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."Someone put a bomb in her mailbox," he says, talking fast."It's too much to go into.Some of it she needs to tell you."Scarpetta creeps almost to a halt inside the parking lot, heading in the direction of the visitors' slots."When and what?" she asks."I just found it.Not even an hour ago.Came by to check on the place and saw the flag up on the mailbox, which didn't make sense.I opened it and this big plastic cup's inside, the whole thing colored orange with marker, and the lid's colored green with a piece of duct tape around the lid and over the opening, you know, the little spout you drink out of, and I couldn't see what was in it so I got one of those long poles out of the garage, what do you call it.Has the grippers on the end for changing light bulbs that are high up.I picked the damn thing up with it, carried it out back, and took care of it."She takes her time parking, the car barely moving while she listens."How did you manage that? I hate to ask.""Shot it.Don't worry.With snake shot.It was a chemical bomb, a bottle bomb, you know the type.With little pieces of tinfoil balled up inside."Metal to accelerate the reaction." Scarpetta starts going through the differential diagnosis of the bomb."Typical in bottle bombs made out of household cleaners that contain hydrochloric acid like the Works for toilet bowls that you can get from Wal-Mart, the grocery store, a hardware store.Unfortunately, the recipes are available on the Internet.""It had an acid odor, more like chlorine, but since I shot it by the pool, maybe that's what I was smelling.""Possibly granulated pool chlorine and some type of sugary soda pop.That's also popular.A chemical analysis will tell.""Don't worry.One will be done.""Anything left of the cup?" she asks."We'll check for prints and get anything we find right into IAFIS.""Theoretically, you can get DNA from prints, if they're fresh.It's worth a try.""We'll swab the cup and the duct tape.Don't worry."The more he says don't worry, the more she will."I haven't called the police," he adds."It's not my place to advise you about that." She has given up advising him or anyone associated with him.The rules of Lucy and her people are different and creative and risky, and quite often they are inconsistent with what is legal.Scarpetta has ceased demanding to know details that will keep her awake at night."This may be related to some other things," Rudy says."Lucy needs to tell you.If you talk to her before I do, she needs to call me ASAP.""Rudy, you'll do what you want.But let me just say I hope there aren't any other devices out there, that whoever did this didn't leave more than one, didn't have more than one target," she says."I've had cases of people who died when these chemicals exploded in their faces or were thrown in their faces and it got into the airway and lungs.The acids are so strong the reaction doesn't even need to go to completion before the thing blows.""I know, I know.""Please find some way to make sure there aren't other victims or potential victims out there.That's what concerns me if you handle things on your own." It is her way of saying that if he doesn't intend to call the police, he should at least be responsible enough to do what he can to protect the public."I know what to do.Don't worry," he says."Jesus," Scarpetta says, ending the call and looking over at Marino."What in God's name is going on down there? You must have called Lucy last night.Did she tell you what's going on down there? I haven't seen her since September.I don't know what's going on.""An acid bomb?" He is sitting up straighter in his seat, always ready to pounce if anyone is after Lucy."A chemical-reaction bomb.The kind of bottle bombs we had trouble with out of Fairfax.Remember all those bombs in northern Virginia some years ago? A bunch of kids with too much time on their hands who thought it was funny blowing up mailboxes and a woman died?""Dammit," he says."Easily accessible and terribly dangerous.A pH of one or less, so acidic it's off the scale.It could have blown up in Lucy's face.I hope to God she wouldn't have pulled it out of the mailbox herself.I never know with her.""At her house?" Marino asks, getting angrier."The bomb was at that mansion of hers down in Florida?""What did she say to you last night?""I just told her about Frank Paulsson, what was going on up here.That was it.She said she'd take care of it.At that huge house of hers with all the cameras and shit? The bomb was at her house?""Come on," Scarpetta says, opening her car door."I'll tell you as we go in."38* * *Close to the window, the morning light warms the desk where Rudy sits typing on the computer.He hits keys and waits, then rapidly types and waits some more, pressing arrows and scrolling, searching the Internet for what he believes is there.Something is there.The psycho saw something that set him off.Rudy now knows the bomb isn't random.He's been at the training camp office for the past two hours doing nothing but maneuver through the Internet while one of the forensic scientists in the nearby private lab has scanned prints and partial prints into IAFIS, and already there is news.Rudy's nerves are screaming like one of Lucy's Ferraris in sixth gear.He dials the phone and tucks the receiver under his chin as he types and stares at the flat video screen."Hey Phil," he says."Big plastic cup with the Cat in the Hat on it.Big Gulp type of cup.Lid originally white.Yeah, yeah, the type of big cup you get in a convenience store, a gas station, and fill it up yourself.The Cat in the Hat, though.How unusual? Can we track it? No, I'm not kidding.That's a proprietary thing, right? But the movie, it's not recent.Last year, Christmastime, right? No, I didn't go see it and quit being funny.Seriously, what place would still have Cat in the Hat cups left after all this time? Worst case, he's had 'em for a while.But we gotta try.Yeah, we got prints on it.This guy's not even trying.I mean, he doesn't give a rat's ass about leaving his prints all the hell over the place.On the drawing he taped to the boss's door.Inside the bedroom where Henri was attacked.Now on a bomb.And now we got a hit in IAFIS.Yeah, can you believe it? No, don't have a name yet.Might not, either.The hit's on a latent-to latent search, matching up with partials from some other case.We're checking.That's all I've got right now."He hangs up and turns back to the computer.Lucy has more search engines in the Internet than Pratt & Whitney has jet turbines, but she has never worried that information on the World Wide Web might have to do with her.Not so long ago, she had no reason to worry.Special operatives don't usually court publicity unless they're inactive and hungry for Hollywood, but then Lucy got hooked into Hollywood, and then she got hooked into Henri, and then life changed dramatically and for the worse.Damn Henri, he thinks as he types.Damn her.Damn failed actress Henri who decided to be a cop.Damn Lucy for recruiting her.He starts a new search, typing in the key words "Kay Scarpetta" and "niece." Now this is interesting.He picks up a pencil and starts twirling it between his fingers like a baton as he reads an article that ran last September on the AP.It is a very short article and simply states that Virginia has appointed a new chief medical examiner, Dr.Joel Marcus from St.Louis, and it mentions his taking Scarpetta's place after years of limbo and chaos and so on.But Lucy's name appears in the brief article.Since leaving Virginia, the article says, Dr
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