Page 8 of Sharp Force
“She said she’d heard a rumor that I was finding something interesting,” Cate explains.
“A rumor from whom?”
“I don’t know,” she replies. “But she said the Department of Emergency Prevention must be kept updated about cases going on in the medical examiner system. For demographic and epidemiological reasons. She kept reminding me it’s the law.”
“Yes, that’s what she tells everyone,” I reply. “Governor Dare in her infinite wisdom created the Department of Emergency Prevention and appointed Maggie Cutbush and Elvin Reddy to run what’s nothing more than a pork barrel bureaucracy if I ever saw one. But don’t quote me.”
“I understand.” Cate looks worried.
“We have to live with their useless agency,” I add. “But we don’t cooperate when it interferes with our patients. I don’t care how long they’ve been dead. The investigation comes first.”
“Oh dear,” Cate again says.
“How much did you tell Maggie?”
“Pretty much what I told you.”
“I’m sure she was quite interested,” I reply blandly as I think,Dear God.
“She wanted to know how many other Mercy Island patients from long ago appear to have died violently.”
“Does anybody else have a clue what we’ve started finding?” I ask, and she hesitates again.
“Well, Bose Flagler always wants to know what I’m working on.I figure since he’s the commonwealth’s attorney, he has a right to know…” Cate looks at me. “I hope I didn’t create a mess, Doctor Scarpetta.”
“There isn’t much you can do when it’s Flagler,” I reply. “But Maggie’s another story.”
“How am I supposed to handle it when she shows up claiming her department has a right to information about whatever I’m working on?”
“Refer her to me. We have a long history.” A most unpleasant one, but I’m not going to say that either. “Have a Merry Christmas, Cate. Stay safe.”
“You too.” She cranks up the CD player’s volume as I leave.
A waltz is playing now, fading in a minor key.
I round a bend in the corridor, theEXITsign ahead glowing red. Pushing through the metal fire door, I begin watching the Dana Diletti video that Wyatt emailed.
The TV journalist is scantily clad in stretchy workout shorts, a sports bra and socks that flaunt her stunning beauty when wearing no makeup or much else. She explains that she was on the Nordic Track in her bedroom late afternoon when the Phantom Slasher’s hologram levitated through a window.
“… Passing through the glass like it was air without triggering the alarm or anything else. I had earbuds in, listening to tunes when it happened…”she’s saying.
I’ve paused on the stairs to watch as she paces in her living room gaudy with Christmas baubles and lights. She passes a lighted showcase displaying her many broadcasting awards, including several Emmys.
“… I had no forewarning at all, making it all the more shocking…”
Glowing in the background like a nuclear power plant is a tall aluminum Christmas tree that looks spun of silvery glass. It’s over-decorated with ornaments and lights, brightly wrapped presents piled underneath.
“… Suddenly this horrible ghost was right in front of me…”
She strolls by electric candles and caroling figurines on the mantel. An illuminated Santa and his reindeer appear to be flying off a shelf.
“… Enough to give someone a heart attack, let me tell you…”
An elaborate nativity scene centers the mirrored-top coffee table, and a mobile of dancing elves twirls from the ceiling. Multiple poinsettias are placed about, probably artificial like everything else.
“… So, now we’re getting an idea what the Slasher’s victims experienced before he broke in, butchering them in their own beds…”
As she’s saying this, I think how foolish. It almost seems she’s goading the violent psychopath, daring him to show up and do to her what he’s done to others.
