John Grisham - The Confession

“I’m fine,” he said. “Just need a good night’s sleep. Where are the boys?”

The boys were at the table eating ravioli. They jumped at their father as if he’d been gone for a month. Clay, the oldest, was dressed in his soccer uniform, ready for a game. After a long hug, the family sat down and finished dinner.

In the bedroom, Keith dressed after a quick shower as Dana sat on the bed and watched him. She was saying, “Not a word from anyone around here. I’ve talked to Matthew a few times. We’re watching the news and spending hours online. Your name has not been mentioned anywhere. A thousand photos, but no sign of you. The church thinks you were called away on some emergency, so no suspicions there. We might get lucky.”

“What’s the latest from Slone?”

“Not much. They postponed the football game tonight, and that was reported as urgently as a major plane crash.”

“No news from Missouri?”

“Not a word.”

“It’ll blow up soon enough. I can’t imagine the shock waves when they announce they have found the body of Nicole Yarber. The town will explode.”

“When will it happen?”

“I don’t know. I’m not sure what Robbie’s plans are.”

“Robbie? You sound like you’re old friends.”

“We are. I met him yesterday, but we have traveled a long way together.”

“I’m proud of you, Keith. What you did was crazy, but it was also courageous.”

“I don’t feel brave. I’m not sure what I feel right now. More shock than anything else. I think I’m still numb. It was a rather unique adventure, but we failed.”

“You tried.”

Keith pulled on a sweater, tucked in his shirttail, and said, “I just hope they catch Boyette. What if he finds another victim?”

“Come on, Keith, he’s a dying man.”

“But he left his cane behind, Dana. Can you explain that? I’ve been around the guy for five days—seems like a year—and he had trouble walking without the cane. Why would he leave it behind?”

“Maybe he thought he would be easier to spot with a cane.”

Keith pulled his belt tight and buckled it. “He was fixated on you, Dana. He mentioned you several times, something like, ‘That cute little wife of yours.’ ”

“I’m not worried about Travis Boyette. He’d be a fool to come back to Topeka.”

“He’s done dumber things. Look at all the arrests.”

“We need to go. The game is at 6:30.”

“I can’t wait. I need something to distract me. Do we have a bottle of Communion wine around here?”

“I think so.”

“Good. I need a drink. Let’s go watch a little soccer, then we’ll spend the rest of the night debriefing.”

“I want to hear everything.”

CHAPTER 33

The meeting was arranged by Judge Elias Henry, and while he did not have the authority to order people around on a Friday night, his powers of persuasion were more than enough. Paul Koffee and Drew Kerber arrived in the judge’s chambers promptly at 8:00 p.m. Joe Radford followed them in, and the three sat together on one side of the judge’s worktable. Robbie had been there for thirty minutes, along with Carlos, and the atmosphere was already toxic. There were no greetings, no handshakes, no pleasantries. A moment later Mayor Rooney arrived and sat by himself, away from the table.

Judge Henry, as always in a dark suit, white shirt, and orange tie, began solemnly. “Everyone is here. Mr. Flak has some information.”

Robbie was seated directly across from Kerber, Koffee, and Radford, all three still and subdued as if waiting for a death sentence. Robbie started by saying, “We left Slone this morning around five and drove to Newton County, Missouri. Travis Boyette was with us. The trip took just under six hours. With Boyette giving directions, we worked our way through a remote section of the county, along back roads, then dirt trails, then to a place known locally as Roop’s Mountain. Secluded, remote, overgrown. Boyette struggled to remember it at times, but eventually led us to the place where he claims he buried Nicole Yarber.” Robbie nodded at Carlos, who punched a key on his laptop. At the far end of the room, on a whiteboard, a photo of the overgrown clearing appeared. Robbie continued, “We found the site and began to dig.” The next photo was of Aaron Rey and Fred Pryor with shovels. “When Boyette was here in Slone in the fall of 1998, he worked for a company called R. S. McGuire and Sons out of Fort Smith. He kept a large metal box, one that was once used for hydraulic tools, in the back of his truck, and he used it to bury her.” Next photo: the top of the orange toolbox. “The soil was not hard, and within ten, maybe fifteen minutes we found this.” Next photo: the top half of the toolbox with “R. S. McGuire and Sons” stenciled on it. “As you can see, the toolbox opened from the top with a latch to the side. The latch was secured by a combination lock, which Boyette claimed he bought at a hardware store in Springdale, Arkansas. Boyette remembered the combination and unlocked it.” Next photo: Boyette kneeling at the grave, handling the lock. The color drained from Koffee’s face, and Kerber had perspiration on his forehead. “When we opened the box, this is what we found.” Next photo: the skeleton. “Before we opened it, Boyette told us there would be a wad of clothing next to her head.” Next photo: the clothing next to the skull. “He also told us that rolled up in the clothing we would find Nicole’s driver’s license and a credit card. He was right.” Next photo: a close-up of the MasterCard, also stained but with her name easily readable. “Boyette told us he killed her by choking her with her black leather belt with a silver buckle.” Next photo: a length of black leather, partially decomposed, but with the silver buckle. “I have a complete set of these photos for you boys to take home and look at all night. At this point, we called the sheriff of Newton County and surrendered the site.” Next photo: the sheriff and three of his deputies gawking at the skeletal remains. “The site was soon crawling with police and investigators, and the decision was made to leave her remains in the box and take it to the satellite crime lab there in Joplin. That’s where it is now. I gave the authorities a copy of Nicole’s dental X-rays, a copy of the same set you boys inadvertently handed over when you were playing games with discovery before the trial. I have talked to the crime lab, and the case has priority. They expect to finish the preliminary identification tonight. We are expecting a phone call any moment. They will examine everything in the toolbox and hopefully find evidence for DNA testing. This is a long shot, but DNA is not crucial. It’s pretty clear who was buried in the box, and there’s no doubt who did the killing. Boyette has a lethal brain tumor—that’s one reason he came forward—and he’s subject to violent seizures. He collapsed at the site and was taken to a hospital in Joplin. Somehow, he managed to leave the hospital without being detected, and as of now no one knows where he is. He’s considered a suspect, but he was not under arrest when he disappeared.”

Robbie stared at Koffee and Kerber as he delivered his narrative, but they were unable to maintain eye contact. Koffee was pinching the bridge of his nose, while Kerber picked his cuticles. There were three identical black binders in the center of the table, and Robbie gently slid them over, one each for Koffee, Kerber, and Radford. Robbie continued, “In these, you each have a complete set of the photos, along with a few other goodies—Boyette’s arrest record here in Slone, which proves he was here at the time of the murder. In fact, you boys actually had him in jail at the same time Donté Drumm was locked up. There is also a copy of his extensive criminal record and history of incarcerations. His affidavit is included, but you don’t really need to read it. It’s a detailed account of the abduction, sexual assaults, murder, and burial; the same story you have no doubt seen a dozen times now on television. There’s also an affidavit signed yesterday by Joey Gamble in which he says he lied at the trial. Any questions?”