“No blood,” Weinstock agreed slowly, his voice soft, thoughtful. He set the scalpel down and eased the body onto its back. He shifted position, standing near to Castle’s head, his body blocking the view from the nurse as he poked and probed at the dead officer’s throat.
“What’s it mean?”
Weinstock turned toward him, and now Barney could see that sweat was pouring down the doctor’s face. Weinstock folded his hairy arms and leaned a hip against Cowan’s table, looking slowly from one body to the other and back again. He was trying to look casual, but his face was hard and his eyes almost glassy. Then he reached over and punched the Off button on the tape recorder and looked up at the nurse, who was beginning to fidget. “Let me ask you something, Barney,” he said slowly, his voice as taut as violin strings. “How much do you like this job?”
“Huh?”
“Your job, being a nurse here at the hospital, how much do you like it?”
“Uh…well, I like it just fine, Doc.”
“Means a lot to you, this job?”
“Yes sir.”
“Got a wife? Kids?”
“Sure, Jenny and I have just the one. She’ll be ten months on Monday.”
“Ten months? My oh my. Babies are expensive, aren’t they?”
“You said it.”
“So, I guess it would be a safe assumption that you really need this job?”
“Sir?” Barney was frowning, beginning to feel really nervous.
“I mean, with a wife and a new baby, you need to keep this job, am I right?”
Carefully, afraid to commit himself, Barney said, “Ye-ees.”
“Uh huh.” Weinstock rubbed at the corner of his mouth with the back of his bent wrist, his eyes fixed piercingly on the nurse. “Well, let me just say this, then. Right now there are just two people who know about the condition of these two bodies. Correct?”
“Um…yeah, I guess so.”
“Just the two of us. Now, I am going to write a very confidential report on the condition of these bodies. I will only be sharing that report with Mayor Wolfe, and perhaps with the chief—and
“Well sure, but I—”
“And you need to keep this job.”
Barney said nothing.
“So I can also expect that you won’t tell anyone, either.”
After a long pause, Barney said, “Yes, sir.”
Weinstock nodded. “Understand me here, Barney—I like you and we’ve known each other for a long time, so I’m not threatening you. Don’t take it that way, please, but something is very, very wrong here and I need to know with absolute confidence that you are going to maintain the confidentiality of this at all costs.”
Barney’s face was flushed with anger, but he took a couple of breaths and nodded. “Whatever you need, Dr. Weinstock.”
They looked at each other for a long moment, then Weinstock gave a single curt nod. “Okay, I am going to do the autopsies on these officers, and you are going to assist me, correct?”
“Yes, sir.”
“However, once you leave this room, you are going to forget everything that happened here, understand? Everything you see. Everything I say when I make my notes.” He paused. “Everything.”
“Yes, Dr. Weinstock. Absolutely clear. You can count on me.”
Weinstock wiped sweat from his face with a paper towel. “Good,” he said softly. “Good man.”
“Dr. Weinstock…what’s going on? What’s happening?”
Weinstock looked at him for a very long time, his dark eyes intense, bright, but also watery. “What’s happening?” he murmured. He gave a short, harsh bark of a laugh. “What’s happening is something that can’t be happening.”
Barney frowned at him and felt very afraid.
Chapter 13
(1)
When Jim Polk’s cell phone rang he nearly pissed on his shoes. He jiggled and finished as fast as he could and was zipping up with one hand while digging his phone out of his pocket with the other. He flipped it open, saw Vic’s name on the caller ID and almost—almost—didn’t answer. Instead he flicked a glance at the police cruiser parked at an angle to the entrance to the Guthrie farm, where he could see his partner, Dixie McVey, reading a copy of
“You alone?” Vic asked.
“Yeah. Me and Dix are doing some bullshit shift, sitting on our thumbs outside of the Guthrie place. Waste of fu—”
“Are you alone?” Vic repeated, adding some edge to it. “Can McVey hear you?”
“No, I stepped out to take a whiz.”
“Well, put your pecker back in your drawers and listen up.”
“Okay, okay…go ahead,” Polk said neutrally, absolutely sure he didn’t want to hear whatever it was Vic was going to say.
“What’s the scoop on this manhunt bullshit?”
“They’re still looking for Boyd. Nobody’s found shit.”
Vic chuckled. “They will. I just made sure Boyd would be spotted far away from here.”
“You tried that shit before and the dumb son of a bitch came back.”
“Ancient history, it’s all been sorted out now. I can guarantee that he’ll do what we want from now on.”
Polk felt sick. “About that, Vic…why’d he have to let Boyd kill Nels Cowan? Nels was okay.”
