Дэвид Балдаччи - The Guilty

Taggert nodded. “The condition of the internal organs showed that it was a really powerful compound. She said the person would have been dead in minutes.”

“Without ever waking up?” said Robie. “Even when he felt the sting of the syringe?”

“Doc said it was possible the poison would have incapacitated him right from the get-go. He might have thrashed around a bit when the needle stuck him but he probably wouldn’t have been able to defend himself.”

“Have we found out anything else about this Jane Smith person?” asked Reel.

“Workin’ on it,” said Taggert. “It’s not easy, though. Patient confidentiality. We had to apply for a court order. It’ll take some time.”

“I’m not sure how much time we have left,” said Robie.

“Meanin’ you think this person will kill again?” said Monda.

“Well, he’s killed four people already, and if the FBI is right and our murderer and his serial killer are one and the same, then the body count is actually a lot higher.”

“But how can that really be the case, Robie?” said Taggert. “That would be a helluva coincidence.”

“Coincidences are often in the eye of the beholder,” retorted Robie.

Taggert looked at him as though she had no idea what that meant.

He said, “The other murders were an older man and a younger woman. There was a pattern. And here we have Clancy and two younger women being killed.”

“But there were probably other reasons to kill Clancy,” said Reel. “And the Chisum girls as well. They might have been attempting to blackmail the killer.”

“They could well have served two purposes,” said Robie. “Fulfilling the patterns but having other motivations to kill them.”

“Whoever is doing this is seriously screwed in the head,” interjected Monda.

“Did you find anything else in Emmitt Barksdale’s house that could be helpful?” asked Robie.

“Not really. The killer presumably took his phone and/or his laptop because there might have been incriminating items on there.”

“Did you dig up any family or friends who’d had contact with him?”

“Not yet. He really didn’t seem to have anyone like that. And the neighbors saw and heard exactly nothin’. Whoever did this was pretty stealthy. And it might’ve been quite late at night, since Barksdale was already in bed.”

“Anything on where his parents might be?”

“No,” said Taggert. “We’re makin’ inquiries. But they’ve been gone from Cantrell for over twenty years. No tellin’ where they are, if they’re even still alive.”

“Do you remember when they left?” asked Robie.

“Not the exact day, no. It was like they were here one minute and gone the next. I remember not seein’ Laura or Emmitt for a long time. It was like they just stopped comin’ into town.”

“I know Laura wanted to leave Cantrell and do something with her life.”

“You mean leave with you?” asked Taggert, eyeing him closely.

“Why do you say that?” asked Robie suspiciously.

“Small town, Robie. Hard to keep things secret. You and Laura were in love, everybody knew that. And then you up and leave and she’s still here. Somethin’ was off.”

“Maybe things just didn’t work out,” he said tersely.

“So she didn’t go with you and now maybe she’s sittin’ in a mental institution. I think she might have made the wrong choice.”

“That wasn’t Robie’s fault,” said Reel.

“Not sayin’ it was,” replied Taggert. “Everybody needs to take responsibility for their own life and live with the choices they make.”

“You sound like you speak from experience,” said Reel.

“Hon, you live long enough, we all damn well speak from experience.”

The day of Billy Faulconer’s funeral was so hot that the flowers drooped precipitously, right along with the people. Many turned out for the graveside service, both blacks and whites.

As Robie surveyed the crowd, he wasn’t sure why this was, until he saw that many of the whites were young people. And then he saw Little Bill Faulconer smack in their midst accepting their collective condolences.

Maybe there was hope, Robie thought.

Toni Moses came up to him before the service.

“Sad thing when someone dies this young,” she said.

“Noboby is guaranteed a tomorrow,” said Robie.

And don’t I know that , he thought.

“I don’t see the esteemed county prosecutor,” he observed.

“He’s probably home lickin’ his wounds. He sees the case against your daddy evaporatin’ right before his eyes. And that means he can kiss his political career good-bye. And the winners on that score are everybody ’cept Aubrey Davis.”

Robie had volunteered to be one of the pallbearers, and it was depressingly easy — even with his bad arm — to lift the coffin containing the remains of his old friend, who had once loomed so large on the gridiron.

He glanced at Reel as he walked past bearing the coffin. They exchanged a telling look that might have been interpreted as:

When our time comes, will we even get a funeral?

A black minister spoke, and then Angie and Little Bill said a few words.

The coffin was lowered into the dirt and folks started drifting away.

That was the way it was, the burial ritual. You set them in the earth and walked away to keep living, until it was your turn to be left behind.

Dr. Holloway was waiting for Robie at the line of cars parked along the quiet interior street of the cemetery.

“It was a nice service,” said Holloway.

“Yeah,” said Robie. “As nice as it can be, considering the purpose.”

“Will you be stayin’ on much longer here?”

“Unfinished business.”

“Clancy and the Chisum girls?”

Robie nodded as Reel joined them.

“Anythin’ I can do to help?” asked Holloway.

Robie was surprised by this but said, “Not unless you have a miracle or two up your sleeve.”

Holloway smiled weakly. “I don’t think that I do, sorry.”

Robie stared at him for a few moments and then decided it was worth a shot. Holloway was an educated man. “Does ‘L 18’ or ‘Calvin’ or ‘ROH’ mean anything to you?”

Holloway frowned. “Not ‘Calvin’ or ‘ROH.’ But ‘L 18’? In what context?”

“That’s the problem. We don’t know,” said Reel.

Holloway thought about it for a few moments. “Well, it’s not normally referred to in such a shorthand way, but if the context, for instance, is religious it might mean Leviticus chapter eighteen.”

Both Robie and Reel tensed. He said, “Leviticus — you mean from the Bible?”

“The Hebrew Bible, yes.”

“Do you know what it refers to?” asked Reel. “My biblical knowledge is a little rusty.”

“To the commands given to Moses on Mount Sinai.”

“Regarding what, exactly?”

“Well, the Holiness Code. It lists certain sexual activities that are considered unclean and therefore prohibited. Verse twenty-two of the chapter has caused all the controversy regardin’ homosexuality, you know, that man shall not lie with mankind as with womankind.”

“You don’t happen to have a Bible with you, do you?” asked Robie.

“I have one in my car. You’re welcome to it.”

They went to Holloway’s car, and he gave them the copy of his Bible.

“I’ll bring it back to you,” promised Robie.

“No, keep it. I try to give them out to people as often as I can. I consider it a way of payin’ it forward. I don’t agree with everythin’ in there. I mean we must all come into the twenty-first century. But just the golden rule and its progeny would certainly make the world a better place if more widely followed.”