Monday
Jim finished his lunch then turned his attention to Ginny.
“The bruises are beginning to fade. You have yellow and green now, instead of purple and red.” His fingers gently explored the edges of the wounds. “The abrasions are healing well, no evidence of infection. The stitches can come out before we discharge you tomorrow. You’ll need your second rabies shot before you go, too.”
Ginny nodded.
“You’ll need to continue the breathing treatments at home. I can help with that.”
Ginny had to hope so. The cracked ribs were still sore enough to interfere with sleeping, not to mention the deep breathing exercises.
He pulled his gloves off and washed his hands, then came over and brushed a wisp of hair back from her face, smiling. “And sleep, lots of sleep.”
They heard a tap on the door.
“Come in,” Ginny said.
The visitor turned out to be Detective Tran. She came in and smiled at Jim, then approached Ginny.
“I have news.”
“First, the local police report on the rape that took place in Virginia indicates the accused was not Professor Craig. It was another man.”
Ginny frowned to herself. Hal had made that up, to implicate Jim, and she had believed him.
“Second, a search of Mr. Williams’ house showed traces of the virus in a freezer kept in a workshop behind the house. The DNA analysis matched the strain used in all three killings, and the lab confirms the same virus was on the lancet you found.”
Ginny saw Jim nod.
“Dr. Mackenzie told us where to look,” Detective Tran explained.
“Ah.”
“We also found a supply of potassium permanganate and glycerin. I expect we will find he purchased them recently and that the amount missing from those containers will approximate the amount used at the scene.”
This time it was Ginny who nodded.
“In addition, we found a recording device disguised as a pen and on it a recording of the Wednesday afternoon lecture he was supposed to be attending at the conference.”
Ginny blinked. “That’s what you were fishing for last Friday.”
“Yes. We were pretty sure he left the convention center, but no one seemed to have noticed. I was hoping you had.”
Ginny shook her head. “I’m sorry.”
“We located him on the surveillance cameras both in the basement of the library and on the street, in disguise, pretending to be a vagrant. Mrs. Campbell ran into him in the garage and thought she recognized him. She spoke to him, but he denied the acquaintance and she had to back down. When confronted with the images, however, she identified him without hesitation.”
“Oh, my!”
“We believe he made an appointment with Professor Craig using an alias.”
“To make sure Craig would be in his office that afternoon.”
Detective Tran nodded. “Using that device on him while they were in the stacks was taking a chance since they might have been seen. Dropping it, of course, was not part of the plan.”
“Third, the body shop reported they found evidence of someone breaking into the loaned vehicle, presumably to search it.”
“What kind of evidence?” Jim asked.
“There were tool marks on the weather stripping around the window.”
Ginny nodded. “Mark and I noticed that, but the car was still locked so we assumed someone had tried and failed to get in.”
Detective Tran met her gaze. “What we think happened is the person responsible introduced a long, thin rod and used it to trigger the interior door lock release.”
The corner of Jim’s mouth twitched. “So all he’d have to do is lock the doors again when he was finished and no one would be the wiser. Clever.”
Detective Tran raised a sardonic eyebrow. “He was lucky there was no car alarm on that model.” She turned to face Ginny.
“Fourth, we found a fingerprint inside your skate boot, faint, but useable. We think he may have been wearing gloves. It matched Mr. Williams’ left index finger.”
Ginny had resigned herself to this, but hearing it confirmed still made her feel cold. She wrapped her arms around herself.
The detective looked at her in sympathy. “I wanted to tell you myself.”
“Thank you.”
“Is Mr. Williams still with us?”
Jim nodded. “But he is no longer able to communicate or take much notice of anything. You can see him, if you want to.”
The detective nodded. “I will do so before I leave.”
“We have some news for you, too.”
“Oh?”
Ginny outlined what they had learned about the motive.
“A tontine. How interesting!”
“I’ll put you in touch with the man I spoke to today. He can give you more information.”
“Thank you. That will be very helpful.” She made a note in the small diary she carried with her then slipped it into her pocket. “We are investigating Mr. Williams’ movements and financial records. Once we have those, and with this information, we should be able to close the case. There may be further statements for you to sign.”
