“My soul…” Waterson looked away.

Farrell Gaynor folded his arms. “You make a good living, Mr. Waterson. You want to tell us how you got so far in the hole?”

Waterson gave Gaynor a steely glance. “I don’t believe I have to answer that. I don’t believe I have to answer any more of your questions.”

“You’re going to talk to us one way or the other. You want a mouthpiece…” Martinez handed him the phone. “I’ve always said, be my guest.”

Waterson looked at the phone, but didn’t move.

Gaynor said, “You won’t tell us about your financial woes, I’ll tell you about them. Your wife, Ellen, underwent treatment for renal cancer. Unsuccessful treatment. Eventually, both kidneys came out. She had two transplants that failed. You blamed Azor for that, didn’t you?”

“Never—”

“Then your medical insurance topped out,” Gaynor continued. “Four more years of expensive out-of-pocket dialysis. And during this terrible time in your life, Azor’s just raking it in—”

“You’re despicable.”

“Are you sure you don’t mean Azor’s despicable?”

Foam gathered at the corner of Waterson’s mouth. “He was despicable—a sinner and a pervert.”

Webster said, “I was taught Jesus loves all His children.”

“Not those who mock His words. Pray fervently in public and debase in private.”

Kent’s voice was soothing. “I know it’s hard, Mr. Waterson. Hard to watch the wicked prosper while the righteous suffer.”

The room went quiet.

“You did what you thought was right,” Kent said. “In your eyes, in God’s eyes. But the law doesn’t see it like that, sir. And the law’s going to punish you severely. You might lose your life unless you do something to help yourself.”

Tears spilled down Waterson’s cheeks. “I don’t need help. I didn’t do anything.”

“You did do something, Mr. Waterson,” Martinez said. “We all here know you did do something. You contracted murder—”

“No…” Waterson shook his head. “No, it wasn’t supposed to happen like that.”

“But that’s how it happened.”

Martinez said, “How much did you pay them?”

Waterson was quiet.

“I got receipts from your account,” Gaynor spoke up. “Which match up nicely with money that had been withdrawn from Dolly Sparks’s account. Ten grand in and out right before Azor died. Ten grand in and out right after Azor died. And for good measure, a final ten withdrawn just last Friday—the day after Dr. Reginald Decameron died.”

Waterson wiped tears from his cheek. “Abominations before the Lord. Both of them.”

“How’d you find out about Azor’s inclinations?” Webster asked.

Waterson lowered his head. “Azor had called me…to talk about estate planning. At least, that’s what he said. A strange call because his affairs seemed to be in order.”

A long pause.