Chapter 24

CHAPTER 24

T he next morning, I open my eyes in the dark and wouldn’t know where I am if Reveille wasn’t playing through outdoor speakers. It’s five o’clock, and Benton doesn’t stir next to me even as trumpets blare. We stayed up much too late, and agreed there was no rush to hit the road this morning.

I sneak out of bed without disturbing him, the carpet rough beneath my bare feet as Reveille stops. The quiet is restored except for the sound of water running overhead in pipes as other guests stir. Closing the bedroom door after me, I carry my phone into the kitchen. I turn on the lights, filling the coffeemaker’s reservoir.

Opening the refrigerator, I inspect our leftovers. Fried chicken and biscuits sound good. The mashed potatoes I can turn into fritters. Not perfect without cheese and onions, but they’ll be delicious, and my stomach growls. Wrapping the chicken and biscuits in foil, I begin warming them in the toaster oven.

As coffee brews, I scroll through messages and emails, and have several from Fabian. I’m surprised to learn that he and Faye spent the night in the on-call room inside my building.

Hope you don’t mind that we helped ourselves to what’s in the fridge, he texted at one A.M.

I wonder what possessed them to have a sleepover, and I answer him, not expecting he’ll respond at this hour. But my phone rings right away.

“I hope you’re getting enough rest and not drinking so much coffee,” I say to Fabian first thing. “Are you feeling better than you were yesterday, I hope?”

“I’ll live.” His voice is sullen over the phone.

“What’s up with you and Faye? Why the need to sleep in the building?” I find a frying pan in the drawer under the oven.

“We worked late and thought we should just hunker down,” he says.

“Because…?” I find a spatula.

“Because Luna Briley’s body is still here.”

“You don’t need to babysit.” I turn on an electric burner on the stovetop.

“We don’t trust what’s going on, Doctor Scarpetta. I guess you know what’s all over the news.” Fabian sounds angry and scared. “The things Ryder Briley’s accusing you and me of.”

“I know all about it…,” I start to say.

“And now a dead body’s been found in the Oz theme park he owns. I guarantee he’s involved in all of it, and not that it will surprise you? But I’ve been checking on her medical records, and nowhere is there any indication that she was diabetic.”

“I figured as much since there was no insulin at the scene.”

“More of their lies,” Fabian says. “And bottom line, Faye and I don’t feel safe. And that’s because we aren’t safe. And who’s going to protect us? Imagine the people Ryder Briley’s got in his pocket, including judges and cops? Imagine if his daughter’s body gets stolen…”

“Hopefully we don’t have to worry about someone breaking into our building after hours. You shouldn’t feel like you need to stay there unless that’s your choice.” I peel open mini-tubs of butter, and Benton was thoughtful enough to ask for extra. “Teresa should be working security.” I’m referring to our most recent hire. “I assume all is quiet now?”

“She’s one person. And there’s only so much any of the security officers can do. Believe me, she appreciates our being here after what happened at three A.M. when the bay door rolled open on its own.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I wipe my hands with paper towels.

“I’m as serious as a heart attack,” Fabian says. “And nobody was there. Just the empty night. It was spooky, a really bad energy field. And of course, we didn’t think to bring any sage with us.”

“But the bay door is fine now?” I melt butter in the pan.

“So far. But the elevator is totally screwed up. It’s not working at all, and we’ve gotten several more of the hang-ups from an out of area number. It’s like someone is sticking pins in our doll.”

“Maybe someone is.” I tell him it’s possible we’ve been hacked. “That means the building isn’t secure, as evidenced by the bay door rolling up in the middle of the night.”

“I don’t know how you prevent stuff like this anymore.”

“It’s getting harder.” I flatten dollops of mashed potatoes in the sizzling butter.

“When will you and Marino leave wherever you are?” Fabian asks.

“Not sure about him as we’ve not communicated yet today. But likely I won’t be back until this afternoon.” I check on the toaster oven.

“I don’t guess you’re going to tell me what’s going on with the ET Whisperer, Sal Giordano, who’s all over the news? Obviously, that’s what you’ve been tied up with…”

“The examination is being handled at a military facility,” I recite as scripted, flipping the fritters, sprinkling them with salt and pepper.

“So, where are you?”

“In a place where I’m reachable by phone. That’s all you need to know.” I hear firearms examiner Faye Hanaday saying something in the background.

“Hold a sec,” Fabian tells me, and then she’s on the line.

“Doctor Scarpetta? Good morning,” she begins. “Thanks for letting us stay here. And I’m afraid we polished off the bread and tuna fish.”

“It’s not an Airbnb but you’re welcome anytime. I hope Fabian’s not feeling as unsettled as he was yesterday.”

“It’s this case.” Faye lowers her voice. “Luna Briley’s hit a real nerve with him. When he was a little kid, the girl next door wandered into his family’s yard and drowned in their swimming pool. She was four, and obviously not well looked after.”

“I didn’t know, and how terrible,” I reply.

“You know how Fabian is. He figured way back then that he should have prevented it somehow.”

“I understand better than you might imagine,” I answer. “What do you have for me, Faye?”

