Even Barney Simpson, who didn’t seem like the most lighthearted of individuals, perked up around Dr. Thomason. I remembered he’d gone in to talk to Xylda the night before; no, he’d peeked in and gone away. He hadn’t even gone into the room.

Doak Garland was across the hall, praying with some relatives outside a room with an “Oxygen in Use” sign on the door. Anyone would go with him, too. He was so meek and mild, so pink and polite.

Why was I even worried about further suspects? Tom Almand had been arrested. The case was closed. It was hard to believe one man could cause so much misery. Even Almand’s own son had died of his evil. There was something about the whole thing that felt—unsealed, uncompleted.

I was sure that Tom had had an accomplice, a partner in crime.

Once I admitted this to myself, the idea wouldn’t go away. While Tolliver talked to Barney Simpson, and Rain discussed Manfred’s injury with Dr. Thomason, I picked out the reasons I suspected this. I had them all in my head when I looked up to meet Manfred’s eyes. I felt Manfred connect with me. Suddenly Manfred said, “Mom.”

Startled, Rain turned to the bed. “What, honey? You feeling okay?”

“I’ve been thinking,” he said. “I won’t argue with you about the autopsy if you’ll let Harper touch Grandmother and tell us what she sees.”

Rain looked from Manfred to me, and I could tell from her compressed lips that she was trying to hide revulsion. She not only hadn’t fully believed in her mother’s talent, she had loathed it. “Oh, Manfred,” she said, really upset, “that won’t be necessary. And I’m sure Harper wouldn’t want to do that.”

“I’ll know how she died,” I said. “And I’m sure cheaper and less invasive than an autopsy.”

“Harper,” she said, giving me a face full of disappointment. She struggled with herself for a minute, and I felt sorry for her. Abruptly she swung toward Dr. Thomason. “Would you mind very much, Doctor? If Harper—sees—my mother?”

“No, not at all,” Dr. Thomason said. “We medical people long ago realized that there’s more to this earth than we see in our practice. If that would bring comfort to your son, and you’re agreeable…” He seemed sincere. But then, a sociopath like the one who’d killed the boys would seem very normal, right? Otherwise, people would have spotted him a long time ago.

“Have you heard anything about the boy who was taken to Asheville?” I asked.