The Theory of Death

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The Theory of Death Page 33

by Faye Kellerman


  “What? Wait a sec.”

  But Decker was already gone. McAdams made a face. “You can come out of hiding, Mallon.” She stepped out of the blind swaddled in a white parka, white pants, and white boots. She looked like a snowman. “How long have you been waiting there?”

  “About a half hour.”

  “You’re allowed to ring the doorbell.”

  “I was gonna do it, but then you came out.” A pause. “I heard.” Her lower lip quivered. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine, but thanks for asking.” Tears streamed down her cheek. “Really I’m fine. Stop.” His insistence turned the waterworks on full blast. He said, “Oh Christ. C’mere.”

  She walked toward him and he embraced her in a big hug. “I’m fine.”

  “I just . . . care.”

  “Thank you. I’m glad you care.”

  She pulled away. “You’re going back to Harvard?”

  “Yes. I’m still officially enrolled.”

  Her eyes looked at her boots. “Okay. So I’ll see you maybe . . .”

  “I’m sure I’ll see you again before you graduate.” But she made no attempt to excuse herself. “Something on your mind?”

  “I had a long talk with Dr. Tolvard. I’m taking over Eli’s work for my thesis. Tolvard said I could have it. He even said he’d work with me.”

  “Eli’s research on space junk?”

  She nodded but still couldn’t look him in the eye. “Yeah, I have to go to summer school anyway, now that I’m getting two degrees. Actually, Rosser, by being a butthead, did me a favor. I get to honor Eli by continuing his work.”

  “That’s lovely, Mallon. I’m sure he would have wanted it that way.”

  “Maybe.” She shrugged. “Besides, his ideas were way better than mine. It’ll make a much better thesis in both departments.”

  McAdams laughed. “No sin in being practical.” He gave her a brief smile that she didn’t see because she was still looking down. “Any plans after summer school and graduation?”

  “Actually yes.” She cleared her throat. “Eli must have written to Google at one point, telling someone what he was doing. He must have listed Dr. Tolvard as a reference. Dr. Tolvard got a call and referred them to me.”

  She stopped talking. McAdams could see where this was going. “You’ve landed an internship at Google?”

  “Actually, a job . . . in the fall.”

  “Plotting space junk?”

  “Yes. Satellites are expensive. No sense launching something if it’s going to collide with crap. Obviously, it’s what Eli would have wanted to do. Why let all his hard work go to waste?”

  “Why indeed.” He placed a hand on her shoulder and she looked up. “Any organization that has you on board is very lucky. Congratulations.”

  Again her eyes teared up. “I can finally visit my sister.” A pause. “I’ve never been to the West Coast.”

  “The bay area is beautiful. The weather is lovely and it’s truly scenic country. All you have to remember is that the ocean is to the west instead of the east.”

  There was an awkward pause. She said, “Can I e-mail you?”

  “Anytime.”

  “Can I text you?”

  “Yeah, you can even call me.”

  “I like texting better.”

  McAdams laughed. “Whatever, Mallon. I would like it if we keep in touch.”

  “You would?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re not just saying that?”

  “No. Let’s keep in touch.”

  Another awkward moment. She kissed his lips gently. “Thank you for taking me seriously.”

  “And thank you for having faith in my ability as a cop.” This time he kissed her gently. “I need to go now, I’ll miss my bus.”

  “I thought Decker was taking you up.”

  “Yeah, that’s right. He is. But I still need to go.”

  “Trying to get rid of me.”

  McAdams ignored her comment. “I’ll talk to you soon. I mean I’ll text you soon.”

  “Whatever!” She walked away, then she turned to him and smiled.

  It was a radiant grin.

  CHAPTER 37

  THE DAY WAS crystal: deep blue skies, cotton-ball clouds, and a bright full sun. Decker pulled down the car’s visor to deflect the glare from the acres of snow-covered ground. The afternoon heat of forty-two degrees had melted some of the drifts and that made driving on the rutted road a challenge as the tires ground and stalled in mud and slush. He arrived at the farm just as the sun was sinking against a flat, white horizon.

