HE WAS WAITING FOR ME JUST OUTSIDE THE MAIN entrance.
“Joline’s sister is on her way to Hilton Head,” I said before he had a chance to speak. “She’ll be tested this afternoon. Red is setting it up. Don’t try to interfere, Doctor. Don’t go rushing to the hospital and throw your weight around. This is going to happen if I have to tie you to a tree.”
“You don’t understand a damn thing about it,” he said, but without rancor, in spite of his words. “I love them both. More than you’ll ever be able to comprehend. I’m doing what’s best for my family, and you’ve done nothing but make things worse.”
The softness of his tone took me aback. I’d been expecting a knock-down battle, a shouting match we might have to take into the parking lot. On the ride down in the elevator, after Joline had used my phone to contact her daughter, I’d even contemplated waving the Seecamp around if I thought it would keep him from meddling in my plans.
We stared at each other for a few moments, then were forced to move aside as a family group tried to edge around us and into the lobby. I walked a few steps away and sat down on a wooden bench. Seconds later, he joined me.
“Why?” I asked when he’d reluctantly taken the seat next to me. “Can you just explain to me why you’re so dead set against trying to save Kimmie’s life?”
“How far does your confidentiality extend?” More visitors streamed past us, and he leaned closer. “If you have information about a crime . . . If one of your clients tells you something incriminating . . .”
I had no idea where this was going, but I knew the answer to the question he was trying to avoid asking directly. “If I have reliable information that one of my clients has committed a crime—or intends to—I’m required by law to inform the authorities.”
“But you need proof, right? I mean, just because you hear something . . . What’s it called, hearsay? That’s not enough. You’d have to be certain before you reported it, right?”
“What are you trying to say, Doctor?”
I watched him struggle for words, saw the war going on behind his eyes. Whatever it was, he desperately wanted to tell me, but something held him back. And I desperately wanted to believe that there was some logical explanation for his strange behavior with his wife and stepdaughter. Over the years, I’ve become pretty cynical about the human race, rarely surprised at the depths to which some people can sink. Jerrold Eastman seemed like a decent man. He’d dedicated his life to caring for mothers and their babies. What terrible thing could have caused him to reject the last hope of saving Kimmie’s life? What—or who—could be more precious to him than she was? His reputation? His son? His wife?
A glimmering of an answer flickered. I fanned the tiny spark, breathing life into an explanation I wanted to run screaming from. Joline was my client. She was entitled to my confidentiality. Why had Jerry asked about that? What could she have done that would scare her husband so much he was willing to sacrifice Kimmie in order to protect her?
“Let’s walk,” I said, jumping to my feet. I could think better on the move, and the idea that had taken root in my mind needed space.
Jerry Eastman fell into step beside me without a word. We followed the walkway around the huge building, and gradually we found ourselves alone. I slowed my pace. I spoke softly, without looking at my companion.
“What’s this really about, Doctor?”
“You have to answer my question first. I have to know you won’t go to the police.”
I shook my head. “I can’t guarantee that.” I stopped and laid a hand on his arm. “Your wife hired me to help save Kimmie. I’ve grown to admire your stepdaughter, and Joline is my client. If what you have to say could hurt them, and I can prevent that, I’ll do my best to keep your secrets. That’s as much as I can promise. You’ll just have to trust me. Or not.”
He began walking again, and I hurried to catch up. My mind was racing with all the possibilities. Was it about Joline’s accident? Kimmie’s illness? How far off base had I been with my wild speculation about the girl’s conception? Was Joline telling the truth about her vanished lover? There was something there, just out of reach . . . some twist that I hadn’t seen, some buried piece of—
I stopped dead on the sidewalk, and it took the doctor a moment to notice I wasn’t beside him. He turned and started back toward me, the realization suddenly on his face.
“You know,” he said.
“Not for certain, but it makes sense.” I looked him squarely in the eye. “Joline killed Deshawn Mitchell.”
He opened his mouth to speak, and I held up my hand.
“Wait! Don’t say anything.”
We began walking again. My mind sifted through all the bits and pieces I knew about Joline Mitchell Eastman. And the partial skeleton with evidence of gunshot wounds, the cold case that Red had run across in his search for Joline’s sisters, and the story of Joline’s runaway lover. Patience Brawley had lied to the sheriff. Her missing nephew had never come home. The family knew what had happened. Or guessed. They’d kept the secret, but it had split them in two. Who else knew? I asked myself. Contessa and Maeline, who had distanced themselves from their family and never looked back? Their father who had disappeared around the same time? Maybe he’d helped her. So who was Jerry afraid of? Everyone had kept silent all these years. Even Deshawn’s mother, wherever she might be. Why would Jerry think they might hurt Joline now? Still, he obviously knew as well as I did that there was no statute of limitations on murder.
“Such a thing could have been a crime of passion,” I said, testing the waters. “Or self-defense.”
I glanced up, but Jerrold Eastman’s face remained passive.
A moment later, he cleared his throat. “That would be a very believable scenario. And a young girl, driven to desperation by love and fear, might suppress all memory of what she’d done.” He stopped and looked down at me. “Except in her nightmares.”
“Which her husband would be privy to.”
“Yes. He would urge her to seek help, even if she continually denied any involvement in the . . . incident. And when she refused, he would then do everything in his power to protect her. No matter what the cost.”
I turned away from the naked pain in his eyes. He’d been faced with a terrible choice, one that might well have destroyed a weaker man. I spoke without looking at him.
“You were terrified that those of Joline’s family members who knew what she’d done might inadvertently or even intentionally expose her. You couldn’t take that chance. You had to choose.”
He made no move to wipe the tears away. I resisted the urge to offer comfort, an intimacy I knew he’d reject. Instead, I turned around and led him back toward the parking lot.
“I’m sorry,” I said softly. “I truly am. But even if Joline has repressed her memory of killing Deshawn, I’m as certain as I can be that she’d be willing to face the consequences if it would save Kimmie.” When he didn’t reply, I said, “In your heart, you know that’s true.”
I heard the anguish in his voice. “But I’m not willing. Don’t you see? She won’t survive it. And the chances of any of them being a compatible donor are so small, it isn’t worth the risk.”
“It is to her,” I said. “And, in the last analysis, it’s not our decision to make.”
We stopped at the entrance to the hospital. “What are you going to do?” he asked, all the bravado and assurance gone from his voice.
“I don’t know.” I found I could no longer look him squarely in the eye. “Joline’s sister will be here in the early afternoon. What are you going to do?”
He looked broken, his shoulders slumped in resignation. “You haven’t left me much choice. I’ll do whatever I can to expedite the bone marrow test. And pray Joline won’t live to regret my decision. Or yours.”
The earlier sunshine had been displaced by lowering clouds when I pulled into the parking lot of the agency a little before noon. Erik’s Expedition was nowhere to be seen. I had just pushed open the Jag’s door when Red suddenly appeared beside the car.
I smiled. “Since when do I rate a welcoming comm—”
“Why didn’t you call? Why aren’t you answering your damn cell phone?”
I winced as he grabbed my left arm. “What’s the matter with you? I gave the prepaid to Joline so she could talk to Kimmie. Erik said he’d bring mine—”
“Get in the other side. I’ll drive.”
I had to jerk my arm out of his grasp to keep him from dragging me bodily out of the seat.
“Red, stop it!” For the first time I noticed the panic on his face. “What the hell is going on?”
“It’s the Judge,” he said, his voice dropping almost to a whisper. “Lavinia said to hurry.”