"Kind of."
"I don't think Larry knew what was wrong at Crozet Hospital. Not yet anyway but our killer feared him, feared he'd put two and two together quickly once he sobered up. Whatever Larry did observe, our killer made certain I wouldn't know."
Rick's eyes opened wider. "Our perp was in the room, or if he or she has an accomplice they could have called to warn about Larry spilling the beans." He inhaled. "We know from ballistics and the entry point of the bullet that the killer was flat on the hill about a quarter of a mile from the barn. Larry never knew what hit him. The killer crawls back off the hill in case anyone hears the shots. He was damned lucky those kids keep the radio on full blast but maybe he knew that. Maybe he rides. Or he's a hunt follower. He knew where Larry stabled his horse."
Coop added her thoughts. "He crawls back down the hill, gets in his car or truck, whatever, and pulls away as the sun sets. I checked for tracks. Too many of them. Nothing definitive. I had casts taken just in case."
"Good work." He crossed his arms over his chest, bit his lower lip for a moment.
"There's one last thing."
"What?"
"The attack on Harry."
His face fell. He took a last drag, then stubbed out the cigarette, the odor of smoke and tar wafting up from the ashtray. "Damn."
"In the boiler room."
He looked back at the blueprints. "Damn!"
32
"Box of rocks." Fair touched his forehead with his right forefinger.
"Don't start with me," Harry warned as she walked down the steps to the lower parking lot.
On the tarmac the jet warmed its engine, the whine piercing the still February air. Fair had just returned from his conference.
"You didn't even call to tell me."
"Accident." Harry felt like picking a fight.
"I'm so glad I have a girlfriend with a bald spot." He indicated the small patch on her head with the stitches.
"Yeah, be glad you have a girlfriend. Of course, BoomBoom could always fill in if I'm gone."
"You know, Harry, you find the belt and then hit below it."
"Hey, isn't that where you guys live?"
"Thanks a lot, pardner." He reached her truck, swung his bag over the side.
It dropped into the bed with a thud. He put his kit bag on the floor of the passenger side.
They said nothing until Harry paid the parking fee, turned right, and drove down to the Y in the road. "I think I'll go the back way. Through Earlysville."
"I should have known when you didn't call me that you'd gotten in trouble. But 'No,' I told myself, 'she knows how intense these conferences are and she's busy, too.'"
"You could have called me." Harry pouted slightly.
"I wish I had. Not that you would have told me."
"Who did?"
"I've known you since grade school, Sheezits." He called her by her childhood nickname. "You don't have farm accidents."
"I broke my collarbone in seventh grade."
"Roller skating."
"Yeah." She scanned her past for a salvaging incident.
"You stuck your nose where it doesn't belong."
"Did not."
"Miranda told me."
"I knew it!" Harry's face reddened. "I'll never tell her anything again."
Naturally, she would.
A few miles west, the panorama of the Blue Ridge opened before them, deep blue against a grainy, gray sky, a true February sky.
Fair broke the silence. "You could have been killed."
"But I wasn't." She bit her lower lip. "You know, I drove by the hospital and I kind of thought, 'Well, I'll go see where Hank met his maker.' And I walked in the back door. I mean I just didn't think I'd be a threat or whatever I was."
"And now Larry. Oh boy, that's hard to believe. It hasn't really sunk in yet. I think it will when I go by his house or to the next hunt and he's not there."
"Mim's taking it pretty hard. Quietly, obviously."
He stared out at the rolling hills punctuated with barns and houses. "Funny how love persists no matter what."
"Yes."
He looked at her. "Promise me you won't do anything like that again."
"Be specific," she hedged.
"You won't go back into the hospital. You won't snoop around."
"Oh-all right." This was said with no conviction whatsoever.
"Harry."
"Okay, okay, I won't go alone. How's that for a compromise?"
"Not a very good one. You are the most curious thing."
"Runs in the family."
"And that reminds me, if you don't think about reproducing soon the line stops with you." He spoke like a vet whose specialty was breeding. "You've got that good Hepworth and Minor blood, Harry. Time."
"I see. Who's the stud?"
"I'd thought that would be obvious."
33
"You and I will never see eye to eye." Bruce Buxton slammed the door to Sam Mahanes's office.
Sam, on his feet, hurried to the door, yanking it open. "Because you don't see the whole picture. You only see your part, dammit."
Bruce kept walking but Sam's secretary buried her head in her work.
"Ruth, how do you stand that asshole?" Bruce said as he walked by, ignored the elevator, and opened the door to the stairwell. He needed the steps to cool down.
Sam stopped at Ruth's desk. "He thinks I should open all the books, everything, to Sheriff Shaw. Says forget the lawyers. All they do is make everything worse. This was interspersed with complaints about everything but the weather."
"Perhaps he doesn't hold you responsible for that," Ruth dryly replied.
"Huh? Oh." Sam half smiled, then darkened. "Ruth, you're on the pipeline. What are people saying?"
"About what?"
"For starters, about Hank Brevard. Then Larry."
"Well." She put down her pencil, neatly, parallel to her computer keyboard. "At first no one knew what to make of Hank's murder. He wasn't popular and, well-" She paused, collecting her thoughts. "Larry's killing set them off. Now people think the two are connected."
"Are they criticizing me?"
"Uh-some do, most don't."
"I don't know what more I can do." His voice dropped low. "I'm not hiding anything but I can't just open our books to Rick Shaw. I will allow him to study anything and everything with our lawyers present."
"The Board of Directors will find some comfort in that de-cision, Sam." Her tone of voice betrayed neither agreement nor disagreement. As they were close, Ruth used his first name when it was only the two of them around. Otherwise she called him Mr. Mahanes.
"Bruce also wants me to issue a press statement emphasizing all the good things about Crozet Hospital and also emphasizing that-" He stopped. "What the hell good is a press statement? Larry wasn't killed on hospital grounds. Until it's proven that his murder is connected to Hank's murder, I'd be a damn fool to issue a press statement. All that would do is link the two murders in people's minds-those who haven't made that linkage. You ride out bad publicity. A press statement is just asking for trouble at this time. Now I'm not saying I won't do one-" he paused-"when the time is right."
"How long can we fend off the reporters? We can't stop the television crew from shooting in front of the hospital. We can stop them from coming inside but they've made the connection despite us."