“Right now the jury’s thinking about that video recording,” I say into the phone, “and how Viola was panicking and begging for Dad’s help.”

“Yep,” Rusty says, pausing the tape. “We’re getting close to your house now. Keep listening. Not much left.”

“Two, there was something at the scene the doctor needed to destroy as soon as possible.”

“The videotape Viola made for Henry,” I say.

“Bingo,” says Rusty.

“Why hasn’t Shad mentioned that specifically? He didn’t even bring it up in his opening statement.”

“He will, don’t worry. Listen to the end.”

“Three, someone arrived on the scene, or was about to arrive—a family member who would ‘raise a stink,’ as you suggested—and the doctor didn’t have the nerve to brazen it out in front of that person.”

“Lincoln,” I mutter. “Cora testified that Dad knew Lincoln was on his way to Natchez from Chicago.”

“Yep,” Rusty says in an emotionless voice.

“Do any of those scenarios sound reasonable to you, Doctor?”

“I wouldn’t know about the doctor needing to destroy anything. But the other two scenarios sound reasonable. I’ve seen families accuse a doctor of murder after a death. But still, this doctor would know that once he ran, an autopsy would almost certainly be performed. That’s a big risk.”

“Is it? If he claimed that the adrenaline was used to resuscitate her? Used successfully?”

“It would be a stretch, medically speaking. I still think the easiest and smartest thing by far—for a doctor meaning to kill his patient—would be to stay on the scene, call the ambulance after the patient expired, and brazen it out. That would almost certainly be the end of it—legally speaking.”

“But that would require a great deal of nerve, Doctor. And the physician in this case is no longer a man in his prime with little to lose. Further, his reasons for panic fall outside the realm of your medical expertise, so I’ll now turn you over to the tender mercies of the counsel for the defense.”

“Do you believe this?” Rusty says angrily. “He’s daring Quentin to cross-examine the guy. But by now he’s positive that Quentin won’t. Shad is mocking Quentin Avery, man! I could never have imagined it. We’re a block away from your house. There’s only one thing left.”

“Let me hear it.”

“Your witness.”

“Mr. Johnson, one other scenario just occurred to me.”

I can tell by the delay before Shad’s reply that the medical examiner has jumped off script. But if Shad doesn’t let him say whatever he wants to say, Quentin might well roll out from behind his table and offer Dr. Phillips the opportunity. Any competent attorney would. I’ve been in this situation myself, and I know Shad has little choice but to let his witness speak, and hope for the best.