  Ruth Anne opened the door, in her eyes a mixture of surprise and alarm. “Detective Decker.” A pause. “How nice of you to visit.”

  “I was in the area, so I decided to pop in. I hope that’s okay.”

  “Of course.” She hesitated, but then she caught herself. “I’m so sorry. Where are my manners? Do come in.”

  “Thank you.” He wiped his feet on the mat. “Am I interrupting anything important?”

  “No, not at all.” She stepped aside and wiped her hands on an apron. “Is Mrs. Decker with you?”

  “Unfortunately, no.”

  “Please sit down. How about some coffee?”

  “I’d love a cup of coffee.”

  “Ezra’s gone to market. He won’t be back for a while. Do you need to talk to him?”

  “Actually, I’d love to speak to Jacob if he’s available.”

  Ruth Anne hesitated. “I think he’s in the barn.” She was fidgety. She probably wasn’t used to being alone with a nonrelative man in the house. “How about if I put on a pot of coffee and then get Jacob for you?”

  “Don’t bother. Just point me in the right direction.”

  “Well, all right.” She licked her lips. “Anything new?”

  “Concerning Elijah? Nothing, I’m afraid.”

  “How about the death of that teacher?”

  “We have someone in custody.”

  “I see.” She continued to fidget and didn’t ask for details.

  Knowing her faith, Decker said, “This won’t be a death-penalty case, Ruth Anne. It was just one of those unfortunate things that shouldn’t have happened.”

  “I’m glad no one is seeking revenge. Decisions like that are best left up to God.” A pause. “Well, then.” She led him to the back door. “You can see the barn from here . . . that little peak of red.”

  “Yep.”

  “It’s about a five-minute walk. But be careful. It’s muddy and some ice is still on the ground.”

  “Yeah, my car tires have been taking a beating. It was a beautiful day, though.”

  “It is nice to see the sun. Even though we’re not even in February, it feels like spring’s around the corner.”

  She seemed to be speaking metaphorically, as if she deigned to hope that one day her dark winter might lift. The loss of a child was forever sadness. No joy could ever be felt without an “if only.” But Ruth Anne was making a valiant effort to keep up her dignity as well as her privacy. She had her family, she had her community, and she had her faith in God. Decker smiled. “It’s never too early for spring.”

  “And bring Jacob back with you. He’s been out there for a while. He can use a little thawing out.”

  “I’ll do that.” Slowly, Decker worked his way through the icy trail. The dusk was incredibly quiet, the loudest sound being his breathing. He felt warm air from his lungs on his cold nose, which was probably rosy by now. Stepping carefully, he followed melted footprints that had already paved the pathway. As he approached the structure, he could hear the bleating of the sheep. When he opened the door, he found that the inside of the barn was almost as cold as the outside. It reeked of wet hay and sheep dung. Jacob was tending to a lambkin, feeding it from a bottle. He looked up, but then he went back to his business.

  “Where’s the ewe?” Decker asked.

  “She’s in the isolation crib—infection.” He stood up and wiped his gloved hands on his
overalls. His face was wet with perspiration and his hair was wet from water dripping through the rafters. “She’s getting better, but she’s on antibiotics, which isn’t too good for the baby. I’ve gone about milking her by hand to keep her ducts open. Hopefully the lamb will be able to nurse from his mom in a couple of days.”

  He held up the bottle.

  “He has an appetite. That’s a good thing.”

  “Sign of health,” Decker said.

  “Yes, it is,” Jacob said.

  “How’s your appetite, Jacob?”

  “I’m fine.” He wiped his face with a handkerchief. Under his breath, he said, “Just peachy.”

  Decker said, “The shock has worn off and now you’re pissed at him.” When Jacob didn’t answer, he said, “I’d be pissed if I were you.”

  “Why should I be pissed at Eli? You are talking about Eli, right?”

