Chapters (86)
- Cover
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- Prologue
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- ThursdayChapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- FridayChapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- SaturdayChapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- SundayChapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- MondayChapter 20
- Chapter 21
- TuesdayChapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- Chapter 32
- Chapter 33
- Chapter 34
- Chapter 35
- WednesdayChapter 36
- Chapter 37
- Chapter 38
- Chapter 39
- Chapter 40
- Chapter 41
- Chapter 42
- Chapter 43
- Chapter 44
- Chapter 45
- Chapter 46
- Chapter 47
- Chapter 48
- ThursdayChapter 49
- Chapter 50
- Chapter 51
- Chapter 52
- Chapter 53
- Chapter 54
- Chapter 55
- Chapter 56
- Chapter 57
- Chapter 58
- Chapter 59
- Chapter 60
- Chapter 61
- FridayChapter 62
- Chapter 63
- Chapter 64
- Chapter 65
- Chapter 66
- Chapter 67
- Chapter 68
- Chapter 69
- Chapter 70
- Chapter 71
- Chapter 72
- Chapter 73
- Chapter 74
- Chapter 75
- Chapter 76
- Chapter 77
- Epilogue
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
- Also by Greg Iles
- About the Publisher
“Could an elderly physician with severely restricted hand mobility make such a mistake with a simple injection, Dr. Phillips?”
“Of course. Even young physicians with healthy hands miss veins, or punch through them. Especially veins that have been worn out by toxic chemotherapy agents.”
“Do physicians under great stress tend to make more mistakes than those who are not?”
“The statistics support that. But physicians are trained to operate under stressful conditions. That’s the nature of the job.”
“What if the stress were psychological and deeply personal? Unrelated to the job?”
“Severe stress of that type would increase the odds of making a mistake for any physician, as it would for any professional attempting to do his job.”
“But Dr. Cage would have seen that the morphine was not killing his patient, would he not?”
“If he stayed at the scene. Did he stay at the scene?”
“Let me ask the questions, Dr. Phillips. Would it have been to Dr. Cage’s advantage to stay at the scene? If his goal was to murder the patient and not be found out?”
“Well, of course. If he had stayed at the scene, then Mrs. Turner would have died under a doctor’s care. No autopsy would have been required. If he wanted to kill her, or murder her, he’d have been home free. Unless the family raised a stink.”
The question of whether or not Dad was present at Viola’s house during her death comprises the central hole in Shad’s case, and to my knowledge, no evidence proves that he was. The idea that Quentin would let this kind of leading questioning proceed without objecting is simply beyond me.
“How long after the botched morphine injection would it have taken for a doctor at the scene to realize the drug was not killing his patient?”
“That’s hard to say. It depends on a lot of factors, and a patient’s morphine tolerance can’t be determined after death.”
“Can you make an educated guess?”
“Between ten and thirty minutes. With as little morphine as got into her bloodstream, Mrs. Turner might have remained conscious the whole time, or she might have awakened after only a few minutes of sedation.”
“All right. Why would a doctor administer adrenaline after seeing that the morphine was not having its intended effect? Would he do it to resuscitate her? To try to bring her back to life?”
This question is improper on so many grounds that I wouldn’t know where to begin to object. Shad is obviously implying to the jury that Dad injected the adrenaline, when he has presented no evidence that he did so. Yet Quentin does not object!