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“Not exactly, but….” He took a deep breath. “I’m not comfortable using my gift where Chris Reed is concerned.” He swallowed. “We know he’s dying. Using my gift in these circumstances feels—at least it does to me—as though it would be a gross invasion of privacy. Put it this way. I wouldn’t want someone insidemyhead if the roles were reversed.” He held his hands up. “I know by doing this I’m cutting off an avenue of investigation, but taking a step back is the more ethical thing to do.”
Gary’s gaze held nothing but compassion. “Then that’s what you should do.”
“You’re okay with that?” Except part of him had known Gary would support him, and it had nothing to do with the fact that they were in a—fledgling—relationship.
It had everything to do with the kind of man Gary was.
“Of course. So before we get in there…. You’re my coworker, okay? Ask whatever you like.”
“Thank you.” The tension that had crept across Dan’s shoulders on the way there had already begun to dissipate. He followed Gary to the entrance and stood back while Gary explained their visit. He’d informed the facility the previous evening as soon as Linda Sebring had finished her call.
The nurse—Rebecca, according to her name tag—checked her monitor. “Okay, what you both need to know is, Mr. Reed is on BiPAP. This is an assistive device that requires a mask, and it allows him to stay awake and speak. Right now he’s exhausted and in pain, but he’s insisting we hold off on his medication until he’s spoken with you.”
“But why?” Gary asked.
“It makes him sleep, too foggy to think straight. What Iwilltell you is this. Someone in his condition has to be damned determined to use whatever strength he has to participate in what sounds as if it’s going to be an emotionally and physically taxing conversation.” She looked Gary in the eye. “Whatever he has to tell you must be really important.” Rebecca pointed ahead of them. “Keep going that way. Mr. Reed’s room is right before you reach the garden. His wife will meet you.”
The hallways were quiet but for the music playing in the background, low and unobtrusive. Dan tried not to glimpse through open doorways, conscious of his heightened senses. He was aware of so many differing emotions assaulting him from all sides, some sharp enough to bring tears to his eyes. There was acceptance, resignation, but underlying it was a strong current of trepidation.
None of us knows what lies beyond.
Finally they reached Chris Reed’s room, to be greeted by his wife, Carla. Dan took her hand without thinking, and was ill-prepared for the jolt the contact gave to his senses. He couldn’t speak, his throat tight, his stomach clenched.
Life, why do you have to be such a fuckingbitchsometimes?
Carla regarded them, her expression neutral. “I guess Linda called you, right?” She inclined her head toward the door. “He knows you’re coming. I told him last night. I don’t think he slept much, and he’s been agitated all morning.” She hesitated. “I didn’t know, okay? I didn’t knowanyof this. He never said a word. And if I hadn’t listened when his buddy came over, I’dstillbe in the dark. All I know is he has to tell someone before… before it kills him.” She gave a sharp swallow. “I’m playing dumb. All he told me was he had to speak to the police. Didn’t say why. And when I called Linda, she didn’t hesitate. She said you were the ones he needed to see.”
Before either of them could get a word out, she pushed the door open and led them into the pale lemon room, dominated by a single bed with monitors on both sides, the air filled with the whisper of the BiPAP machine.
Chris Reed was ashen, his breathing harsh behind the mask that covered his nose and mouth. He tried to sit up in bed, but Carla stopped him. She grabbed the button that lay on his bed and pushed it, raising the pillow end into the air.
“Mr. Reed, I’m Detective Gary Mitchell, and this is Dan Porter. We’re here because—”
Chris waved his hand. “I know that part.” He glanced at Carla. “Honey… can you…?”
She leaned over and kissed his forehead. “I need coffee anyway.” With a nod to Gary, she walked out of the room and closed the door behind her.
Chris sagged into the pillows. “I don’t… want her involved. She doesn’t need… to know.” He inhaled deeply. “She’s got enough… on her plate without… me adding to it.”
That part Dan understood all too well.
“You and James Sebring were good friends, I understand.” Gary’s notebook and pen had come out.
Chris nodded. “We’d known each other… for years. He could be… a real pain in the ass… sometimes, especially when… it came to OSHA stuff…. I think he slept… with the regulation folder… under his pillow.” He gave a half smile, but then his face fell. “All you guys need… to know about his death was… it wasn’t an accident.”
“How do you know that? Did you see something that day when you—”
Another wave of his hand. “My story. Need to… tell it my way… all right?”
Gary nodded.
Chris clutched his mask, sucking air into his lungs. At last he spoke. “About a month before… James died, I got my diagnosis. I told him the next day. Just him. I was still kinda numb.” A pause. “Anyhow…. Two weeks later… he came to work… and he was a mess.”
“You were still working?” Dan inquired.
“Yeah. Bills weren’t gonna… pay themselves, right?”
“Why was James a mess?” Gary asked in a low voice.
