"That's a pretty wild theory."
"Yes, it is. And it's one with absolutely no proof to support it. But I told you in Calico Rock that we always suspected Sam had help. Or perhaps Sam was merely a helper for John Doe. At any rate, when Sam screwed up and got caught, John Doe vanished. Perhaps he's been at work eliminating witnesses."
"Why would he kill Dogan's wife?"
"Because she happened to be in bed with him when the house blew up."
"Why would he kill Dogan's son?"
"To keep Dogan quiet. Remember, when Dogan testified his son had been missing for four months."
"I've never read anything about the son."
"It was not well known. It happened in Germany. We advised Dogan to keep it quiet."
"I'm confused. Dogan didn't finger anybody else at trial. Only Sam. Why would John Doe kill him afterward
"Because he still knew secrets. And because he testified against C-Mother Klansman."
Adam cracked two shells and dropped the peanuts in front of a single, fat pigeon. Lettner finished the bag and threw another handful of hulls on the sidewalk near a water fountain. It was almost noon, and dozens of office workers hurried through the park in pursuit of the perfect thirty-minute lunch.
"You hungry?" Lettner asked, glancing at his watch.
"No."
"Thirsty? I need a beer."
"No. How does John Doe affect me?"
"Sam's the only witness left, and he's scheduled to be silenced in two weeks. If he dies without talking, then John Doe can live in peace. If Sam doesn't die in two weeks, then John Doe is still anxious. But if Sam starts talking, then somebody might get hurt."
"Me?"
"You're the one trying to find the truth."
"You think he's out there?"
"Could be. Or he might be driving a cab in Montreal. Or maybe he never existed."
Adam glanced over both shoulders with exaggerated looks of fear.
"I know it sounds crazy," Lettner said.
"John Doe is safe. Sam ain't talking."
"There's a potential danger, Adam. I just wanted you to know."
"I'm not scared. If Sam gave me John Doe's name right now, I'd scream it in the streets and file motions by the truckload. And it wouldn't do -any good. It's too late for new theories of guilt or innocence."
"What about the governor?"
"I doubt it."
"Well, I want you to be careful."
"Thanks, I guess."
"Let's get a beer."
I've got to keep this guy away from Lee, Adam thought. "It's five minutes before noon. Surely you don't start this early."
"Oh, sometimes I start with breakfast."
John Doe sat on a park bench with a newspaper in front of his face and pigeons around his feet. He was eighty feet away, so he couldn't hear what they were saying. He thought he recognized the old man with Adam as an FBI agent whose face had appeared in the newspapers years ago: He would follow the guy and find out who he was and where he lived.
Wedge was getting bored with Memphis, and this suited him fine. The kid worked at the office and drove to Parchman and slept at the condo, and seemed to be spinning his wheels. Wedge followed the news carefully. His name had not been mentioned. No one knew about him.
The note on the counter was dated properly. She had given the time as 7:15 P.m. It was Lee's handwriting, which was not neat to begin with but was even sloppier now. She said she was in bed with what appeared to be the flu. Please don't disturb. She'd been to the doctor who told her to sleep it off. For added effect, a prescription bottle from a local pharmacy was sitting nearby next to a half-empty glass of water. It had today's date on it.
Adam quickly checked the wastebasket under the sink - no sign of booze.
He quietly put a frozen pizza in the microwave and went to the patio to watch the barges on the river.
32
THE first kite of the morning arrived shortly after breakfast, as Sam stood in his baggy boxer shorts and leaned through the bars with a cigarette. It was from Preacher Boy, and it brought bad news. It read:
Dear Sam:
The dream is finished. The Lord worked on me last night and finally showed me the rest of it. I wish he hadn't done it. There's a lot to it, and I'll explain it all if you want. Bottom line is that you'll be with him shortly. He told me to tell you to get things right with him. He's waiting. The journey will be rough, but the rewards will be worth it. I love you.
Brother Randy
Bon voyage, Sam mumbled to himself as he crumpled the paper and threw it on the floor. The kid was slowly deteriorating, and there was no way to help him. Sam had already prepared a series of motions to be filed at some uncertain point in the future when Brother Randy was thoroughly insane.
He saw Gullitt's hands come through the bars next door.
"How you doin', Sam?" Gullitt finally asked. "God's upset with me," Sam said.
"Really?"
"Yeah. Preacher Boy finished his dream last night."
"Thank God for that."
"It was more like a nightmare."