Black Notice - Cornwell Patricia (читать книги онлайн без TXT) 📗

"I don't know," she answered me.

"My scattered troops," I muttered.

She turned her collar up to her ears and tucked in her chin.

"It has come to this," I said. "When Carrie Gretten murdered Benton, she took out all the rest of us, too. Didn't she, Rose?"

"Of course it's had its horrendous effect. I've not known what I can do for you, but I've tried."

She glanced over at me as we walked, hunched against the cold.

"I've tried as hard as I can and still do," she went on.

"Everybody scattered," I muttered. "Lucy's angry with me, and when she gets that way, she always does the same thing. She shuts me out. Marino's not a detective anymore. And now I find out that you've been rolling my telephone calls over to Jack without asking me, Rose. Distraught families haven't been allowed to get through to me. Why would you do such a thing?"

We had reached her blue Honda Accord. Keys jingled as she dug for them in her big pocketbook.

"Isn't that funny," she said. "I was afraid you were going to ask me about your schedule. You're teaching at the Institute more than ever, and as I worked on next month's calendar, I realized you are terribly overcommitted. I should have picked upon it earlier and prevented it."

"That's the least of my worries at the moment," I replied, and I tried not to sound upset. "Why did you do this to me?" I said, and I wasn't talking about my commitments. "You shielded me from phone calls? You hurt me as a person and a professional."

Rose unlocked the door and started the engine, turning on the heat to warm up the car for her lonely ride home.

"I'm doing what you instructed me to do, Dr. Scarpetta," she finally answered me, her breath smoking out.

"I never instructed you to do such a thing, nor would I ever" I said, not believing what I was hearing. "And you know that. You know how I feel about being accessible to families:'

Of course she knew. I had gotten rid of two forensic pathologists in the -last five years because they had been so unavailable and indifferent to the grieving left behind.

"It wasn't with my blessing," Rose said, sounding like her mothering self again.

"When did I supposedly say this to you?"

"You didn't say it. You e-mailed it. This was back in late August."

"I never e-mailed such a thing to you," I told her. "Did you save it?"

"No," she said with regret. "I generally don't save e-mail. I have no reason to. I'm sorry I have to use it at all."

"What did this e-mail message allegedly from me say?"

"1 need you to redirect as many calls from families as you can. It's too hard for me right now. I know you understand Or words to that effect."

"And you didn't question this?" I said in disbelief.

She turned the heat down.

"Of course I did," she replied. "I e-mailed you right back and asked you about it. I voiced my concerns, and you replied that I was just to do it and not discuss it anymore:' "I never got an e-mail like that from you;" I told her.

"I don't know what to say," she replied, fastening her shoulder harness. "Except is it possible you just don't remember? I forget e-mails all the time. I'll say I didn't say something and then find out I did."

"No. It isn't possible."

"Then it would seem to me someone is pretending to be you.

"Is? Have there been more?"

"Not many," she replied. "Just one here and there, warm ones thanking me for being so supportive. And let's see…?"

She searched her memory. Lights in the parking lot made her car look dark green instead of blue. Her face was in shadows and I could not read her eyes. She tapped her gloved fingers on the steering wheel while I stood looking down at her. I was freezing.

"I know what it was," she suddenly said. "Secretary Wagner wanted you to meet with him and you told me to let him know you couldn't at that time."

"What?" I exclaimed.

"This was early last week;' she added.

"E-mail again?"

"Sometimes it's the only way to get hold of people these days. His assistant e-mailed me and I e-mailed you-you were in court somewhere. Then you e-mailed me back that evening, I guess from home."

"This is crazy;' I said, my mind running after possibilities and catching nothing.

Everyone in my office had my e-mail address. But no one except me should have my password, and obviously, no one could sign on as me without it. Rose was thinking the same thing.

"I don't know how this could happen," she said, then exclaimed, "Wait a minute. Ruth sets up AOL on each person's computer."

Ruth Wilson was my computer analyst.

"Of course. And she had to have my password in'order to do that," I carried out the thought. "But Rose, she would never do anything like this."

"Never in a million years;" Rose agreed. "But she must have the passwords written down somewhere. She couldn't possibly remember all of them."

"One would think so."

"Why don't you get inside the car before you die of exposure;" she said.

"You go on home and get some rest," I replied. "I'm going to do the same thing."

"Of course you won't;" she chided me. "You'll go right back into your office and try to figure everything out."

She was right. I walked back to the building as she drove off, and I wondered how I could be so foolish as to have gone out the door without a coat. I was stiff and numb. The night guard shook his head.

"Dr. Scarpetta, you need to dress warmer than that!"

"You're absolutely right," I said.

I passed the magnetic key over the lock and the first set of glass doors clicked free, then I unlocked the one to my wing of the building. It was absolutely silent inside, and when I turned into Ruth's office, I stood for a moment, just looking around at upright microcomputers and printers, and a map on a screen that showed if the connections to our other offices were trouble-free.

The floor behind her desk was a thick hank of cables, and printouts of software programming that made no sense to me were stacked all over the place. I scanned crammed bookshelves. I walked over to filing cabinets and tried to open a drawer. Every one of them was locked.

Good for you, Ruth, I thought.

I returned to my office and tried her home number.

"Hello?" she answered.

She sounded harried. There was a baby screaming in the background, and her husband was saying something about a frying pan.

"I'm sorry to bother you at home," I said.

"Dr. Scarpetta," she was very surprised. "You're not bothering me. Frank, can you take her in the other room?"

"I've got just one quick question," I said. "Is there a place you keep all our AOL passwords?"

"Is there a problem?" she quickly replied.

"It appears someone knows my password and is signing on to AOL as me." I didn't mince words. "I want to know how someone could possibly have gotten hold of my password. Is there any way?"

"Oh, no," she said, dismayed. "Are you sure?"

"Yes:' "Obviously, you haven't told anybody what it is," she suggested.

I thought hard for a moment. Not even Lucy knew my password. Nor would she care.

"Other than you," I said to Ruth, "I can't imagine who."

"You know I wouldn't give it to anyone!"

"I believe that," I replied, and I did.

For one thing, Ruth would never jeopardize her job that way.

"I keep everyone's addresses and passwords in a computer file that no one can access," she said.

"What about a hard copy?"

"In a file in a filing cabinet, which I keep locked."

"At all times?"

She hesitated, then said, "Well, not all the time. Certainly after hours, but they're unlocked much of the day, unless I'm in and out a lot. But I'm in my office most of the time. Really, it's only when I get coffee and eat lunch in the break room."

"What's the file's name?" I asked as paranoia towered like storm clouds.