: Hi. What are we talking about today?

SCARPETTA: The budget impasse. How is it affecting you? QUINCY: I work out of the D.C. office. A nightmare. SCARPETTA: Are you a medical examiner?

QUINCY: Right. We've met at meetings. We know some of the same people. Not much of a crowd today, but it could always get better if one is patient.

That's when I knew Quincy was one of the undercover agents from Squad 19. We continued our session until lunch arrived, then resumed it afterwards for the better part of an hour. Quincy and I chatted about our problems, asking questions about solutions, anything we could think of that might seem like normal conversation

between medical examiners or people they might confer with. But deadoc did not bite. I took a nap and woke up a little past four. For a moment, I lay very still, forgetting where I was, then it came back to me with depressing alacrity. I sat up, cramped beneath my tray, the computer still open on top of it. I logged onto AOL again and went back into the chat room. This time I was joined by someone who called himself MEDEX, and we talked about the type of computer database I used in Virginia for capturing case information and doing statistical retrievals.

At exactly five minutes past five, a bell sounded off-key inside my computer, and the Instant Message window suddenly dominated my screen. I stared in disbelief as a communication from deadoc appeared, words that I knew no one else in the chat room could see.

DEADOC: you think you re so smart

SCARPETTA: Who are you?

DEADOC: you know who I am I am what you do

SCARPETTA: What do I do? DEADOC: death doctor death you are me SCARPETTA: I am not you.

DEADOC: you think you re so smart

He abruptly got quiet, and when I clicked on the Available button, it showed that he had logged off. My heart was racing as I sent another message to MEDEX, saying I had been tied up with a visitor. I got no response, finding myself alone in the chat room again.

'Damn,' I exclaimed, under my breath.

I tried again as late as ten P.M., but no one appeared except QUINCY again, to tell me we should try another meeting in the morning. All of the other docs, he said, had gone home. The same nurse checked on me, and she was sweet. I felt sorry for her long hours, and her inconvenience of having to wear a blue suit every time she came into my room.

'Where is the new shift?' I asked, as she took my temperature.

'I'm it. We're all just doing the best we can.'

I nodded as she alluded to the furlough yet one more time this day.

'There's hardly a lab worker here,' she went on. 'You could wake up tomorrow, the only person in the building.'

'Now I'm sure to have nightmares,' I said as she wrapped the BP cuff around my arm.

'Well, you're feeling okay, and that's the important thing. Ever since I started coming down here, I started imagining I was getting one thing or another. The slightest ache or pain or sniffle, and it's, oh my God. So what kind of doctor are you?'

I told her.

'I was going to be a pediatrician. Then I got married.'

'We'd be in a lot of trouble were it not for good nurses like you,' I smiled and said.

'Most doctors never bother to notice that. They have these attitudes.'

'Some of them certainly do,' I agreed.

I tried to go to sleep, and was restless throughout the night. Street lights from the parking lot beyond my window seeped through the blinds, and no matter which way I turned, I could not relax. It was hard to breathe and my heart would not slow down. At five A.M., I finally sat up and turned on my light. Within minutes, the nurse was back inside my room.

'You all right?' She looked exhausted.

'Can't sleep.'

'Want something?'

I turned on the computer as I shook my head. I logged onto AOL and went back to the chat room, which was empty. Clicking on the Available button, I checked to see if deadoc was on line, and if so, where he might be. There was no sign of him, and I began scrolling through the various chat rooms available to subscribers and their families.

There was truly something for everyone, places for flirts, singles, gays, lesbians, Native Americans, African Americans, and for evil. People who preferred bondage, sadomasochism, group sex, bestiality, incest, were welcome to find each other and exchange pornographic art. The FBI could do nothing about it. All of it was legal. Dejected, I sat up, propped against my pillows and, without intending to, dozed off. When I opened my eyes again an hour later, I was in a chat room called ARTLOVE. A message was quietly waiting for me on my screen. Deadoc had found me.