“How are you doing, my son?”
I jumped at the sound of Reverend Brawley’s voice. Normally the man boomed, projecting across wide open space to his congregation, but now he spoke in hushed tones, so he didn’t draw any more attention than he was already receiving.
All eyes in the emergency department waiting room were on us. His navy-blue suit, white shirt, light-blue tie, and silver cross tie tack stood out in the sea of jeans, overalls, and T-shirts. His uniform announced his role. Perhaps the other people waiting thought he was delivering bad news. Perhaps, I realized with a start, he was.
“Have you heard…?”
The minister gestured at the empty chair beside me. “May I sit with you?”
Once the man settled beside me, I asked, “Do you know anything? They keep telling me a doctor will come talk to me, but no one’s told me anything.”
“They have to attend to the sick before the well. Don’t fret, though, because I asked before coming over to see you. He’s had a heart attack, a major one from the looks of it.”
I tugged at my shirt. “Is he going to live?”
“Unfortunately, though I pray every day, I’m not privy to all His plans. We can only pray for C.J.’s recovery.”
I shifted in the plastic waiting room chair, my butt numb from hours of sitting. Since arriving, I had stood only to ask the nurse at the desk for information. She patiently explained each time that she didn’t know, that the doctor would come out and talk as soon as possible. The longer I waited, the more my panic grew. The words came out my mouth in a jumbled rush. “Seeing him lying on that floor at Abe’s… The look on the paramedics’ faces as they worked on him… The firefighters straining to lift him off the floor and onto the gurney… Their rush to get him into the ambulance… I…”
The reverend draped his arm over my shoulder. “I know the doctors and nurses here well. They’re excellent at their jobs.”
“But…” I couldn’t finish the sentence as the tears flowed. We sat like that for several minutes. The fear would have overwhelmed me without the comfort of his arm around me. With Jessica gone and Shelby in the nursing home, all but gone mentally, my life revolved around Wyatt, C.J., Belle, and breakfast at the Liars’ Table. Losing a piece of that was my greatest fear.
I didn’t know how long I cried, but when the tears finally slowed, I realized I had been babbling. The minister quietly listened until I was calm again. He nodded his head toward the glass doors of the emergency room entrance and the men from the Liars’ Table gathered outside on the sidewalk. “They all care for you, don’t they?”
They had followed the ambulance and had stayed throughout the day, going into the fresh air only for breaks. “Yes, they’re good friends.”
“And your grandson?”
“Wyatt took off work early when he heard. He stopped by for a few minutes and then went home to take care of Belle.” I looked around. “He should be back soon.”
“He’ll get comfort sitting with you.”
“Yes.”
“Even the sheriff cares about you. I saw him earlier asking about C.J., though he’s got a busy day going.”
I sat up straight. The sheriff. The murder. The money. In the panic over C.J., I had forgotten everything.
The reverend shifted in his seat. “Do you think the man who was murdered might have anything to do with what we discussed last night?”
“I…”
“I ask because the sheriff thinks there is a connection, though he’s confused what it might be. The dead man is quite well known to police over in Tennessee. They suspect he is a moneyman, a collector of sorts, who might have tens of thousands of dollars on him at any moment.”
“Really?” I tried to act shocked and clueless, but my voice didn’t sound genuine to me.
“Our good sheriff thinks it’s possible it was a robbery gone bad.”
I felt my chest tighten. The air in the room grew thick.
The reverend didn’t seem to notice my discomfort. “But, see, that’s where the sheriff is confused. If the money that ‘appeared’ in the church donation booth”—the minister indicated quotes with his fingers—“was stolen from him, how come it showed up before the man was killed?”
My mind grasped for any possible explanation that wouldn’t sound insane spoken aloud. Nothing came to me. “That means it can’t be connected, right?”
“Maybe not.” Brawley leaned back in his chair, squinting. “But until the sheriff can get comfortable that there’s no connection, you can see he would be reluctant to release the money. And I would be reluctant to ask for it.”
I swallowed hard.
Brawley leaned forward and shifted gears. “I saw Shelby this morning.”
“You did?” I sat up, startled. “I mean, I appreciate you visiting her.”
“I do the Tuesday morning chapel service for the residents. We ministers rotate the days. I enjoy it.” Brawley looked around the room. “Attendance was down, though. Seems I had a little competition for the residents’ attention.”
My mind was still grappling with the reality that we weren’t going to have the money for Rudy. We were already late, so I couldn’t see any good outcome. I tried to stay in the conversation. “Competition?”
“The nursing home was blessed with a donation from a consignment company down in Asheville. Got some new TVs and computers. Used but new to them.”
I swallowed hard.
“Sadly, many patients prefer to watch game shows rather than come to chapel.” Brawley shrugged. “I guess it’s good. They need the entertainment. And it is wonderful such generous people want to help our community, though I admit to some confusion.”
“Confusion?”
“I’m careful about suggesting something may not be quite on the up and up, but the man who made the donation is not known for such generosity. His track record of donations tends more along the line of items of limited monetary value. In fact, shall we say, they are worth less than the cost of disposing of them in a landfill. Thus, the benefit to him is that the items are out of his hair. But TVs and computers aren’t really the same thing. He could have made some money off them and isn’t the type to normally pass up such an opportunity.”
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.
“The administrators aren’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth, but I find it quite the change in heart.”
I stammered, “T-t-that’s good, right?”
“Perhaps.” Brawley studied me carefully, his eyes twitching. “I just want you to know, if you need some help, I’m here.”
He was right. I was drowning in trouble. We were dealing with evil people, and I didn’t know how to make them go away. When I tried to do the right thing, things got worse. My best friend was sick, maybe dying. Wyatt was in real danger. This wasn’t going to end well. I needed the help. Telling the truth seemed the only remaining option. I started my confession, “I—”
“Mr. Webb?” A thin man in blue scrubs approached us from the double doors leading back into the bowels of the emergency room. He nodded at the minister. “Good morning, Reverend.”
“Good morning, Dr. Queen. Do you have news on Cody Joe Duncan?”
The doctor hesitated and tilted his head toward me. “Are you Mr. Duncan’s next of kin?”
Brawley smiled kindly at me and once more extended his arm over my shoulders. “Mr. Duncan’s wife passed away a few years ago. Mr. Webb here is his best friend, the closest thing he has to kin.”
The doctor hesitated. “Children? Siblings?”
“No kids. Had a brother who passed away. No one else I’m aware of. How about you, Purvis?”
I shook my head, fear gripping my body as I waited on the news.
The doctor nodded and leaned forward. “Mr. Webb, we did everything we could. I’m so sorry.”