We walked along a polished white hallway toward elevators and headed down. Uniformed officers were everywhere, and when glass doors slid open outside the emergency room, three of them appeared to escort us to our cars. Marino and the chief had parked in police slots, and when I saw Tucker's personal car, I felt another spasm in my chest. He drove a black Porsche 911. It was not new, but it was in excellent condition.
Marino saw the car, too. He remained silent as he unlocked his Crown Victoria.
'Were you on 95 South last night?' I asked Tucker as soon as we were inside his car.
He pulled his shoulder harness across his chest and started the engine. 'Why would you ask me that?' He did not sound defensive, only curious.
'I was coming home from Quantico and a car similar to this one was tailgating us.'
'Who is us?'
'I was with Marino.'
'I see.' He turned right outside the parking deck, toward headquarters. 'So you were with the Grand Dragon.'
'Then it was you,' I said as wipers pushed away snow.
Streets were slick and I felt the car slip as Tucker slowed at a traffic light.
'I did see a Confederate flag bumper sticker last night,' he said. 'And I did express my lack of appreciation for it.'
'The truck it was on is Marino's.'
'I did not care whose truck it was.'
I looked over at him.
'Serves the captain right.' He laughed.
'Do you always act so aggressively?' I asked. 'Because it's a good way to get shot.'
'One is always welcome to try.'
'I don't recommend tailgating and taunting rednecks.'
'At least you admit he is a redneck.'
'I meant the comment in general,' I said.
'You are an intelligent, refined woman, Dr. Scarpetta. I fail to understand what you see in him.'
'There is a lot to see in him if one takes the trouble to look.'
'He is racist. He is homophobic and chauvinistic. He's one of the most ignorant human beings I've ever met, and I wish he were some other person's problem.
He is homophobic and chauvinistic. He's one of the most ignorant human beings I've ever met, and I wish he were some other person's problem.'
'He doesn't trust anything or anyone,' I said. 'He's cynical, and not without reason, I'm sure.'
Tucker was quiet.
'You don't know him,' I added.
'I don't want to know him. What I'd like is for him to disappear.'
'Please don't do anything that wrong,' I said with feeling. 'You would be making such a mistake.'
'He is a political nightmare,' the chief said. 'He should never have been placed in charge of First Precinct.'
'Then transfer him back to the detective division, to A Squad. That's really where he belongs.'
Tucker quietly drove. He did not wish to discuss Marino anymore.
'Why was I never told someone wanted to kill me?' I asked, and the words sounded weird, and I really could not accept their meaning. 'I want to know why you did not tell me I was under surveillance.'
'I did what I thought was best.'
'You should have told me.'
He looked in his rearview mirror to make sure Marino was still behind us as he drove around the back of Richmond police department headquarters.
'I believed telling you what snitches had divulged would only place you in more danger. I was afraid you might become…' He paused. 'Well, aggressive, anxious. I did not want your demeanor substantially changing. I did not want you going on the offense and perhaps escalating the situation.'
'I do not think you had a right to be so secretive,' I said with feeling.
'Dr. Scarpetta.' He stared straight ahead. 'I honestly did not care what you thought and still don't. I only care about saving your life.'
At the police entrance to the parking lot, two officers with pump shotguns stood guard, their uniforms black against snow. Tucker stopped and rolled his window down.
'How's it going?' he asked.
A sergeant was stern, shotgun pointing at the planets. 'It's quiet, sir.'
'Well, you guys be careful.'
'Yes, sir. We will.'
Tucker shut his window and drove on. He parked in a space to the left of double glass doors that led into the lobby and lockup of the large concrete complex he commanded. I noticed few cruisers or unmarked cars in the lot. I supposed there were accidents to be worked this slippery night, and everyone else was out looking for Gault. To law enforcement, he had earned a new rank. He was a cop killer now.
'You and Sheriff Brown have similar cars,' I said, unfastening my seat belt.
'And there the similarity ends,' Tucker said, getting out.
His office was along a dreary hallway, several doors from A Squad, where the homicide detectives lived. The chief's quarters were surprisingly simple, furniture sturdy but utilitarian. He had no nice lamps or rugs, and walls were absent the expected photographs of himself with politicians or celebrities. I saw no certificates or diplomas that might tell where he had gone to school or what commendations he had won.