Patricia Cornwell - Unnatural Exposure

'Now you're sure you're feeling okay?' said the nurse as she hovered near the door.

'You've never told me your name,' I said.

'Sally.'

'You've been very helpful and I certainly appreciate it. I know it's no fun working on

Thanksgiving.'

This seemed to please her a great deal and gave her enough confidence to say, 'I haven't wanted to poke my nose into anything, but I can't help but hear what people are talking about. That island in Virginia where your case came from. All they do is crabbing there?'

'Pretty much,' I said.

'Blue crab.'

'And soft-shell crab.'

'Anybody bothering to worry about that?'

I knew what she was getting at, and yes, I was worried. I had a personal reason to be worried about Wesley and me.

'They ship those things all over the country, right?' she went on. I nodded.

'What if whatever that lady had is transmitted through water or food?' Her eyes were bright behind her hood. 'I didn't see her body, but I heard. That's really scary.'

'I know,' I said. 'I hope we can get an answer to that soon.'

'By the way, lunch is turkey. Don't expect much.'

She unplugged her air line and stopped talking. Opening the door, she gave me a little wave and went out. I turned back to the Concordance and had to search for a while under various words before I found the passage deadoc had quoted to me. It was Matthew 10, verse one, and in its entirety it read: And when he had called unto him his twelve disciples, he gave them power against unclean spirits, to cast them out, and to heal all manner of sickness and all manner of disease.

The next verse went on to identify the disciples by name, and then Jesus invoked them to go out and find lost sheep, and to preach to them that the kingdom of heaven was at hand. He directed his disciples to heal the sick, cleanse the lepers, raise the dead, cast out devils. As I read, I did not know if this killer who called himself deadoc had a message he believed, if twelve referred to the disciples, or if he was simply playing games.

I got up and paced, looking out the window as light waned. Night came early now, and it had become a habit for me to watch people walk out to their cars. Their breath was frosted, and the lot was almost empty because of the furlough. Two women

chatted while one held open the door to a Honda, and they shrugged and gestured with intensity, as if trying to resolve life's big problems. I stood looking through blinds

until they drove away.

I tried to go to sleep early to escape. But I was fitful again, rearranging myself and the covers every few hours. Images floated past the inside of my eyelids, projected like old movies, unedited and illogically arranged. I saw two women talking by a mailbox. One had a mole on her cheek that became eruptions all over her face as she shielded her eyes with a hand. Then palm trees were writhing in fierce winds as a hurricane roared in from the sea, fronds ripped off and flying. A trunk stripped bare, a bloody table lined with severed hands and feet.

I sat up sweating, and waited for my muscles to stop twitching. It was as if there were an electrical disturbance in my entire system, and I might have a heart attack or a stroke. Taking deep, slow breaths, I blanked out my mind. I did not move. When the vision had passed, I rang for the nurse.

When she saw the look on my face, she did not argue about the phone. She brought it right away and I called Marino after she left.

'You still in jail?' he said over the line.

'I think he killed his guinea pig,' I said.

'Whoa. How 'bout starting over again.'

'Deadoc. The woman he shot and dismembered may have been his guinea pig. Someone he knew and had easy access to.'

'I gotta confess, Doc, I got no idea what the hell you're talking about.' I could tell by his tone he was worried about my state of mind.

'It makes sense that he couldn't look at her. The M.O. makes a lot of sense.'

'Now you really got me confused.'

'If you wanted to find a way to murder people through a virus,' I explained, 'first you would have to figure out a way. The route of transmission, for example. Is it a food, a drink, dust? With smallpox, transmission is airborne, spread by droplets or by fluid from the lesions. The disease can be carried on a person or his clothes.'

'Start with this,' he said. 'Where did this person get the virus to begin with? Not exactly something you order through the mail.'

'I don't know. To my knowledge there are only two places in the world that keep archival smallpox. CDC and a laboratory in Moscow.'

'So maybe this is all a Russian plot,' he said, sardonically.

'Let me give you a scenario,' I said. 'The killer has a grudge, maybe even some delusion that he has a religious calling to bring back one of the worst diseases this planet has ever known. He's got to figure out a way to randomly infect people and be sure that it can work.'

'So he needs a guinea pig,' Marino said.

'Yes. And let's suppose he has a neighbor, a relative, someone elderly and not well. Maybe he even takes care of her. What better way to test the virus than on that person? And if it works, you kill her and stage her death to look like something else. After all, he certainly can't have her die of smallpox. Not if there is a connection between him and her. We might figure out who he is. So he shoots her in the head, dismembers her so we'll think it's the serial killings again.'

'Then how do you get from that to the lady on Tangier?'

'She was exposed,' I simply said.

'How? Was something delivered to her? Did she get something in the mail? Was it carried on the air? Was she pricked in her sleep?'

'I don't know how.'

'You think deadoc lives on Tangier?' Marino then asked.

'No, I don't,' I said. 'I think he picked it because the island is the perfect place to start an epidemic. Small, self-contained. Also easy to quarantine, meaning the killer doesn't intend to annihilate all of society with one blow. He's trying a little bit at a time, cutting us up in small pieces.'

'Yeah. Like he did the old lady, if you're right.'

'He wants something,' I said. 'Tangier is an attention-getter.'

'No offense, Doc, but I hope you're wrong about all of this.'

'I'm heading to Atlanta in the morning. How about checking with Vander, see if he's had any luck with the thumbprint.'

'So far he hasn't. It's looking like the victim doesn't have any prints on file. Anything comes up, I'll call your pager.'

'Damn,' I muttered, for the nurse had taken that, too.

The rest of the day moved interminably slowly, and it wasn't until after supper that

Fujitsubo came to say goodbye. Although the act of releasing me implied I was

neither infected nor infectious, he was in a blue suit, which he plugged into an air line.

'I should keep you longer,' he said right off, filling my heart with dread. 'Incubation, on average, is twelve to thirteen days. But it can be as long as twenty-one. What I'm saying to you is that you could still get sick.'

'I understand that,' I said, reaching for my water.

'The revaccination may or may not help depending on what stage you were in when I

gave it to you.'

I nodded. 'And I wouldn't be in such a hurry to leave if you would just take this on instead of sending me to CDC.'

'Kay, I can't.' His voice was muffled through plastic. 'You know it has nothing to do with what I feel like doing. But I can no more pull something out from under CDC than you can grab a case that isn't your jurisdiction. I've talked to them. They are most concerned over a possible outbreak and will begin testing the moment you arrive with the samples.'

'I fear terrorism may be involved.' I refused to back down.

'Until there is evidence of it - and I hope there won't be - we can do nothing more for you here.' His regret was sincere. 'Go to Atlanta and see what they have to say.