Page 71 of Unnatural Death

“… The nose is pointed right at us, and then suddenly we’re attacked with some type of weapon that turned off everything, including our cameras …”

“It’s not right dragging me here at the last minute because of some bogus COVID test …” Norm has started his griping.

“… Mind you, not once but twice …,” Dana Diletti is saying on TV. “And the plot thickens. Now get this. Sources close to the investigation say the top secret experimental helicopter is called the Doomsday Bird …”

“… At the last minute she decides not to show up on a night when I wasn’t scheduled to work?” I overhear Norm saying loudly and in a threatening tone. “How’s that my problem? You got any idea all the business I’m missing? Nobody around here can drive worth a damn in the snow …”

“… And the test pilot? Well, you’ll never guess. It’s Secret Service Agent Lucy Farinelli …” Dana Diletti continues on the news playing in the background.

“… Guess what, Norm? You’re here now just like you’re paid to be,” Marino is saying. “Make the best of it …”

“…Who happens to be chief medical examiner Kay Scarpetta’s niece! I mean, what is going on here, folks …?”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” I mutter under my breath, having heard quite enough.

CHAPTER 27

WALKING AWAY FROM THE breakroom, I check my phone. Benton is leaving his headquarters in a few minutes, he says in a text as my heart constricts and feels heavy. I’m reminded of what I wish wasn’t true. I don’t look forward to facing him. It’s going to hurt. I don’t know what I’ll say, and I don’t want to fight.

Any word from Lucy?I write back while thinking about the two of them lying.

She’s safely down, the chopper in the hangar. When are you headed home?

Shouldn’t be here much longer. What would you like for dinner?I envision Carrie’s scarred face staring into the camera.

Dorothy insists on dropping it off. She didn’t say what she’s making.

I reply with a question mark. What has possessed my sister to be helpful? What’s on her mind? I ask Benton as I feel a touch of anger. He and I have a lot to talk about. We need to do it alone. Dorothy should have asked first. But she never does.

Probably everything in the news. She wants to be included as usual, Benton writes, and of course that’s the answer. My sister hates being left out. Doesn’t matter what I want.

Walking into my office, I hear my secretary, Shannon Park, through the connecting open doorway. She’s on the phone talking with an edge, and that’s not like her. I can tell she’s aggravated, and as good-natured as she is, it doesn’t happen often. It seems an oppressive mood has rolled in like the sudden weather front.

“… I wouldn’t know, and as I’ve said, she’s not available. But I’ll pass on the message … I suppose it will have to be good enough, as busy as she is …,” Shannon says as I look around to see what might have changed since morning.

It’s a reflex for me to make sure nothing is out of place, stolen or otherwise violated. While Maggie worked for me, I never knew what I might find. I didn’t feel safe and hadn’t fully moved into my office until several months ago. A part of me didn’t want to cut the tether between my new life and old. I wasn’t convinced I would stay in Virginia.

Until recently, most of my professional possessions were taped up in boxes in the basement at home. Then after Maggie walked off the job and was fired, Shannon said she’d like to leave the Virginia court system for good. She wanted to come work for me, and together we unpacked belongings that have moved with me throughout my career.

“… You can complain all you like, and I’m still not at liberty to share that or anything else you’re rooting around for like a truffle pig … Not an insult at all …,” Shannon declares over the phone.

Together we hung antique anatomical drawings I’ve found in antique shops, junk stores and at yard sales. We crowded the bookcases with tomes I don’t use much anymore.Gray’s Anatomy, Cecil Textbook of Medicine, Robbins Pathology, Code of Virginia, Black’s Law Dictionary, to name a few. They’re early editions and not what I rely on when I want current information.

“… Hello? Hello? Well, if that doesn’t take the prize … !” These days, I’m going to look up journal articles on the internet or call an expert I know. But I can’t bring myself to get rid of textbooks filled with folded-down page corners, coffee stains and my scribbled notes. I’m touched by memories of when I looked last and why, remembering who I was at the time and what I felt.

“… I sound worked up because I’m more than a little miffed … No, not at you, dear. Not today, anyway … !” Shannon is on with someone else now, a smile in her tone. She’s a touch coquettish, possibly talking to Marino. “I thought it best to give you fair warning …”

Setting my briefcase and the plastic container on top of the conference table, I survey my plants and trees, worried about an appropriate habitat. According to Google, direct sunlight and temperatures below fifty degrees Fahrenheit are dangerous, possibly deadly, for crickets. I don’t want him too close to the windows. I need a better habitat than an evidence carton.

The cricket should have something with a little room to move around in. I open a cabinet of crime scene supplies that I always have on hand, not seeing a box or carton that will work better than what I’ve got. I do another Google search on my phone, and Amazon sells cricket pens. Who knew? I may as well, and I order one. I add bags of high-calcium cricket food, topsoil and vermiculite to my shopping basket.

Ducking inside my office bathroom, I’m unwilling to leave the building in surgical scrubs. It feels like I’m wearing pajamas while inviting unwanted attention. Now more than ever I wish to stay off the radar, preferring no one realizes who I am. After what happened in front of me at Old Town Market six weeks ago, I don’t feel the same about appearing in public.

For the longest time my focus was COVID. Now it’s violence, and no place is immune. It’s my nature to find potential dangers wherever I go anyway, and Lucy is the first to remind me of that. I’m always coming up with worst-case scenarios. But nothing I’ve witnessed tortures me like the naked fear I saw on her face when gunfire exploded. Just as quickly, her eyes steeled over while she drew her pistol, blood dripping as she pulled me to the floor.

“… No worries, Herbie does fine and dandy in the snow,” Shannon explains over the phone, talking about her pink VW Beetle. “The few times I’ve gotten stuck, I just put him in neutral and he’s light enough that I can push him …”

An eighth of an inch closer, and I couldn’t have saved her.

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