“No. But I think she was just being modest. The rumor was pretty widely believed back in sixty-eight.”

“You’re talking about hearsay, Mr. Sexton. Even if such a rape occurred in 1968, the statute of limitations would have run out on that crime in 1975. No one could be prosecuted for it today.”

“There’s no statute of limitations on murder,” Henry said doggedly.

Johnson sighed. “I reviewed those case files, what little there was. Nobody ever found Jimmy Revels’s body. Luther Davis’s, either. You spend too much time living in the past, Henry.”

The reporter felt his shoulders sag. “A lot of people say that.”

“You can’t even see the obvious. If those Double Eagles were still active, they’d have killed you, not some nurse already circling the drain.” The DA shook his head like a man weary of dealing with a fool. “You’re free to go. I need to make some phone calls.”

Henry packed his computer into his briefcase and left the office.

CHAPTER 9

AFTER ROSE CLEARED my calendar of all noncritical appointments, I began researching legal precedents in cases similar to the circumstances Shad had described regarding Viola Turner’s death. One call to a law school friend in New Orleans confirmed what Shad had told me earlier: Anna Pou, a highly respected EENT physician, might well be charged with murder for organizing the euthanization of eleven patients who couldn’t be evacuated during the worst hours of the Katrina flood. While the circumstances of that case and my father’s are clearly different, what chilled my blood was my friend’s assertion that the prosecution was politically motivated.

Enter Shad Johnson.

The fact that Dad has refused to give me any information about last night’s events is disturbing, yet it makes sense if he played some part in a physician-assisted suicide. In most similar situations, when someone makes a stink about the circumstances of death, common sense eventually prevails and no charges are filed. Based on the percentages, I should be able to assume that Viola’s son will soon realize that his mother’s wishes should trump all else. And yet … the longer I sit at my desk, the more intuition whispers that something out of the ordinary is happening. On impulse, I call the Illinois State Bar Association and inquire about Lincoln Turner. The woman I speak to informs me that four months ago, Turner’s law license was suspended pending a disbarment proceeding. She won’t elaborate on the phone, but a Nexis online search quickly tells me that he’s been accused of embezzling funds from a client escrow account. This is the sterling character accusing my father of murder.