"Probably almost every other case you've done in the last couple months:' "That can't be right," I retorted.
He was silent, and as I thought about it, doubts crowded my mind again. Families hadn't seemed to be calling me as much as they used to, but I hadn't paid much attention because there was never a pattern, never a way to predict. Some relatives wanted every detail. Others called to vent their rage. Some people went into denial and wanted to know nothing.
"Then I can assume there have been complaints about me," I said. "Grieving, upset people thinking I'm arrogant and cold-blooded. And I don't blame them."
"Some have complained."
I could tell by his face that there had been more than just a few complaints. I had no doubt that letters had been written to the governor, too.
"Who's been rolling these calls over to you?" I asked matter-of-factly and quietly because I was afraid I might roar like a tornado down the hall and swear at everyone once I left this room.
"Dr. Scarpetta, it didn't seem unusual that you wouldn't want to talk about some things to traumatized people right now," he tried to make me understand. "Some painful things that might remind you… it made sense to me. Most of these people just want a voice, a doctor, and if I've not been around, either Jill or Bennett has," he said, referring to two of my resident doctors. "I guess the only big problem is when none of us has been available and somehow Dan or Amy have ended up with the calls."
Dan Chong and Amy Forbes were rotating medical students here to learn and observe. Never in a million years should they have been put in a position to talk to families.
"Oh, no," I said, closing my eyes at the nightmarish thought.
"Mainly after hours. That damn answering service," he said.
"Who's been rolling the telephone calls over to you?" I asked him again, this time more firmly.
He sighed. Fielding looked as grim and as worried as he'd ever been.
"Tell me;' I insisted.
"Rose," he said.
15
Rose was buttoning her coat and wrapping a long silk scarf around her neck when I walked into her office a few minutes before six o'clock. She had been working late as usual. Sometimes I had to make her go home at the end of the day, and although that had impressed and touched me in the past, now it made me uneasy.
"I'll walk you to your car;" I offered.
"Oh," she said. "Well, you certainly don't have to do that."
Her face got tight, her fingers suddenly fumbling with kid leather gloves. She knew I had something on my mind she didn't want to hear, and I suspected she knew exactly what it was. We said little to each other as we followed the hallway to the front office, our feet quiet on the carpet, the awkwardness between us palpable.
My heart was heavy. I wasn't sure if I was angry or crushed, and I began to wonder all sorts of things. What else had Rose kept from me and how long had it been going on? Was her fierce loyalty a possessiveness I hadn't recognized? Did she feel I belonged to her?
"I don't guess Lucy ever called," I said as we emerged into the empty marble lobby.
"No," Rose replied. "I tried her office several times, too.
"She got the flowers?"
"Oh, yes."
The night guard waved at us.
"It's cold out there! Where's your coat?" he said to me.
"I'll be all right," I answered him with a smile, and then to Rose I said, "We know that Lucy actually saw them?"
She looked confused.
"The flowers," I said. "Do we know if Lucy saw them?"
"Oh, yes," my secretary said again. "Her supervisor said she came in and saw them, read the card and everybody was teasing her, asking who'd sent them."
"I don't guess you know if she took them home with her."
Rose glanced over at me as we went out of the building into the dark, empty parking lot. She looked old and sad, and I didn't know if her eyes were tearing up because of me or the cold, sharp air.
"I don't know," she answered me.
"My scattered troops," I muttered.
She turned her collar up to her ears and tucked in her chin.
"It has come to this," I said. "When Carrie Gretten murdered Benton, she took out all the rest of us, too. Didn't she, Rose?"
"Of course it's had its horrendous effect. I've not known what I can do for you, but I've tried."
She glanced over at me as we walked, hunched against the cold.
"I've tried as hard as I can and still do," she went on.
"Everybody scattered," I muttered. "Lucy's angry with me, and when she gets that way, she always does the same thing. She shuts me out. Marino's not a detective anymore. And now I find out that you've been rolling my telephone calls over to Jack without asking me, Rose. Distraught families haven't been allowed to get through to me. Why would you do such a thing?"
We had reached her blue Honda Accord. Keys jingled as she dug for them in her big pocketbook.
"Isn't that funny," she said. "I was afraid you were going to ask me about your schedule. You're teaching at the Institute more than ever, and as I worked on next month's calendar, I realized you are terribly overcommitted. I should have picked upon it earlier and prevented it."
"That's the least of my worries at the moment," I replied, and I tried not to sound upset. "Why did you do this to me?" I said, and I wasn't talking about my commitments. "You shielded me from phone calls? You hurt me as a person and a professional."
Rose unlocked the door and started the engine, turning on the heat to warm up the car for her lonely ride home.
"I'm doing what you instructed me to do, Dr. Scarpetta," she finally answered me, her breath smoking out.
"I never instructed you to do such a thing, nor would I ever" I said, not believing what I was hearing. "And you know that. You know how I feel about being accessible to families:'
Of course she knew. I had gotten rid of two forensic pathologists in the -last five years because they had been so unavailable and indifferent to the grieving left behind.
"It wasn't with my blessing," Rose said, sounding like her mothering self again.
"When did I supposedly say this to you?"
"You didn't say it. You e-mailed it. This was back in late August."
"I never e-mailed such a thing to you," I told her. "Did you save it?"
"No," she said with regret. "I generally don't save e-mail. I have no reason to. I'm sorry I have to use it at all."
"What did this e-mail message allegedly from me say?"
"1 need you to redirect as many calls from families as you can. It's too hard for me right now. I know you understand Or words to that effect."
"And you didn't question this?" I said in disbelief.
She turned the heat down.
"Of course I did," she replied. "I e-mailed you right back and asked you about it. I voiced my concerns, and you replied that I was just to do it and not discuss it anymore:' "I never got an e-mail like that from you;" I told her.
"I don't know what to say," she replied, fastening her shoulder harness. "Except is it possible you just don't remember? I forget e-mails all the time. I'll say I didn't say something and then find out I did."
"No. It isn't possible."
"Then it would seem to me someone is pretending to be you.
"Is? Have there been more?"
"Not many," she replied. "Just one here and there, warm ones thanking me for being so supportive. And let's see…?"
She searched her memory. Lights in the parking lot made her car look dark green instead of blue. Her face was in shadows and I could not read her eyes. She tapped her gloved fingers on the steering wheel while I stood looking down at her. I was freezing.
"I know what it was," she suddenly said. "Secretary Wagner wanted you to meet with him and you told me to let him know you couldn't at that time."
"What?" I exclaimed.
"This was early last week;' she added.
"E-mail again?"
"Sometimes it's the only way to get hold of people these days. His assistant e-mailed me and I e-mailed you-you were in court somewhere. Then you e-mailed me back that evening, I guess from home."