Point of Origin

I got my BDUs and steel-reinforced boots from my turnout bag and shared the same changing room with the mannikin. Gerde was kind enough to give me a ride to the fire scene, and I was impressed by lush fir trees and roadside flower gardens, and every now and then, a well-kept, unassuming church. We turned on Hanover Drive, where homes were modern brick and wood, two-story and spacious, with basketball hoops, bicycles, and other signs of children.

'Do you have any idea of the price range?' I said, watching more houses flow past.

'Two-to-three-hundred-K range,' he said. 'Got a lot of engineers, nurses, stock brokers, and executives back here. Plus, I-78 is the main artery through Lehigh Valley, and you can shoot straight out on that and be in New York in an hour and a half. So some people commute back and forth to the city.'

'What else is around here?' I asked.

'A lot of industrial parks are just ten or fifteen minutes away. Coca-Cola, Air Products, Nestle warehouses, Perrier. You pretty much name it. And farmland.'

'But she worked at the hospital.'

'Right. And that's at most a ten-minute drive, as you can tell.'

'Are you aware of ever having seen her before?'

Gerde thought for a minute as thin smoke drifted up from behind trees at the end of the street.

'I'm fairly certain I've seen her in the cafeteria before,' he answered. 'It's hard not to notice someone who looked like that. She may have been at a table with other nurses, I don't really recall. But I don't think we ever spoke.'

Shephard's house was yellow clapboard with white trim, and although the fire may not have been difficult to contain, the damage from water, and from axes chopping great holes to vent the fire out of the roof, was devastating. What was left was a sad, sooty face with a caved-in head, and shattered windows that were depressed, lifeless eyes. Borders of wildflowers were trampled, the neatly mown grass turned to mud, and a late-model Camry parked in the drive was covered with cinders. Fire department and ATF investigators were working inside, while two FBI agents in flak jackets were prowling the perimeter.

I found McGovern in the backyard talking to an intense young woman dressed in cut-off jeans, sandals, and a T-shirt.

'And that was what? Close to six?' McGovern was saying to her.

'That's right. I was getting dinner ready and saw her pull into her driveway, parking exactly where her car is now,' the woman recounted excitedly. 'She went inside, then came out maybe thirty minutes later and began pulling weeds. She liked to work in the yard, cut her own grass and everything.'

McGovern watched me as I walked up.

'This is Mrs Harvey,' she said to me. 'The next-door neighbor.'

'Hello,' I said to Mrs Harvey, whose eyes were bright with excitement that bordered on fear.

'Dr Scarpetta is a medical examiner,' McGovern explained.

'Oh,' said Mrs Harvey.

'Did you see Kellie again that night?' McGovern then asked.

The woman shook her head.

'She went in,' she said, 'I guess, and that was it. I know she worked real hard and usually didn't stay up late.'

'What about a relationship? Was there anybody she saw?'

'Oh, she's been through them,' Mrs Harvey said. 'A doctor here and there, different folks from the hospital. I remember last year she started seeing this man who had been her patient. Nothing lasted very long, it seems to me. She's so beautiful, that's the problem. The men wanted one thing, and she had something different in mind. I know because she used to make remarks about it.'

'But nobody recently?' McGovern asked.

Mrs Harvey had to think.

'Just her girlfriends,' she replied. 'She has a couple people she works with, and sometimes they dropped by or went off somewhere together. But I don't remember any activity that night. I mean, that's not saying I would know. Someone could have come over, and I wouldn't necessarily have heard a thing.'

'Have we found her cat?' I asked.

McGovern did not answer.

'That darn cat,' Mrs Harvey said. 'Pumpkin. Spoiled, spoiled, spoiled.'

She smiled and her eyes filled with tears.

'That was her child,' Harvey said.

'An indoor cat?' I then asked.

'Oh, absolutely. Kellie never let that cat out of the house, treated him like a hothouse tomato.'

'His litter box was found in the backyard,' McGovern told her. 'Did Kellie sometimes empty it and leave it out all night? Or for that matter, did she have a habit of emptying it at night? Going out after dark, the door unlocked and the alarm off.'

Harvey looked confused, and I suspected she had no idea that her neighbor had been murdered.

'Well,' she said, 'I do know that I've seen her empty the litter before, but always in a trash bag that went into the super can. So it wouldn't make sense for her to do that at night. My guess is, she might have emptied it and left it outside to air, you know? Or maybe she just didn't have time to hose it off and was going to do it the next morning. But whatever the case, that cat knew how to use the toilet. So it wouldn't be any big deal for him to be without his litter box for a night.'

She stared off at a state police car cruising by.

'No one's said how the fire started,' Harvey went on. 'Do we know?'

'We're working on it,' McGovern said.

'She didn't die… well, it was quick, wasn't it?'

She squinted in the setting sun, and she bit her lower lip.

'I just don't want to think she suffered,' she said.

'Most people who die in fires don't suffer,' I answered, evading her question with gentle words. 'Usually carbon monoxide overcomes them and they aren't conscious.'

'Oh, thank God,' she said.

'I'll be inside,' McGovern said to me.

'Mrs Harvey,' I said, 'did you know Kellie very well?'

'We've been neighbors for almost five years. Not that we did a whole lot together, but I certainly knew her.'

'I'm wondering if you might have any recent photographs of her, or know someone who might?'

'I might have something.'

'I have to make sure of the identification,' I then said, although my motive was other than that.

I wanted to see for myself what Shephard had looked like in life.

'And if there's anything else you can tell me about her, I would appreciate it,' I went on. 'For example, does she have family here?'

'Oh no,' Harvey said, staring at her neighbor's ruined house. 'She was from all over. Her father was military, you know, and I think he and her mom live somewhere in North Carolina. Kellie was very worldly from having moved around so much. I used to tell her I wished I could be as strong and smart as her. She didn't take crap off anyone, let me tell you. One time there was a snake on my deck, and I called her, all hysterical. She came on and chased it in the yard and killed it with a shovel. I guess she had to get that way because the men just wouldn't leave her alone. I always told her she could be a movie star, and she would say, But Sandra, I can't act. And I would say, But neither can most of them!'

'She was pretty streetwise, then,' I said.

'You bet. That's why she had that burglar alarm put in. Feisty and streetwise, that's Kellie. If you want to come in with me, I'll see what I can do about pictures.'

'If you don't mind,' I said. 'That's very nice of you.'

We cut through a hedge and I followed her up steps into her big, bright kitchen. It was apparent that Harvey liked to cook, based on a well-stocked pantry and every conceivable appliance. Cookware hung from hooks in the ceiling, and whatever was simmering on the stove smelled rich with beef and onions, perhaps a stroganoff or stew.

'If you want to sit right over there by the window, I'll go get what I've got from the den,' she said.

I took a seat at the breakfast table and looked out the window at Kellie Shephard's house. I could see people passing behind broken windows, and someone had set up lights because the sun was low and smoldering. I wondered how often her neighbor had watched her come and go.