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"Actually, he shot himself. I hadn't had the misfortune of meeting him, but I know a lot about him. He did some bad stuff." Dodge, feeling a rare urge to tell the truth, said, "I was in on his capture."
"Huh." He was subjected to another once-over. "You look like a cop. You got a gun?"
He turned his back to her and raised the hem of his jacket.
She harrumphed. "You're not supposed to have firearms in here."
"I must have missed that sign, too."
She tsked and shook her head as though he was a hopeless case, then returned her attention to the patient. "I can't see her boy's dying making much difference to her."
"How long has she been like this?"
"It came on gradual like, you know, the way it does. But she's been unresponsive for more than a year. Some of the sorry help in this place just ignore the poor little thing. Never talk to her. But I take good care of her, and we have our chats." She plucked a tissue from a box on the nightstand and used it to wipe a string of drool off Mrs. Starks's slack lips. "Don't we, sugar? You feel free to chime in now anytime you get a mind to."
"You're a saint, Glenda."
"You're full of shit."
"No, I mean it."
"So do I." But she was grinning.
He laughed. "Guilty."
"What are you doing here, Mr. Cop?"
"I don't know."
"You don't know?"
"No. And that's no shit." He looked thoughtfully at Mrs. Starks. "I guess I hoped she would enlighten me."
"Like how?"
"Like tell me something about Oren that would explain why he whacked out, killed a woman, a sixteen-year-old boy, and an old man, then wished another person dead with his dying breath."
"Lord o' mercy." The nurse shook her head again, causing the beads to clack together. "I'm sorry, sir, but she can't help you. Last few times that Oren came to see her, she didn't know him, didn't even know he was here."
Dodge asked how often Oren had visited his mother and when the last time had been.
"A while back," Glenda told him. "Several months, at least. Frankly ... and this is just between us, I wouldn't say it if this poor soul could understand."
"My lips are sealed."
She leaned toward him and spoke in a stage whisper. "I didn't like him."
"No one did. I didn't even know him, and I didn't like him."
"He wasn't right in the head, you ask me. Made you uncomfortable just to talk to him, you know?"
Dodge nodded.
"I was never happy to see him coming but was always glad to watch him go." Glenda's giant hand, with its surprisingly gentle touch, stroked her patient's arm. "Poor lady. I wouldn't wish her condition on anybody, but I'm kinda glad she doesn't know what her boy sunk to. After all that other sad business, she didn't deserve this."
Dodge's heart hitched, and the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. "Glenda, darlin'?"
"Hmm?"