  “Of course.” Decker took in a deep breath and let it out. “You know, Jacob, I talked to a lot of people about Eli’s frame of mind before it happened. No one told me that Eli had seemed depressed. As a matter of fact, people said that he had been more social and more outgoing than anyone had remembered. That kept sticking in my craw. Why would he end it if he wasn’t depressed?”

  “You tell me.” Jacob hesitated. “Did you find a note or something?”

  “No, we didn’t find a note. Did he send you a note?”

  “Why would he do that? You think I’d hide it from you?”

  “You might want to protect your parents.” When Jacob didn’t answer, Decker said, “I know he talked to you. You two were close.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  Bitterness had crept into the young man’s voice. Decker said, “The thing is, Jacob, before I could start thinking about why Eli did it, I had to make sure that his death wasn’t connected to Katrina Belfort’s murder.”

  “Was it?”

  “No. And once I realized the incidents were completely unrelated, I couldn’t stop thinking about your brother.”

  “Well, good luck with that.”

  Decker kept his voice soft. “Eli had told you what was happening to him, didn’t he.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “What I mean is that his brain was starting to heal from the accident, that he was finally starting to feel and act like his old self again.”

  Jacob wiped his nose with his glove. “His old goofy self was how he put it.” Anger welled up in his eyes. “He always was a stupid idiot.”

  “And as he healed—as your brother started returning to his former life—his prodigious mind was crashing. His mathematical talents that once came so easy to him were slipping away.”

  The barn fell quiet except for the bleating of the sheep.

  “He was stuck in this no-man’s-land,” Decker said. “Not himself entirely, but no longer the math whiz kid. It was tearing him apart.”

  “We weren’t good enough for him anymore.” Jacob was whispering.

  “You know that wasn’t it.”

  “Then give me another reason.” Jacob’s nostrils flared with fury. “His family who loved him for whatever he was, for whatever he would be in the future, we just weren’t good enough.”

  Tears fell from his eyes.

  “He swore he wouldn’t do it. Even so I made him swear on the Bible that he wouldn’t do it.” He looked at Decker. “He looked me square in the eye and lied to me. Now I’m carrying this horrible . . . it’s on my shoulders. I’ll never forgive him for that. Never!”

  His lip trembled.

  “I failed my parents. I failed myself. Mostly I failed him.”

  “You didn’t fail, Jacob.” The young man looked up. “There was nothing you could do to prevent it. If someone is determined to kill himself, it’s going to happen. All we can do is try to understand. It must have been torture for him to see his brilliant mind collapsing as his brain healed. Maybe he figured if he couldn’t live as a genius, then at least he’d die as one.”

  “And so he did, stupid ass.”

  “I’m sure your religion teaches you compassion.”

  “I’m way beyond that. All I think about is what a jackass he was. It’s bad enough he lied to me. But he lied on the Bible. And to do this to my parents. They don’t deserve this shit. How could he do that to them?”

  “Suicide is a selfish act. But it’s also an act of desperation. He couldn’t see any way out. He must have felt very lonely.”

  “How the hell does he come off feeling lonely! He was the one who ditched his family.” Jacob spat at the ground. “He swore me to silence. Well, he can break his word, but I won’t. And now I’m stuck with this horrible burden. I can’t tell my parents. It would hurt them beyond anything.” He looked at Decker with red eyes. “If he wouldn’t have sworn on a Bible, I would have said something. He knew what swearing on a Bible meant and he did it anyway. And now I’m responsible. I am so damn pissed at him.”

  “Eli put you in an untenable spot. There was no way you could win.”

  “I hate him for doing what he did to me. I also hate him because our love and faith couldn’t compete with his desire for immortality or whatever.”

  “It wasn’t that, Jacob.”

  “I beg to differ. That’s exactly what it was.”

  Decker didn’t argue. The kid was entitled to his feelings and there was probably some truth to what he felt. “This burden you carry, Jacob. It’s a lot for you to hold inside. I can understand why you wouldn’t upset your parents. But if you ever want to talk about it, I’m a phone call away. And if you want to talk more about it, I can get you someone more useful than me.”

