real. Quintana may not have killed Preston, but he’s already sent people after me, and Adam’s fate is testimony to his ruthlessness. This is a bad guy, whether our courtroom claims of his involvement in the Preston murder are true or not.
Lying in bed is when I do some of my best thinking. Tonight Laurie lies next to me, awake, so instead of just rattling around in my head, the words I am thinking come out through my mouth. “The thing that gnaws at me, in a good way, if there can be such a thing as good gnawing…”
Laurie gets frustrated with my lengthy preamble. “Spit it out, Andy.”
“Okay. None of these other deaths were ruled murder by the police, not a single one. Assuming the worst, that Kenny killed all of them, why would he have done such a good job covering up his guilt those times, and then with Preston he just about holds up a neon sign saying ‘I’m guilty’? That doesn’t make any sense to me.”
“So maybe someone else did them all, including Preston.”
“That fails the same logic test,” I say. “Whoever it was that did it, why would they make all of the others not look like murder and this one so obvious? To frame Kenny? They could have done that just by killing Preston. Why kill all the others?”
“Somehow the Preston killing is different,” she says. “If it wasn’t Kenny that did it, but instead somebody trying to frame him, the other killings weren’t part of that plan. Don’t forget, if Adam didn’t happen to notice them, we’d think Preston was the only death in the case.”
I’m just about to fall asleep when something makes me think of Bobby Pollard, the wheelchair-bound trainer who has known Kenny since high school. Pollard was in a terrible accident, one that cost him his ability to walk. It clearly could have cost him his life but did not. Should he be on our list as well? Was he supposed to be another victim?
It’s eleven-thirty at night, but the Pollards told me I could call on them at any time, so I take that literally and dial their number. Teri answers, and I explain that I need to talk to her husband. My plan is to meet with them after court tomorrow, but such is their eagerness to help that they give me the option of coming over tonight. They apologetically say that they can’t come to me because their son is asleep and it takes Bobby time to get dressed and become fully mobile.
I’m wound up too tight to sleep, so I figure I might as well go over there. I wake Laurie and tell her where I’m going so that she won’t be worried again. She offers to go with me, but I tell her I’m fine on my own, and she seems quite happy to accept that and go back to sleep.
I leave the house, glancing around for Marcus on the way to my car. I don’t see him, but I know he’s there. I hope he’s there.
Twenty minutes later the Pollards are serving me coffee and cinnamon cake in their dining room. “Bobby, I want to talk to you about your accident” is how I start.
His face reflects an understandable confusion. “My accident? I thought this was about Kenny.”
“There’s a great deal I can’t tell you, including how the various pieces come together. I just ask that you answer my questions as best you can, and reserve any questions of your own until the time I can answer them.”
Bobby looks over at Teri, and she nods her assent, which I think is the only reason he lets this continue. “What about my accident?”
“Tell me how it happened.”
“I already did. I was driving in Spain, and I went off the road. The car rolled over, and I never walked again.” His voice is angry, as if I shouldn’t be making him go through this. He’s right; I shouldn’t.
“What caused you to go off the road?” I ask.
“Another car went out of its lane. I tried to avoid it, give it room, but I ran out of room myself.”
“Who was driving the other car?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t know. They didn’t stop. I don’t even know if they saw what happened to me.”
“Do you think they did what they did intentionally?”
“I never have, no. Do you know something I don’t?”
I ignore the question, trying to get through this. “Who was with you on the trip