Last shot

Chapter 24

Tim flipped through the visitor log as he and Bear followed the head nurse down the scrubbed tile corridor.

Bear cupped a photo of Walker in his palm. "Seen him?" She shook her head, and he extended the picture to her, and his card. "Would you mind showing this to the staff and patients?"

"Not at all." The picture disappeared into a white pocket at her waist. She signaled them to wait, knocked once at a door, and cracked it. "You have some visitors." She nodded at the muffled reply, then stepped back, letting them enter.

Bev Jameson's frail body left a well-delineated imprint in the thin sheets. Concave cheeks, ash-colored skin, and recessed eyes made clear death had her in its sights. Her gown was open at the throat. The wrinkles clustered and quickened, forming a sagging web before disappearing beneath the collar.

As Bear introduced them, Tim took note of the drawings taped to her walls. "Your grandson?"

Her stiff hair rasped against the pillow as she nodded.

"I'm sorry for your loss."

"Which one?" Cigarettes had taken the veneer off her voice.

"Your daughter. And I suppose your son."

"My daughter is dead. So unless you're here to tell me my boy is, too…?" A cocked eyebrow. Tim shook his head. She exhaled through her nose, a short burst of disdain. "I know people like you-proper people-might just as soon have a son dead as in prison, but don't you dare offer me your condolences."

"I didn't mean it that way."

"You're not fit to lick my boy's boots."

Bear, stuck for once in the good-cop position, said gently, "We're sorry to barge in on you. We'd like to ask you a few questions, and then we'll be on our way."

"Dottie? Stop pestering me, Dot." Bev glanced at the empty bedside chair, her lips quivering.

Bear and Tim exchanged a puzzled glance.

"Are you aware that your son broke out of prison?" Tim asked.

"Not my boy. My boy's in the marines." She hollered into the imaginary other room. "Isn't that right, Dot?"

Tim did his best, but questioning Bev was like eating a soup sandwich. Bear spent the first few minutes writing down the names of Bev's imaginary friends but soon gave up. He seemed relieved when his cell rang. He glanced up from the caller ID screen and mouthed "CSI" to Tim before stepping out into the hall.

Tim again found himself trying to win Bev's attention back from Dot when Bear reentered, his face serious. "That was Aaronson. He wants us at the lab."

Bev didn't register Tim's farewell. He and Bear jogged to the Ram. They were pulling out of the parking lot when another nurse ran out, flagging them down. The brakes squealed their displeasure, and Tim rolled down his window.

The nurse held Walker's photo. "I saw this man. Beverly's son? He was here this morning."

Tim's voice came louder than intended. "This morning? What time?"

"Right around the start of my shift. I'd say seven-thirty, maybe."

"Did you see him arrive? What was he wearing?"

She looked slightly flustered. "I don't really remember. I just came in the room and he was there, and I came back and he was gone. Why don't you ask Beverly?"

"She's a bit out to lunch, no?"

A furrow drew her eyebrows together. "What are you talking about?"

"Senile dementia? Alzheimer's, maybe?"

The nurse's arms wove themselves together across her chest. "Beverly Jameson is perfectly lucid."

Bear lowered his forehead to the steering wheel and let out a guffaw. Dotty indeed. Tim got out, leaving Bear to question the nurse.

A smile pulled at Bev's mouth when Tim entered.

"Nice selective-incompetence routine. Use it myself sometimes."

"I bet you're more convincing, too," she said with sudden clarity.

Tim couldn't stop his smile. "Maybe so." He and Bear had to regroup and rethink. Walker had been out only one night and half a day, but he was moving quickly, hitting his marks, while they'd spent the morning chasing the wrong leads. They had to anticipate, not chase. Tim hoped whatever Aaronson had waiting for them would give them a jump.

He withdrew, feeling Bev's keen stare on his back. At the door he heard the flat, gravelly voice behind him. "I'm never going to see my son again."

When he turned, her head was rolled away, her eyes on the window and the gray-blue sky beyond.