Дэвид Балдаччи - The Guilty

Robie nodded. “I guess it does,” he said quietly.

“But Angie Faulconer is very capable and was very aware of all that we were doin’. He received morphine and other painkillin’ medications daily through a port I had placed on his forearm. He received every medication and treatment that was possible under the circumstances to ensure that his sufferin’ was as limited as it could possibly be. Either I would travel there to administer them and also check on his condition, or she would. I instructed her precisely on how to do so. Billy’s condition was constantly monitored by a portable sensor system that he wore under his clothing, and that was read every two hours. And I would vary his pain medications based on that.”

“I didn’t know any of this.”

“Mr. Robie, he never suffered unduly. Everythin’ that could be done for him was done for him.”

“I guess just seeing him in that trailer with the oxygen tank. It just seemed that he was all alone.”

“Angie and I implored Billy to go into hospice. He either could have done it in a facility nearby, which I had located and made arrangements for, or else home hospice would have been provided by a local agency that I knew to be very good. I had filled out all the forms, and there was government money available. It wouldn’t have cost them anythin’, really. It was all ready to go.”

“Only Billy didn’t want to leave the Airstream?” said Robie quietly.

“Only Billy didn’t want to leave the Airstream,” Holloway repeated. “And who was I to question the wishes of a dyin’ man?”

Robie looked at the other man, contriteness in his features. “I’m sorry, Dr. Holloway. I obviously got this completely wrong and made a complete ass out of myself.”

“No, you were just lookin’ out for an old friend.”

“That’s very kind of you,” said Robie. “I’m not sure I deserve it, though.”

“I watched my father’s bigotry and hatred eventually destroy not only his marriage and his family but ultimately himself. From a very early age, I told myself I would never be like him. And I’m not.”

“Billy was lucky to have you as a doctor. And he’s in a better place now.”

“I truly believe that he is. My father went to church every Sunday and pretended to understand a God who had made it his life’s work to love and welcome all people. I too attend church every Sunday. I read my Bible every day. I worship a God that is truly color blind, as we all should be. But I don’t blame you for thinkin’ what you did. Lord knows there are racists aplenty, not just in Mississippi but everywhere. Fortunately, I am not one of them.”

The two men shook hands.

“Thank you,” said Robie.

Holloway pointed at the sling. “Have you attended to that?”

“Not yet. I have some unfinished business.”

Holloway nodded. “I’ll be at the funeral.”

“So will I,” said Robie. “So will I.”

When Robie returned to the Willows, he found Reel on the rear porch with his father and Victoria.

Dan Robie said, “Your partner here has been fillin’ us in. So Emmitt Barksdale’s dead?”

Robie took a seat, glancing momentarily at Victoria, before nodding at his father.

“We’re waiting on a positive ID, but it looks that way.”

Victoria said, “But why? Who would have wanted to kill him?”

“Don’t know. He was the guardian of a woman named Jane Smith. It might be connected to her.”

Dan said, “Guardian? What was the connection with Emmitt and this Smith person?”

“Again, we don’t know. It all just happened. We went to see her. She’s at the state mental institution in Lancet.”

“What’s wrong with her?” asked Victoria.

“Schizophrenia,” replied Reel. “And even with all the meds she’s on, she’s not really there. Like talking to a young child.”

Victoria looked at Dan and said, “I guess we should consider ourselves lucky. Even if Ty can’t talk, we know his mind is fine.”

Dan nodded and gripped her hand. “That’s right, hon. Ty is goin’ to be just fine.”

“So who will care for her now?” asked Victoria.

“That’s up in the air. Unless she has relatives, I guess she’ll become a ward of the state. She certainly can’t live on her own.”

“But do you think this is connected to what’s been happening in Cantrell?” asked Dan.

“Yes, I think it is,” answered Robie. “Only I can’t tell you how.”

“Yet,” amended Reel. “We’re working on it.”

“Where is Ty?” asked Robie.

“With Priscilla,” said Victoria.

Robie’s phone buzzed. It was Taggert.

He listened to what she said, clicked off, and rose. Then he looked at Reel. “We need to go.”

She stood, leaving Dan and Victoria staring up at them.

“Is someone else dead?” said Victoria fearfully.

“No, just a development.”

As they were walking through the foyer toward the front door Priscilla came down the hall carrying Tyler. The boy looked like he’d just gotten up.

“Nap time?” said Reel.

Priscilla nodded. “He likes his sleep, this one. He climbs in my bed here, and sometimes when we’re traveling with Ms. Victoria. I think he just wants warmth like a little bear cub, and I got me lots of that.” She laughed and smacked her broad hip with her free hand. “Like a Crock-Pot. Keep you stewin’ all night long.”

Tyler smiled and hugged her neck.

“Well, it certainly gives Victoria a break,” said Reel. “Little kids are a handful.”

“It does give me a break.”

They all turned to see Victoria standing there. “I really don’t know what I’d do without Priscilla.”

“You got kids, ma’am?” a smiling Priscilla asked Reel.

She hesitated. “I did. But not anymore.”

“I can understand that, honey,” said Priscilla, her smile gone.

Outside, Robie and Reel got in their car.

“So what’s up?” she asked.

“The coroner found a mark on the back of Barksdale’s neck commensurate with a needle stick. She thinks that’s how the poison was administered.”

“What else?”

“While the tox screens aren’t back yet, when she cut him open she found evidence of cyanide-type poisoning in the organs. That would tie in with the bloody froth she found in his mouth and upper trachea.”

Reel nodded. “So he was murdered, placed naked in a bathtub, and his penis was cut off.”

“With a cryptic message left on the back of a photo with two family members ripped out.”

“Father and daughter.”

Robie said, “Right. Henry and Laura Barksdale.”

“And the latter might be sitting in a mental institution thinking about a Big Mac and fries.”

“And the former?” said Robie.

“Who the hell knows? What about Henry Barksdale’s wife? It might have been a man and a woman who did this to Emmitt. His own parents maybe?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. If she’s even still alive. Or if he is.”

“And the connection to Sherman Clancy could come from what they did with those little kids. And the Chisum girls maybe found out from Clancy, like you said. And they had to die, too. I guess that all makes sense. Preserving the Barksdale honor.”

Robie nodded. “But if it is him, how do we find him? Or them? And stop another murder?”

They met with Taggert and Sheriff Monda at the police station. Taggert looked worn and depressed. Monda just looked angry, probably that something like this was happening in his town and he was pretty much powerless to stop it.

“Another one dead. Well, at least it wasn’t in Cantrell,” he said, with some relief in his voice.

“So, injection in the neck?” said Reel.