She nods.

"Would you like to sit for a while? Can we get you anything?"

"No, no. I'll just go on."

"I'm very sorry about your son, Mrs. White. I can't tell you how sorry. If you have any questions, just call. If I'm not available, someone here will help you. It's going to be hard, and you'll go through a lot of things. So please call if we can help."

She stops in the hallway and grabs my hand. She looks intensely into my eyes. "You're sure someone didn't do this to him? How do we know for a fact he did it to himself?"

"Right now, there's nothing to make us think someone else did this," I assure her. "But we'll investigate every possibility. We're not finished yet. Some of these tests take weeks."

"You won't keep him here for weeks!"

"No, he'll be ready to go in a few hours. The funeral home can come for him."

We are in the front office and I escort her through a glass door, back into the lobby. She hesitates, as if not quite sure what to do next. "Thank you," she says. "You've been very kind."

It isn't often I am thanked. My thoughts are so heavy as I return to my office that I almost run into Marino before I notice him. He is waiting for me just inside my doorway and has paperwork in hand, his face radiating excitement. "You aren't going to fucking believe this," he says.

"I'm to the point of believing just about anything," I grimly reply as I almost fall into the big leather chair behind my piled-up desk. I sigh. I expect Marino has come to tell me that Jaime Berger is the special prosecutor. "If it's about Berger, I already know," I say. "An AP reporter told me she's been appointed to get me indicted. I haven't decided if it's a good thing or a bad thing. Hell, I can't decide if I even care."

Marino has a puzzled expression on his face. "No kidding? She is? How's she gonna do that? She pass the bar in Virginia?"

"Doesn't have to," I reply. "She can appear pro hoc vice" The phrase means for this one particular occasion, and I go on to explain that at a special jury's request, the court can grant an out-of-state lawyer special permission to participate in a case even if that person is not licensed to practice law in Virginia.

"So what about Righter?" Marino asks. "What will he be doing during all this?"

"Someone from the commonwealth's attorney's office will have to work with her. My guess is he'll be second chair and leave the questioning to her."

"We've had a weird break in The Fort James Motel case." He gives me his news. "Vander's been working like hell on the prints he got inside the room, and you aren't gonna fucking believe it," he says again. "Guess whose popped up? Diane Bray's. I'm not shitting you. A perfect latent by the light switch when you first come in the room_her latent, Bray's damn fingerprint. Of course, we got the dead guy's prints, but no hit on any others except Bev Kiffin, as you'd expect. Her prints are on the Gideon Bible, for example, but not his, not Matos's. And that's kind of interesting, too. It's looking like Kiffin might have been the one who opened the Bible to whatever it was."

"Ecclesiastes," I remind him.

"Yeah. A latent on the open pages, Kiffin's fingerprint. And remember, she said she didn't open the Bible, so I asked her about it over the phone and she still says she didn't open it. So I'm getting mighty suspicious about what her involvement is, especially now that we know Bray was in that very room before the guy was killed in there. What was Bray doing at that motel? You want to tell me that?"

"Maybe her drug-dealing brought her there," I reply. "I can't think of another reason. Certainly, the motel isn't the sort of place you would expect her to stay."

"Bingo." Marino fires his finger at me like a gun. "And Kiffin's husband supposedly works for the same trucking company that Barbosa did, right? Although we still ain't found no record of someone named Kiffin who drives a truck or whatever_can't even track him down at all, which I have to admit is strange. And we know Overland's into smuggling drugs and guns, right? Maybe it's making more sense if it turns out that Chandonne's the one who left those hairs at the campsite. Maybe we're talking his family cartel, huh? Maybe that's what fucking brought him to Richmond to begin with_ the family business. And while he was in the area, he just couldn't control his habit of whacking women."

"Might also help explain what Matos was doing there," I add.

"No kidding. Maybe he and John the Baptist were pals. Or maybe someone in the family sent Matos to Virginia to snuff Johnny-boy, take him out of commission so he don't sing to anyone about the family business."

There are endless possibilities. "What none of this explains is why Matos was murdered and who did it. Or why Barbosa was killed," I point out.

"No, but I feel like we're getting warmer," Marino replies. "And I got an itch and I think if we scratch it, we might find Talley. Maybe he's the missing link in all this."

"Well, he apparently knew Bray in Washington," I say. "And he's been living in the same city where the Chandonne family is headquartered."

"And he always manages to be on the scene when John the Baptist is, too," Marino adds. "And I think I saw the asshole the other day. Was pulled up at a red light and there's this big black Honda motorcycle in the lane next to me. Didn't recognize him at first because he had a helmet on with this tinted shield covering his face, but he was staring at my truck. I'm pretty sure it was Talley and he looked away real quick. Asshole."

Rose buzzes me to say that the governor is calling for our ten o'clock telephone appointment. I motion for Marino to shut my office door while I wait on the line for Mitchell. Reality again intrudes. I am returned to my predicament and its wide broadcast. I have a feeling I know exactly what the governor has on his mind. "Kay?" Mike Mitchell is somber. "I was very sorry to see the paper this morning."

"I'm not happy about it, either," I let him know.

"I'm supportive of you and will continue to be," he says, maybe to ease me into the rest of what he plans to relay, which can't be good. I don't respond. I also suspect he knows about Berger and probably had something to do with her being appointed the special prosecutor. I don't bring it up. There is no point. "I think in light of your current circumstances," he goes on, "that it's best you relinquish your duties until this matter is resolved. And Kay, it's not because I believe a word of it." This is also not the same thing as saying that he thinks I am innocent. "But until things calm down, I believe your continuing to run the medical examiner system for the commonwealth would be unwise."

"Are you firing me, Mike?" I ask him point-blank.

"No, no," he is quick to say, and his tone is gentler. "Let's just get through the special grand jury hearing, and we'll go from there. I haven't given up on you or your idea of being a private contractor, either. Let's just get through this," he says again.

"Of course, I will do whatever you wish," I tell him with all due respect. "But I have to say that I don't think it's in the best interest of the commonwealth for me to withdraw from ongoing cases that still need my attention."

"Kay, it's not possible." He is the politician. "We're only talking two weeks, assuming your hearing turns out all right."

"Good God," I reply. "It has to."

"And I'm sure it will."

I get off the phone and look at Marino. "Well, that's that."

I start throwing things in my briefcase. "I hope they don't change the locks the minute I'm out the door."

"Really, what could he do? When you think about it, Doc, what could he do?" Marino has resigned himself to this inevitability.

"I would just like to know who the hell leaked it to the media." I shut my briefcase and snap in the locks. "Have you been subpoenaed, Marino?" I go ahead and ask. "Nothing's confidential. May as well tell me."