“You’ll get the official report soon enough, but I happen to know from Lee about the gunshot residue,” she says. “I assume you’d like to hear the results right away? As long as you don’t tell him I told you.”

The fritters are golden brown, and I place them on a paper-towel-covered plate as Faye explains what happened late yesterday. She says that trace evidence examiner Lee Fishburne analyzed samples with scanning electron microscopy and spectroscopy. The gunshot residue (GSR) swabs from Luna Briley’s hands are negative.

“As are ones taken from hair and skin around the entrance wound,” Faye informs me. “And her pajama top is negative. But there’s other stuff on it that Lee says is unexpected and inexplicable. I can give you the upshot unofficially…?”

“Please.” I tear open packets of honey.

“When I walked into his lab, he was analyzing these strange particles that were on Luna Briley’s pajama top. I could see them on the video displays, the magnification 500X. They brought to mind microscopic asteroids with chunks of shiny metal attached.”

“And their composition?” I arrange pieces of chicken on buttered biscuit halves, dribbling honey over them.

“Made mostly of silica but also magnesium, aluminum, iron and other elements,” she replies.

“Sounds a lot like dirt,” I reply, and I wouldn’t have been aware of it.

I didn’t examine Luna’s pajamas. When I removed them from her body, they were air-dried in the evidence room. Then they were delivered upstairs to the trace evidence lab for Lee to go over thoroughly.

“Lee has an idea what it might be but won’t say until it’s confirmed by some expert he contacted,” Faye explains. “He told me that when he went over the pajamas with a UV light, the particles fluoresced cobalt blue,” she adds to my amazement. “So, what is the stuff and how did it get on her?”

“Her pajamas aren’t the only place a sparkling residue like that has shown up,” I reply, thinking of the dust lighting up all over Sal’s body.

Then images of the Oz theme park flash in my mind. I envision the candy-coated peanuts I recovered from Luna’s stomach, and those in the bin at Briley Flight Services. It’s as if I’m walking into a spiderweb of threads and connections I feel but can’t follow.

“I plan to start doing test fires this morning for distance and trajectory,” Faye tells me as I turn off the toaster oven.

“Who else knows about the trace evidence besides Lee, you, Fabian?” Collecting napkins, I take the plastic tray out from under the empty ice bucket.

“I can’t say for sure. Fabian and I aren’t talking about it with anyone but each other.”

“What about Blaise Fruge?”

“It wouldn’t be up to me to tell her,” Faye replies, and she’s right about that.

Moments later, I’m carrying the breakfast tray into the bedroom, and by now Benton is sitting up under the covers. He’s wedged two pillows behind his back, looking at his phone, his face illuminated in the near dark. I set a coffee and his plate on the table next to him, explaining what I just learned from Fabian and Faye.

“I agree it’s curious about the fluorescing residue.” He cuts a fritter with his fork, taking a bite. “Damn that’s good.” He takes another hungry bite. “We don’t know for a fact that the sparkling residue on Luna Briley’s pajamas and Sal’s body is the same thing. I’m suspicious just like you are, but we don’t have enough information yet.”

“Whatever’s fluorescing cobalt blue is very unusual.” I settle on the bed, my plate in my lap. “Everything we’re finding out certainly makes me wonder what Ryder Briley is involved in. And we can be sure there will be hell to pay when I decide his daughter’s death is a homicide.”

“When do you think that will happen?” Benton reaches for his coffee as I devour my biscuit.

“If Faye’s test fires tell us what I think they will, then I’ll rule on the manner of death.” Paper crinkles as I wipe my hands with a napkin. “I’ll decide it’s a homicide, and the police will have to investigate the parents and anyone else who might have been on the property at the time Luna was shot.”

When Benton and I are finished eating, we set our plates on the bedside tables, the rising sun bright around the edges of the draperies. Fighter jets are screaming overhead again, and I don’t intend to let him get up just yet. We’re not done communicating in the important ways, and I lean against him, lacing my fingers in his.

“While we have a private moment, talk to me. Are you all right?” I ask him. “Because I don’t think you are no matter how good you are at pretending.”

I know what’s bothering him and that he needs to say it. I move closer, resting my head on his chest.

“I’m okay.”

“That’s not good enough.” I hear the thumping of his heart, his skin warm beneath my cheek.

“Maybe I don’t like being reminded of other people you’ve been with,” he says into my hair. “Especially him.” He means Sal.

“Our summer together was another life ago,” I reply. “It seems like someone else.”

“But it wasn’t someone else.”

“I never felt about him the way I’ve always felt about you, Benton. Probably the reason I was with him was to get away from you.”

I remember feeling ruined. We worked together. He was married with children, and I was drawn to him with the pull of a vacuum. I didn’t fight it hard enough. Looking back, I don’t think I could. I’m not proud of our affair but would do it again if it was the only way to have him.

“And maybe I don’t like being reminded of people you’ve been with either.” I stroke his arm. “And that you have an estranged family out there who won’t forgive or forget.”

“A testament to my inadequacies when it comes to personal relationships,” Benton says. “Just ask Connie. She told me often enough.”

“You should have divorced her even if I hadn’t come along.” I kiss him as we hold each other close. “We don’t have to be anywhere for a little while, do we?”