“He was about to take a nap when you came in,” Sherry said. “Dr. Elliott isn’t as worried about the head injury now, so he upped the limit on the pain pump. He’ll probably feel better tomorrow, if you want to come back.”
Caitlin wasn’t about to leave without speaking to Henry alone. “I’d like to stay, if you don’t mind. I can wait until he wakes up if I have to. I can work on my stories in the waiting room. I really need to be sure of my facts. I won’t bother him until he’s ready, I promise.” Caitlin could see she was making no headway with Sherry, so she threw out some bait for Henry. “I could even read him some of my story, if he wants to hear it. I’d love to get your input, Henry.”
Before Sherry could argue, Henry said, “Yeah … sit with me awhile. I want to hear.”
“Have it your way,” Sherry said. She closed her eyes for a couple of seconds, and when she opened them, Caitlin saw not anger, but something else. Cabin fever, she realized.
“Actually,” Sherry said, “if you can sit with him awhile, I could run home and pick up some things. I haven’t had a shower or seen my son since yesterday. He’s sixteen, but he still needs me.”
Trying to conceal her elation, Caitlin gave what she hoped was an accommodating smile. “Of course he does. I’m happy to stay. Take a couple of hours if you need it.”
Sherry took the pain pump controller from Henry’s hand and pressed its button once. “Hit that every twelve minutes if he falls asleep,” she said. “He can’t OD from it. The maximum dose is preset. But you don’t want to get behind the pain curve.”
“Every twelve minutes,” Caitlin promised.
Sherry hiked her purse strap over her shoulder, then walked to the window ledge and picked up a vase of bloodred roses. As she passed Caitlin, she took the plastic card holder from among the flowers and held it up for her to see. The card read: To the World Champion Nigger-Lover. Die soon, okay?
“I didn’t show him this one,” she whispered.
“We need to give that card to the FBI. Do you mind?”
Sherry shrugged.
Caitlin took the plastic rod with its three-pronged pitchfork end and stood it upright inside her purse.
“What are you girls talking about?” Henry asked in a jealous tone.
“None of your beeswax,” Sherry said. “I’ll be back soon. Don’t you hit on this pretty girl while I’m gone.”
Something like a laugh came from Henry’s puffy lips.
Then Sherry was gone.
Caitlin opened her computer case, took out two photographs, then moved quickly to the right side of the bed and leaned over Henry. She figured she only had a couple of minutes before the Dilaudid knocked him out. “I needed to see you alone. Don’t speak any more than you need to. Just lift your hand to show you understand or if you mean yes. For no, move your hand sideways. Okay?”
Henry lifted his bandaged hand slightly.
“Good. I’ve been through almost everything from your safe-deposit boxes.”
Worry flickered in Henry’s eyes.
“Sherry doesn’t know about Swan Norris, does she?”
“No.”
“I’ll make sure she never does, if that’s how you want it.”
He nodded.
“But I did something big today, Henry. I want you to be the first to know. I have proof that Brody Royal killed Albert Norris. Pooky, too.”
The reporter’s eyes went so wide that it frightened her.
She touched his wrist. “Take it easy. I went back and saw Katy Royal, and she opened up about her father. She told me she’d been sexually abused in that sanatorium in Texas. Then she implicated her father in Albert’s and Pooky’s murders. Dr. Robb’s, too. She even said that Brody killed her mother. Drowned her in the bathtub. And that’s how she died, all right. I checked. But the main thing is, I recorded almost every word of it.”
A high color had come into Henry’s cheeks. “My God … after all this time. On tape, you said?”
“Well, on my phone. And that’s not all. Katy also blamed her father for the attack on you, and for Viola’s death.”
Henry looked more confused than incredulous, and Caitlin realized from the rapid ping of his monitors that his heart rate had increased. “Henry, please try to calm down. You’re in a vulnerable state, and we don’t want the nurses coming in here, do we?”
“I’m all right,” he croaked. “Just … I’ve waited so long for this. To get that … monster. And you did it in one day.”
“Well. My news isn’t all good, I’m afraid.”
“Whassa matter?”
Caitlin almost couldn’t bring herself to say the words. But having come this far, she had to tell the rest. “Katy took some pills, Henry. A lot of pills. She attempted suicide. She’s over in St. Catherine’s Hospital—alive, but in a coma.”
He closed his eyes and swallowed hard. “I knew she was … fragile. But I can’t blame you. I tried to go back to her myself.”
“I know. I was just trying to do what I thought you’d do.”
Henry’s eyes remained closed. The corner of his left eye expressed what looked like a tear, but she couldn’t be sure. “Henry?”
“Nnhh?” he groaned sleepily.
The Dilaudid was kicking in. “I brought some things to show you. I found some old photos in one of your notebooks.” She didn’t want to mention the fire, in case no one had told him about it. “Would you look at them for just one second?”
The reporter opened his eyes with difficulty. Caitlin held the first snapshot up and tilted it so the overhead light shone on the paper.
“This is Tom Cage with Brody Royal,” she said. “In a fishing boat. Can you see it?”
“Don’t need to.”
“Why was Tom with Royal?”
“Don’t know. That picture always worried me …” Henry blinked and opened his mouth, but no sound came out.
“Henry?” She fought the urge to shake him. “Can you hear me?”
“Doc … never let me … interview him. I … gave Penn copy.”
Caitlin’s mouth fell open as Henry groaned. One more thing Penn had withheld from her.