bed?”
“No,” I said. “I’m not sleeping much these days. Too many ghosts under the bed.”
“I understand,” he said. “Strictly speaking, I shouldn’t be talking to you at all, but I have a bombshell that could clear your name overnight.”
“Jesus, Garland, what is it?”
“I need to show it to you. You want me to come over now? Or would you rather wait till morning?”
“God, no. If you’ve got something new on Jess’s murder, please come now.”
“Okay. I’m calling from the car-I just left the morgue. I know you live somewhere in Sequoyah Hills, but that neighborhood is like a maze to me, especially at night. Can you stay on the line with me and talk me in?”
“Sure. Where are you now?”
“I’ve just gotten off Alcoa Highway, and I’m heading west on Kingston Pike. I’m almost to the light at Cherokee Boulevard.”
“Okay, turn left on Cherokee.” From there, I guided him through a series of turns past ivy-wrapped stone mansions and glassy contemporary boxes. I had to close my eyes to visualize the route; I’d driven it so many thousand times over the years, I’d long since ceased to pay attention to the street names or the landmarks. Finally I steered him onto my street. I looked out the front window and said, “Okay, I see your headlights. I’m hanging up now; I’ll flash the porch light for you.” I did, and a moment later I heard the thunk of his Tahoe’s door closing.
I met him at the door and pumped his hand. “Thank you for coming,” I said. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it. Come in, sit down, and for God’s sake tell me what you’ve got.”
“Hang on a second,” he said. “You know it would get me in a lot of trouble with the district attorney if he knew I was here?” I nodded. “You didn’t tell anybody I was coming, did you?”
“No, how could I? I was on the phone with you until thirty seconds ago.”
“What about that telephone message? You better erase that, just to be on the safe side. The police could come back with another search warrant.”
“Really? I would never have thought of that.” I walked to the answering machine and deleted the last message. “I’d make a lousy criminal.”
He laughed at that. “Yes, you would, Bill. Indeed you would.”
“So tell me. What is it? What have you got?”
“I think you’d better sit down,” he said. “This is going to blow you away.” I sat. “What would you say if I told you I had the gun that killed Jess?”
I was sitting perfectly still, but my mind was racing. “I would say…that’s amazing,” I said. “Where was it? Who found it? Have the police already done the ballistic tests? Were there fingerprints on it?”
“There are fingerprints,” he said.
“Have the police run them yet? Is there a match?”
“They haven’t had a chance. But I can promise you they’ll find a match in the system.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because the prints will be yours.”
I stared at him, trying to follow, but failing. “I don’t understand.”
“No. But you will.” He reached behind his back and produced a small handgun, which he pointed at my chest. “This is the murder weapon,” he said. “I shot Jess with it. Now I’m going to shoot you with it. Not quite the end I had in mind for you-I was so enjoying the thought of you spending time in prison with killers and rapists you helped send there. But your lawyer and his video expert have seriously lowered the odds of getting you convicted. So I think it’s safer to go with Plan B.”
Suddenly the puzzle pieces fell into place, and I felt stupid for not having suspected Garland Hamilton-tall, strong Garland Hamilton. The one person whose work and whose woes involved both Jess and me. He knew where the hospital surveillance cameras were placed, knew how to plant evidence on a corpse, knew my truck, knew my habits, knew my strengths well enough to turn them against me. Hell, he even knew where a spare key to the Body Farm was stashed at the Forensic Center. “You killed Jess and framed me for her murder? Why? Out of spite?”
“Oh, ‘spite’ doesn’t begin to do it justice,” he said. “Something like ‘implacable hatred’ or ‘blackhearted vengeance’ would be much closer to the mark. Was it Hamlet who said, ‘Revenge is a dish best served cold’? I’ve been letting this chill for months. You have no idea how humiliating I found it to be made a fool by you over the Ledbetter autopsy. Not once, but twice: first in court, and then before a board of medical examiners-my professional peers.”
“But they didn’t take your license,” I said. “What harm did that do you? You got your job back.”
“Only temporarily,” he said. “The board made that clear when they called to impose my punishment. The governor himself told the commissioner of health to ease me out. And I’ll never get my reputation back. It’s ruined. You ruined it.”
“I can see why you might hold a grudge against me,” I said slowly, “but why Jess?”
When he smiled, I felt icy fingers clutching my soul. “Why Jess? So many reasons why Jess.” He cocked his head. “Did you know she was about to be made state medical examiner?” I shook my head. “All the MEs in Tennessee are about to be rolled into a statewide organization, and the beautiful, brainy Dr. Carter had been tapped to head that organization. So six months from now, I would have been out, and Jess would be in. Farther in than I had ever been. I’m surprised you didn’t know.”
“It wasn’t my business,” I said. “She’d have had no reason to tell me.”
“Then she probably also didn’t tell you that she and I had a fleeting romance once.”
“You? When?” The thought of it turned my stomach.
“A year or so ago. Right after she and her husband separated. She made it clear afterward that I was just a revenge fuck. I never forgave her for that. But she did have a gorgeous body, didn’t she, our Jess?”
I made a lunge at him; he struck me with the pistol, then kneed me in the groin. I sank back into the chair.
“But you want to know the third reason, the main reason, why I killed Jess?”
“Yes. Why?”
“You.”
“Me?”
“You. You were falling in love with Jess; she was falling in love with you. That made her your Achilles’ heel, your most vulnerable spot. I followed you to her house that night in Chattanooga. Being out of a job at the moment, I had plenty of time to keep tabs on you. I saw you spring up the stairs to her house like a teenager going on a date; I saw her come to the door and welcome you in; Christ, I even heard the two of you moaning up there in her bedroom. It took every ounce of willpower I had not to walk in and shoot you both in her bed. But I kept my eyes on the prize.”
“And what prize was that, Garland?”
“Making you suffer.”
“Well, you’ve certainly done that,” I said. “But if you kill me, too, the police will match the bullet to the one that killed Jess. They’ll know that whoever murdered me also murdered Jess.”
He laughed and shook his head. “As you said, you’d make a lousy criminal, Bill. You’re not going to be murdered; you’re going to die by your own hand. Tragic, really: Bill Brockton, driven to suicide by his guilt over murdering Dr. Carter, his despair over losing his reputation, his fear of going to prison and getting manhandled by some of his old friends.”
“Go to hell,” I said. “I will never commit suicide.”
“Call it assisted suicide, then,” he said. “The criminalists will find your prints, and only your prints, on the gun. The autopsy-
The sight of him disgusted me, and I looked away. And when I did, I saw a glimmer of hope. It was the tiny green diode on my cellphone, the one that blinked every few seconds during a call.
