The Body Farm: Scarpetta (Book 5)
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When an eleven-year-old girl is found murdered, Kay Scarpetta, Chief Medical Examiner for the Commonwealth of Virginia, gets another chance at stopping one of the most heartless and horrifying serial killers of her career: the demented Temple Gault.
dropped one of them again. At last, he presented them to us, the room numbers stamped on the attached plastic medallions big enough to read at twenty paces. “You ever heard of security in this joint?” Marino said as if he had hated the boy since birth. “You’re supposed to write the room number on a piece of paper which you privately slip to the guest so every drone can’t see where he keeps the wife and Rolex. In case you ain’t keeping up with the news, you had a murder real close to here just a
back behind its walls. 9 Dr. Jenrette was doing paperwork in the morgue when I arrived as the hearse did shortly before ten. He smiled nervously at me as I took off my suit jacket and put a plastic apron over my clothes. “Would you have a guess as to how the press found out about the exhumation?” I asked, unfolding a surgical gown. He looked startled. “What happened?” “About a dozen reporters showed up at the cemetery.” “That’s a real shame.” “We need to make sure nothing more gets
like?” I asked as a quiet alarm began to sound in the back of my brain. “I don’t know,” Wren said. “He’s a greaser ‘cause he’s always wearing white socks with boots. I guess he’s pretty old.” He sighed. “Do you know his last name?” Wren shook his head. “Has he always worked at your school?” He shook his head again. “He took Albert’s place. Albert got sick from smoking, and they had to cut his lung out.” “Wren,” I asked, “did Creed and Emily know each other?” He was talking faster and
again. “Go ahead and admit it, Aunt Kay. You think I did it, don’t you?” “Lucy,” I said honestly, “I don’t know what to think. You and the evidence are saying two different things.” “I have never doubted you.” She looked at me as if I had broken her heart. “You’re welcome to stay here through Christmas,” I said. 11 The member of the North Richmond Gang on trial the next morning wore a double-breasted navy suit and an Italian silk tie with a perfect Windsor knot. His white shirt looked
waiting for the taxi you called for more than an hour now,” I said to a young man cleaning up the bar. “It’s homecoming weekend, ma’am. That’s the problem.” “I understand, but I must get back to my hotel.” “Where are you staying?” “The Hyatt.” “They have a shuttle. Want me to try it for ya?” “Please.” The shuttle was a van, and the chatty young driver asked all about a football game I never saw as I thought how easy it would be to find yourself helped by a stranger who was a Bundy or a