Ginny nodded. “Of course.”
Detective Tran held out her hand, first to Ginny, then to Jim. “I hope you will call upon me should you ever have need of my services again.”
Ginny smiled at her. “Thank you for all you’ve done for us. I feel very lucky to have fallen into your hands.” Ginny saw the detective’s lips twitch. She glanced over at Jim, then back at Ginny.
“I believe you are in very good hands,” she said. “Goodbye.”
When the detective had gone, Ginny turned to Jim.
“What did she mean by that?”
He smiled broadly. “She means I made a damned nuisance of myself on Saturday and it was a good thing I did. Otherwise there would have been no one there to Taser Hal.”
“You Tasered him?” Ginny stared at Jim.
“I didn’t. The police officer did. To make sure he didn’t spread that virus any farther than he already had.”
Ginny felt her stomach tighten. “Of course.”
Jim’s smile faded. “I think I’ll go check on him,” he said. “Do you need anything?”
Ginny shook her head. Their eyes met, then he turned and left. She watched the door close slowly behind him.
* * *
Jim stood just inside the door of Hal’s room and watched the unconscious man struggle to breathe. Life was tenacious, especially in the young.
He was having trouble sorting out how he felt about this. He was glad he wasn’t going to die and their best guess was his body had cleared the virus completely so he wouldn’t have to live under the threat of its recurrence for the rest of his life. He’d stay up on the rabies vaccinations, though, just in case.
He was glad Ginny would recover, physically at least. Emotionally? How hard was it going to be for her to trust another man? Hal had been so very plausible. If he’d had a gift, that was it. A consummate salesman.
And Hal himself? Jim’s mind wandered back to those carefree college days. Well, he’d been swotting, of course, trying to get into medical school, but they’d had some good times too. He remembered how they had all looked out on the water in sailing school. Half the fun had been falling in. They’d been roommates for a year, until Jim decided he needed fewer distractions. But there had been times Jim had envied Hal his zest for life.
The door opened behind him and Chaplain Wallace slipped in. He nodded to Jim, then moved over to the bedside. He looked for a moment at the mortal remains of a man lost to humanity, then opened his prayer book. Jim listened as he read from the text.
“We do not know the number of our days. Therefore, man, prepare for death each day, that you may find eternal peace.” There was a pause while the chaplain turned over a page.
“Heavenly Father, you formed me from the dust in your image and likeness, and redeemed me from sin and death, but I have squandered the inheritance of your saints, and have wandered far in a land that is waste.”
Jim watched the chaplain slide a finger down the page, looking for another passage. Hal had slipped into unconsciousness without confession or remorse or repentance, except for what he had said to Ginny. The phrases asking for forgiveness did not apply.
“You, O Lord, you only are immortal, the creator and maker of mankind; and we are mortal, formed of the earth, and to earth shall we return. For so did you ordain when you created me, saying, ‘You are dust, and to dust you shall return.’”
Two pages this time.
“Most merciful God, whose wisdom is beyond our understanding, deal graciously with those left behind by this man, whose misuse of thy divine gift of free will has left them in grief. Surround them with your love, that they may not be overwhelmed by their loss, but have confidence in your goodness, and strength to meet the days to come. Amen.”
Amen. Jim echoed the plea. For Ginny, in particular.
Chaplain Wallace stood for a moment longer, silent, at the dying man’s side, then turned, nodded to Jim and let himself out of the room.
Jim watched the monitor above the bed, seeing the electrical signature of the dying nerves that controlled Hal’s heart. He was unconscious already. Was he in pain? Oxygen starvation caused cells to die. Dying cells cried out for life, they sent out chemicals like alarm bells, pain was a signal to do something, anything, to reverse the damage. Jim swallowed hard, then moved out to the nurse’s station. He pulled up the chart and added a potent painkiller to the orders already in place.
He rose and turned, catching sight of his face reflected in the window behind the desk, his expression hard as stone. He didn’t want Ginny to see that.
There was a garden on the side of the building. It still held blossoms left over from the summer, and the beginnings of color where the autumn air touched the deciduous trees. Jim sat on a bench and stared at the earth.
