Realizing it could be many hours before I returned to the cottage, I left a note taped to the front door that cryptically instructed Lucy how to let herself in should I not be here.

I hid a key only she could find, then loaded medical bag and dive equipment into the trunk of my black Mercedes.

At quarter of ten the temperature had risen to thirty-eight degrees, and my attempts to reach Captain Pete Marino in Richmond were frustrating.

"Thank God," I muttered when my car phone finally rang.

I snatched it up. "Scarpetta."

"Yo."

"You've got your pager on. I'm shocked," I said to him.

"If you're so shocked, then why the hell'd you call it?"

He sounded pleased to hear from me. "What's up?"

"You know that reporter you dislike so much?" I was careful not to divulge details because we were on the air and could be monitored by scanners.

"As in which one?"

"As in the one who works for AP and is always dropping by my office."

He thought a moment, then said, "So what's the deal?

You have a run-in with him?"

"Unfortunately, I may be about to. I'm on my way to the Elizabeth River. Chesapeake just called."

"Wait a minute. Not that kind of run-in." His tone was ominous.

"I'm afraid so."

"Holy shit."

"We've got only a driver's license. So we can't be certain, yet. I'm going to go in and take a look before we move him."

"Now wait a damn minute," he said. "Why the hell do you need to do something like that? Can't other people take care of it?"

"I need to see him before he's moved," I repeated.

Marino was very displeased because he was overly protective. He didn't have to say another word for me to know that.

"I just thought you might want to check out his residence in Richmond," I told him.