“Somebody’s been in here,” Marino said. “Probably that fucking Morales.”
Chapter 24
Lucy was alone in her loft, her old bulldog asleep by her chair.
She read more e-mails from Terri and Oscar as she talked to Scarpetta over the phone:
Date: Sun, 11 November 2007 11:12:03
From: “Oscar”
To: “Terri”
See, I told you Dr. Scarpetta wasn’t that kind of person. Obviously, she just didn’t get your earlier messages. Amazing how what’s under your nose and obvious sometimes works. Are you going to copy me on the e-mails?
Date: Sun, 11 November 2007 14:45:16
From: “Terri”
To: “Oscar”
No. That would be a violation of her Privacy.
This project has now risen to the stars. I’m in awe! So happy!
“What’s under her nose and obvious? It’s like she tried something, or he did, and got what he or she or both of them wanted,” Lucy said into her jawbone wireless earpiece. “What the hell’s she talking about?”
“I don’t know what was under her nose, but she’s mistaken. Or not being truthful,” Scarpetta replied.
“Probably untruthful,” Lucy said. “Which was why she wouldn’t let Oscar see e-mails from you.”
“There can’t be any e-mails from me,” Scarpetta said again. “I need to ask you about something. I’m standing in the middle of Terri Bridges’s apartment, and it’s not a good place for us to be having this conversation. Especially over cell phones.”
“I got you your cell phone. Remember? It’s special. You don’t have to worry. Neither do I. Our phones are secure.”
Lucy talked as she opened each e-mail account and looked in the e-mail trash for anything useful that might have been deleted.
She said, “May have given Oscar a reason to resent you as well. His girlfriend’s obsessed with her hero, who finally has answered her—he’s led to believe. And she won’t let him see the e-mails. Sounds like you might have created a problem you didn’t know anything about.”
“Or have anything to do with,” Scarpetta said. “What type of power supplies do her laptops use? That’s my simple question.”
One of Terri’s e-mail accounts was empty, and Lucy had saved that one for last, assuming Terri had created it but simply never gotten around to using it. As Lucy opened the trash folder, she was stunned by what she found.
“Wow,” Lucy said. “This is unbelievable. She deleted everything yesterday morning. One hundred and thirty-six e-mails. She deleted them one right after another.”
“Not a USB but a magnetized power cord? What was deleted?” Scarpetta asked.
“Hold on,” Lucy said. “Don’t go anywhere. Stay on with me and we’ll look at this together. You might want to get Jaime, Benton, Marino in there and put me on speakerphone.”
All of the deleted e-mails were between Terri and another user with the name Scarpetta612.
Six-twelve—June 12—was Scarpetta’s birthday.
The Internet service provider address was the same as that of the eighteen accounts that were assumed to be Terri’s, but Scarpetta612 wasn’t listed in the history. It hadn’t been created on this laptop, nor was that account accessed by this laptop or—based on the dates of the e-mails Lucy was already seeing—Scarpetta612 would be listed in the history along with the other eighteen accounts.
It would be in the history if Terri had created Scarpetta612. But there was no evidence she had, not so far.
“Scarpetta six-twelve,” Lucy said, scrolling through text. “Someone with that username was writing to her—to Terri, I’m presuming. Can you get Jaime and Marino so we can get the password to that account?”
“Anybody could come up with some permutation of my name, and my date of birth is no big secret, if anybody cares,” her aunt said.
“Just give Jaime the username. Scarpetta appended to the numbers six one two.”
Lucy gave her the e-mail service provider and waited. She could hear Scarpetta talking to someone. It sounded like Marino.
Then Scarpetta said to Lucy, “It’s being taken care of.”
“Like right now,” Lucy said.
“Yes, right now. I was asking if either of the laptops you have might use a magnetized power supply.”
“No,” Lucy said. “USB, recessed five pin port, eighty-five-watt. What you’re talking about wouldn’t be recognized by Terri’s laptops. The IP for Scarpetta six-twelve traces to eight-ninety-nine Tenth Avenue. Isn’t that John Jay College of Criminal Justice?”
“What IP? And yes. What’s John Jay got to do with anything? Jaime and Marino are still here. They want to listen to what you’re saying. I’m putting you on speakerphone. What’s Benton doing?” she asked them.
Lucy could hear Berger’s voice in the background say something about Benton being on the phone with Morales. It bothered Lucy to hear Berger say anything about Morales, and she wasn’t sure why unless it was her sense that he was interested in Berger, that he wanted her sexually, and maybe it seemed he had a way of getting what he wanted.
“Whoever was writing to Terri and saying she was you was doing so from that IP address, from John Jay,” Lucy said.
She continued going through deleted e-mails sent by someone who was clearly impersonating her aunt.
“I’m going to forward some of these,” she said. “Everybody should look at them, then I need the password, okay? This most recent one was sent by Scarpetta six-twelve to Terri four days ago, December twenty-eighth, at close to midnight. The day after Bhutto was assassinated, and you talked about it on CNN, Aunt Kay. You were here in New York.”
“I was, but that’s not me. That’s not my e-mail address,” Scarpetta insisted.
The e-mail read:
Date: Fri, 28 December 2007 23:53:01
From: “Scarpetta”
To: “Terri”
Terri,
Again, I owe you an apology. I’m sure you understand. Such a terrible tragedy, and I had to get to CNN. I wouldn’t blame you for thinking I don’t keep my word, but I don’t have much say about my schedule when somebody dies or other inconveniences interfere. We’ll try again!—Scarpetta
P.S. Did you get the photograph?
Lucy read it over the phone and said, “Aunt Kay? When did you leave CNN that night?”
“Other inconveniences?” Berger’s voice talking to Scarpetta. “As if you would refer to an assassination or any other act of violence as an inconvenience? Who the hell is doing this? Sound like anybody you might know?”
“No.” Scarpetta’s voice answering Berger. “Nobody.”
“Marino?” Berger again.
His voice. “Got no idea. But she wouldn’t say nothing like that,” as if Scarpetta needed him to stick up for her character. “I don’t think it’s Jack, if that’s entered anybody’s head.”
He meant Jack Fielding, and it was unlikely he would have entered anybody’s head. He was a solid forensic pathologist and meant well and in the main was loyal to Scarpetta, but he was a musclebrain with ragged moods and an assortment of physical problems such as high cholesterol and skin disorders from his years of pumping iron and pumping himself full of anabolic steroids. He didn’t have the energy to parade as Scarpetta on the Internet, and he wasn’t cunning or cruel, and to give Terri Bridges the benefit of the doubt, if she wasn’t Scarpetta612, then it was cruel of somebody to lead her on. In the beginning, at least, she’d idolized Scarpetta. She’d tried hard to get in touch with her. If she finally thought Scarpetta was responding to her, that had to be a thrill until her hero started to diss her.