Birth, life, death, then rebirth, the cycle of life. As long as there was earth, life should begin again. But not the same life. New life, different life.
He wept in silent grief for the lives lost, never to come again; for his parents, killed by another misuse of free will. For the families of the three murdered men, for Ginny, and for himself. For all of the patients he had been unable to save. For the hopeless who killed themselves, for the mentally ill who could not be persuaded to stay off the street, for the spouses and parents and siblings and friends of the dead and dying. So many grieving people in a hospital. So very many.
Eventually, the pain eased and he sat quietly, no longer thinking, just sitting. The evening fell around him and with it came the night air, cool and sweet. When the gloaming faded and the artificial lights came on, he rose and made his way back inside.
* * *
For Ginny, the day wore on into evening, punctuated by breathing treatments, medications, and another hospital food meal, which she left mostly untouched. Her sprained ankle lay elevated on a pillow and she had to move slowly to make sure the broken ribs didn’t poke holes in her side, but her head was better.
They had already passed the autumn equinox and were approaching Samhain. The nights were falling sooner and lasting longer and it was full dark outside her window when the door opened and Jim slipped into the room.
“Hello,” he said. “How are you feeling?”
She closed her book and set it aside, ignoring his question.
“Is it over?”
“Yes.”
Ginny couldn’t help feeling a chill around her heart. Her hand closed around the talisman. “Is there going to be a funeral?”
“No. He said he wanted no ceremony. His body will be cremated and the ashes buried privately.”
He had no family; was survived by no one. Except her. Ginny told herself it didn’t matter. God knew where he was, and what.
“There ought to be a marker, at least.” Something, somewhere, to show that a man had been born and lived and died.
“There will be.” Jim crossed the room and leaned on the bed rail, looking down at her.
Her lower lip trembled and she brought her hands up to conceal it. He reached out and brushed her cheek with his fingertip, his eyes full of concern.
She blinked and found her own eyes swimming. She tried to stem the tears, but it was no use. Her grief overflowed and she could not stop it.
He let down the side rail, then slid one arm around behind her and the other under her knees. He picked her up, carried her across the room, and settled down in the recliner with her on his lap, then wrapped his arms around her and held her while she cried her heart out.
Ginny hadn’t expected it to hurt like this. She clung to Jim, hiding her face from him, trying not to make a fool of herself. He hugged her and murmured to her, telling her it was okay to grieve, that she had a right to feel bad about a wasted life, a shattered dream. He pulled tissues from his pocket as if by magic, and dabbed at the tears, holding her while the racking sobs ran their course, then eased, then faded away.
The effort left her drained. She leaned against him, her eyes closed, and listened to the silence. Not silent, though. She could hear his heart beating through the muscle of his chest and the soft sound of his breathing, slow and steady and infinitely reassuring. She fit neatly into the curve of his arm, her head nestled against his shoulder. He sighed and she felt his chest expand under her.
He bent toward her. “It’s over, Ginny.”
Over. All except the weeping.
She sat very still, her heart numb, but her conscience still active. Eventually she took a deeper breath.
“I owe you an apology,” she said.
“What for?”
“For thinking you could be a murderer.”
“You had good reason.”
Maybe, but she’d been wrong about him.
“I almost got you killed.”
He tightened his arms around her. “I’m not going to die. Stop worrying about me.”
Not going to die.
“You think Hal would have killed me.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes.”
She lay on his heart in silence for several minutes, trying not to believe it. Eventually she stirred.
“How am I supposed to get past this?”
He took a deep breath. “With my help.”
She looked up at him and their eyes met.
“I will be here for you,” he said. “For as long as you need, whatever you need.”
That might be a tall order. The guilt stung like alcohol in an open wound.
If she had listened to him, or Andy, or Detective Tran, and left the investigation alone, how much of this misery could have been avoided?
She held Jim’s gaze for a moment longer, then nodded and settled down in his arms. They were good arms, strong and gentle. The man who would be Laird would need to be strong, and gentle. Brave, too, but he’d already proved he was that.
* * *