  “Like a shrink? You think I’m weak?”

  “Not at all. To take on this burden in silence shows a towering strength of character. I’m anything but weak, Jacob. I’ve sought out help from time to time. But it’s up to you.”

  “Why would I want to talk about it to you or anyone, for that matter?” he snapped. “I wish I could forget I ever talked to that idiot!” Jacob bit his lip. “I know you mean well, Detective. But I’m not the talking kind.”

  “I respect that, but the offer is always open,” Decker said. “Your mother made a pot of coffee. She told me to tell you to come inside and thaw out.”

  “You go. I’ll be there in around ten minutes.”

  “I think your mom’s a little edgy about being alone with me.”

  “Oh . . . right. That’s a religious thing. I’ve still got work to do. I’ve got to feed a few more cossets and then I’ve got to clean out some pens.”

  “I can help you out with that. My uncle had a farm in Florida. I used to spend my summers with him. It was mostly orange groves, but he did own some livestock. I mucked the horses’ stalls, baled hay, and fed a lot of piglets. I also put up fences so the gators couldn’t come in and snatch the babies.”

  Jacob laughed but there was no joy in it. “I think you’re putting me on.”

  “Jacob, it is not something that I would make up to impress you.”

  “Okay, then. You asked for it.” He handed Decker a bottle. “You can feed the one in the corner if you can wrassle him down. He’s feisty.”

  “Not a problem.”

  Actually, it was a problem. The baby not only ruined his shirt and pants with his muddy hooves, his resistance caused Decker to break into a sweat. At least he was providing amusement for the kid, who smiled at Decker’s grief. Finally, he managed to hold the lamb steady and pop the bottle into its mouth. Once the baby realized that there was a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, he drained his dinner in roughly five minutes. Decker and Jacob worked in silence until the chores were done.

  Afterward, as they were walking back to the house, Jacob said, “Thanks.”

  “For what?”

  “I don’t know exactly. Not judging me, I guess.”

  “Oh hell no.” He put his arm around the kid’s shoulder. To his surprise, the kid didn’t resist. “Your parents lean on you a lot. It’s natural. You
’re the oldest and you’ve been tagged the responsible one. But a little fun goes a long way. It’s good for the soul.”

  Jacob didn’t answer. Then he said, “I got engaged yesterday.”

  “Congratulations.”

  “Quick, huh? Like two and a half months.”

  “You know when it’s right.” Decker paused. “Are you happy about it?”

  “Yeah.” He scratched his chin. “Yeah, I really am happy about it. We’re good together.”

  “I’m happy for you.”

  “Weddings are community affairs. You can come if you want. You can also bring your wife.”

  “That’s good because we usually do go together.” The kid smiled. “I’m sure she’d love to come. She likes ethnic things, being ethnic herself.”

  “Yeah, all ethnic mothers are pretty much the same.” Jacob went quiet. “I really don’t hate Eli.”

  “I know that.”

  “We were close growing up. We had our assigned roles—I was the responsible one, he was the goof. I just . . . I don’t know. It must have been hard for him to see it all going south. He just didn’t want to stick around for the crash. He was never too good at picking up the pieces. He always left that to me.”

  “You carried him as well as anyone.”

  “I suppose. Still, I wish I could do something for him beyond visiting the cemetery.”

  “You know a friend of his from college is taking over his research in his honor. In his short years as a math prodigy, he did a lot of good things. Maybe his impact will be felt beyond the grave.”

  “I hope so.” He shook his head. “Although I still think he was a selfish jerk.” Tears followed. “There’s always one in every family.”

  Decker didn’t answer. His mind said, Amen to that, brother.

  WHEN RINA ANSWERED the phone, McAdams didn’t bother with the pleasantries. Instead, he said, “I didn’t want to bother the old man at work. But I thought I’d let you know that I passed.”

  “Congratulations. I had no doubts.”

  “I did. I got very lucky.”

 

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