I made myself a mug of hot tea and tried to calm down. It was only the middle of the afternoon in Seattle, and I pulled my National Academy of Medical Examiners directory off a shelf. I flipped through it and found the name and number of Seattle's chief.
'Dr. Menendez? It's Dr. Kay Scarpetta in Richmond,' I said when I got him on the phone.
'Oh,' he said, surprised. 'How are you? Merry Christmas.'
'Thank you. I'm sorry to bother you, but I need your help.'
He hesitated. 'Is everything all right? You sound very stressed.'
'I have a very difficult situation. A serial killer who is out of control.' I took a deep breath. 'One of the cases involves an unidentified young woman with a lot of gold foil restorations.'
'That's most curious,' he said thoughtfully. 'You know, there are still some dentists out here who do those.'
'That's why I'm calling. I need to talk to someone. Maybe the head of their organization.'
'Would you like me to make some calls?'
'What I'd like you to do is find out if by some small miracle their group is on a computer system. It sounds like a small and unusual society. They might be connected through E-mail or a bulletin board. Maybe something like Prodigy. Who knows? But I've got to have a way to get information to them instantly.'
'I'll put several of my staffers on it immediately,' he said.
'
'I'll put several of my staffers on it immediately,' he said. 'What's the best way for me to reach you?'
I gave him my numbers and hung up. I thought of Gault and the missing dark blue van. I wondered where he had gotten the body pouch he zipped Sheriff Brown in, and then I remembered. We always kept a new one in each van as a backup. So he had come here first and stolen the van. Then he had gone to Brown's house. I thumbed through the telephone directory again to see if the sheriff's residence was listed. It was not.
I picked up the phone and called directory assistance. I asked for Lament Brown's number. The operator gave it to me and I dialed it to see what would happen.
'I can't get to the phone right now because I'm out delivering presents in my sleigh…' the dead sheriff's voice sounded strong and healthy from his answering machine. 'Ho! Ho! Ho! Merrrrrrry Christmas!'
Unnerved, I got up to go to the ladies' room, revolver in hand. I was walking around my office armed because Gault had ruined this place where I had always felt safe. I stopped in the hall and looked up and down it. Gray floors had a buildup of wax and walls were eggshell white. I listened for any sound. He had gotten in here once. He could get in again.
Fear gripped me strongly, and when I washed my hands in the bathroom sink, they were trembling. I was perspiring and breathing hard. I walked swiftly to the other end of the corridor and looked out a window. I could see my car covered in snow, and just one van. The other van remained missing. I returned to my office and resumed dictating.
A telephone rang somewhere and I started. The creaking of my chair made me jump. When I heard the elevator across the hall open, I reached for the revolver and sat very still, watching the doorway as my heart hammered. Quick, firm footsteps sounded, getting louder as they got nearer. I raised the gun, both hands on the rubber grips.
Lucy walked in.
'Jesus,' I exclaimed, my finger on the trigger. 'Lucy, my God.' I set the gun on my desk. 'What are you doing here? Why didn't you call first? How did you get in?'
She looked oddly at me and the.38. 'Jan drove me down, and I've got a key. You gave me a key to your building a long time ago. I did call, but you weren't here.'
'What time did you call?' I was light-headed.
'A couple hours ago. You almost shot me.'
'No.' I tried to fill my lungs with air. 'I didn't almost shoot you.'
'Your finger wasn't on the side of the trigger guard, where it was supposed to be. It was on the trigger. I'm just glad you didn't have your Browning right now. I'm just glad you didn't have anything that's single action.'
'Please stop it,' I quietly said, and my chest hurt.
'The snow's more than two inches, Aunt Kay.'
Lucy was standing by the door, as if she were unsure about something. She was typically dressed in range pants, boots and a ski jacket.
An iron hand was squeezing my heart, my breathing labored. I sat motionless, looking at my niece as my face got colder.
'Jan's in the parking lot,' she was saying.
'The press is back there.'
'I didn't notice any reporters. But anyway, we're in the pay lot across the street.'
'They've had several muggings there,' I said. 'There was a shooting, too. About four months ago.'
Lucy was watching my face. She looked at my hands as I tucked the revolver in my pocketbook.