Greg Iles - Turning Angel

Drew’s been talking to a med school friend about practicing medicine in Boston. He said he already took the boards or whatever. He was saving that as a surprise, but I think he wanted to ease my worry about the future. He definitely loves me. He’s shown me so many times, in so many ways. If a baby comes, so be it. That child would be the two of us alive in the world as one, and how can that be bad?

With that the journal ends.

Less than twenty-four hours later, Kate Townsend was dead.

I close the book and drop it onto the floor beside my bed. I’m too tired to try to analyze what I’ve just read. I switch off the ringer on my phone, turn off my reading lamp, and roll onto my stomach. As sleep slowly takes me, one aspect of the journal remains at the forefront of my thoughts: Kate’s voracious sexuality. Seventeen years old, and already she was considering the risks and rewards of a ménage à trois with a stranger. More disturbing still, in light of the way she died, was Kate’s desire to be choked during sex. This opens up so many possibilities that I must wait until I’ve rested to consider them. But one thought refuses to leave me alone: it now seems less impossible than it did yesterday that Kate Townsend could have died at Drew’s hands.

Annie leans over the front seat of my car, kisses me, then climbs out and runs into the St. Stephen’s middle school. From habit, I wait until she disappears from my sight before driving on. It’s a primitive instinct, like the one that made Annie keep a hand in contact with me for over a year after her mother died, even while she slept.

As the line of cars moves slowly past the high school, Holden Smith steps from beneath the overhang and motions for me to pull over. When I do, he comes to the window with a big smile and tells me he’s scheduled an emergency board meeting to deal with the aftermath of our two student deaths. Yesterday he practically demanded my resignation along with Drew’s; today-with the Examiner offering up Cyrus White as a possible suspect-he’s saying the board was hasty in suggesting I resign. Holden sounds positive that Chris Vogel drowned because of Ecstasy or LSD. And while no one has fingered Marko Bakic as the source of those drugs, Holden seems quite prepared to expel our troublesome exchange student without any proof. I reiterate my intention to resign, but I also agree to appear at the meeting, primarily in order to gather the most information possible about the events surrounding Chris Vogel’s death. I feel Holden’s relief as he pumps my hand in farewell.

”Chickenshit,“ I mutter as he walks away.

I pull out onto Highway 61 and head into town. The first order of the day is getting the assault charge against Drew dismissed. As I pass the hospital, my cell phone rings. It’s Don Logan, chief of the Natchez Police Department.

”Are you getting your buddy out of jail this morning?“ he asks.

”I’m on my down there now.“

”Well, his situation has worsened a bit since last night.“

My pulse quickens; something serious has happened. ”How so?“

”This morning we searched the woods upstream from where we found the Townsend girl. We started at dawn, and we moved pretty fast along both banks. We had a little dispute with the sheriff’s department, but I won’t go into that now. The point for you is that when we reached the woods between Pinehaven and the creek, we found Kate’s cell phone.“

There’s a hitch in my breathing. ”And?“

”It’s one of those camera phones. She had some pictures stored inside it. One of those pictures shows Dr. Elliott asleep on a bed. In the nude.“

Even though I’m driving, I waver like a man losing his balance. ”Does the district attorney know about that picture?“

”Yes, sir. He does.“

While I work through the implications of this development, Chief Logan speaks again. ”Penn, between you and me, I’ve got a source over at the sheriff’s department. She tells me that Dr. Elliott is going to be arrested by a couple of deputies as soon as he leaves this building.“

Jesus. ”On what charge?“

”Sexual battery is what I heard. But I’m thinking murder.“

”If the D.A. wants Drew charged with another crime, why doesn’t he just have you charge him?“

There’s a long silence before Logan answers. ”The D.A. would tell you it’s because murder is a state crime, and a defendant accused of it has to be held in state custody. But if you ask me, it’s because Billy Byrd is a lot deeper in Shad Johnson’s pocket than I am or ever will be.“

This leaves me both angry and uncertain about what to do. ”Has Drew been scheduled for arraignment?“

”Eleven o’clock.“

”I may let him attend that proceeding after all. I’ll let you know well before then what I’m going to do.“

”I’d appreciate it. Things are getting mighty interesting down here.“

”Don, have you turned up anything on Cyrus White?“

”Nothing at all. It’s like he’s vanished off the face of the earth.“

”I’d say that makes him look more than a little guilty.“

”I agree. But maybe he’s just paranoid. Maybe he doesn’t believe Shad Johnson’s promises of fair treatment for blacks in the judicial system.“

”Was that humor, Don?“

”Don’t forget to call me.“

Chief Logan hangs up.

Even before I lay my phone on the seat, one certainty settles into my bones. Despite what I told Shad and Sheriff Byrd about Cyrus White last night, Drew is going to be charged with capital murder. It seems unbelievable, but worse has been done in this town in the name of politics. Another certainty quickly follows the first: Drew needs a real lawyer, not a former prosecutor-turned-novelist who’s too close to the case. He needs a top-flight defense attorney with years of experience, one with the credentials to neutralize the subliminal cards that Shad Johnson will bring to the table. That means a local attorney who is black and preferably female. Several black attorneys practice in Natchez, but the only one I know well practices civil law. I need a wise counselor to help me choose my candidate.

I slow down and make a U-turn, then head back south. My father’s office is less than a mile away. For forty years, he has treated more black patients than any white doctor in town, and he knows many of them like family. If anyone can tell me about the black lawyers in town, it’s my dad. I call ahead and ask for Esther Ford, his physician’s assistant. Esther has very little formal training, but after forty years of working at my father’s side she knows more about primary care medicine than many interns. When she comes on the line, I ask if Dad can spare me fifteen minutes. She laughs and simply hands the phone to him.

”What’s up, Penn?“ Dad asks in his resonant baritone.

”I need to see you for a minute. I’ve got an emergency.“

”A medical emergency?“

”No, but almost as bad.“

”Does it have to do with Drew Elliott?“

”How’d you know?“

”When I made rounds this morning, that’s all anybody was talking about in the doctors’ lounge.“

”What were they saying?“

”That Drew’s been screwing the Townsend girl. That she got pregnant, and he snapped and killed her.“

”Great.“

”I figure if any of that’s true, it’s the first part. The rest I can’t see. Drew Elliott is the best young doc I’ve seen in my career, and I’m not talking about technical skills. He cares about people. Any man can be led astray by his willie, but Drew Elliott committing murder? No way.“

”I wish more people felt that way.“

”People turn on you fast. It’s human nature.“