Overkill(29)

“I thought she was. What’s that tube for?” He touched his Adam’s apple.

“She can’t swallow. The tracheotomy tube prevents obstruction and eases her breathing.”

He assimilated everything she’d told him. “What you’re saying is that things could get worse, but she’ll never improve.”

“Patients who recover from a TBI usually begin showing improvement within a matter of days. After this length of time…” She shook her head. “In the highly unlikely event that Rebecca became even minimally conscious, her mental capacity would be nil. Her most recent EEG and PET scan show virtually no electrical activity or cerebral function.” She gave him a kind smile. “But stranger things have happened, and I’m not God.”

His throat had grown tight, making it difficult to swallow. “Say you were called upon to play God, Dr. Gilbreath. What would you do?”





Chapter 13





Zach had to press Bing’s doorbell three times before he heard the bolt clack. His former coach opened the door. “Where’d you come from?”

“Louisiana.”

“What the hell were you doing down there?”

“It’s raining out here.”

Bing moved out of the way and motioned him inside. He took off his jacket and shook rainwater off it, then hung it on the hall tree. “Why didn’t you answer your doorbell?”

“Why didn’t you warn me that you were coming? If you were on your way home from Louisiana, wasn’t coming through South Carolina a little out of your way?” After retiring from his coaching job at Clemson, Bing had moved back to nearby Greenville where he’d begun his career at a local high school. “Now you’re here…” He turned and waved his hand for Zach to follow him.

They filed down the dim hallway whose walls served as a gallery for pictures of football teams, players, and highlight game moments captured on film. The images covered the decades of Bing’s coaching career. Zach was featured in many of the photos, but he didn’t pause to gaze upon them with nostalgia.

Bing led him into his den, a room that defined the word. It had darkly paneled walls, a low acoustical tile ceiling, two small windows with shades that Zach had never seen open, and furniture that was at least thirty years old. But a large, late model, high-tech TV was attached to the wall opposite Bing’s vintage leather recliner.

“It was just getting to the good part,” he grumbled. On the screen a man and woman, both buck naked, were copulating with vigor in a bed draped in embellished velvet.

Zach said, “Don’t let me interrupt.”

“Aw, I’ve seen it.” Bing reached for the remote and muted the lusty grunts and groans. “It’s one of those historical series. There’s a bloody war with horses and swords and castles, and knights shouting, ‘Open the gate.’”

“Who’s winning?”

“The war? I don’t know. I don’t think the warriors know, either. They fornicate more than they fight.” He claimed his recliner. “Sit down. Want something to drink? You know where the fridge is.”

There was a can of beer on the TV tray at Bing’s right hand.

“No thanks.” Zach sat down on the sofa and leaned his head back against the sagging cushion.

“You gonna make me ask again?”

“I’m not thirsty. I’ll get something later.”

“Not about that. What were you doing in Louisiana? Where in Louisiana?”

“New Orleans.”

“Huh.” They exchanged a long look, communicating silently what his trip had pertained to. Bing took a sip of his beer, then returned the can to the tray, saying, “Well, you’ve got the right to know where things stand with her.”

“The right.” Zach laid his forearm across his eyes. “I’d happily give up that right. I tried to.”

“Not hard enough.”

“I did what I thought was right at the time.”

“You caved under pressure is what you did. Like a rookie.”

“Jesus. You’re making me sorry I came.”

“Why didn’t you insist on resigning, Zach? You would have been free of this years ago.”

“That was then, this is now. Let’s focus on now, okay?”

Bing was scowling, but he eased off. “Did you see Rebecca?”

“Yes.”

“Bad, I guess.”

“You guess right.”

“Was her dad around?”

“No.”

“Any particular reason why you chose now to pay a visit?”

“Yes.” Zach lowered his arm and looked over at Bing, who had his rough hands linked and resting on his middle. He’d settled in to listen.

“Yesterday morning, I was outside having coffee and enjoying my view of the waterfall. This slick SUV pulls up.” Zach began at the beginning and told him everything. When he finished, having talked for almost half an hour uninterrupted, he kept his eyes closed and waited to hear what Bing would say about it all.

“So this Lennon woman gave you the transcript of Eban Clarke’s trial.”

“Last night.” Last night? God, it seemed like a thousand years ago, and he’d covered at least that many miles since then. “She sent it to me in an email.”