Kat reached into her pocket and took out a photograph. “He was my father.”
Leburne had seen the photograph plenty of times before. Whenever she visited him, Kat brought it. She wasn’t sure why. Part of her hoped to reach him, but men who execute people are rarely subjected to bouts of regret. Maybe she brought it for herself somehow, to steel her own resolve, to have, in some odd way, her own father as backup.
“Who wanted him dead? It was Cozone, wasn’t it?”
Leburne kept the back of his head flat on the pillow. “Why do you keep asking me the same questions?”
“Because you never answer them.”
Monte Leburne smiled up at her with peglike teeth. Even at this distance, she could smell the decay on his breath. “And what, are you hoping for a deathbed confession?”
“There’s no reason not to tell the truth now, Monte.”
“Sure there is.”
He meant his family. That was his price, of course. Stay quiet and we will take care of your family. Open your mouth and we will hack them into small pieces.
The ultimate carrot and stick.
This had always been the problem for her. She had nothing to offer him.
You didn’t have to be a doctor to realize that Monte Leburne didn’t have much time left. Death had already nestled into a cozy spot and started clawing its way to inevitable victory. Monte’s entire being was sunken, as though he’d eventually disappear into the bed and then the floor and then, poof, completely vanish. She stared now at his right hand—his gun hand—loaded up with fat, loose veins that looked like old garden hoses. The IV was attached near his wrist.
He gritted his teeth as a fresh wave of pain coursed through. “Go,” he managed to say.
“No.” Kat could feel her last chance slipping away. “Please,” she said, trying to keep the pleading from her voice. “I need to know.”
“Go away.”
Kat leaned closer. “Listen, okay? This is just for me. Do you understand? It’s been eighteen years. I have to know the truth. That’s all. For closure. Why did he order the hit on my father?”
“Get away from me.”
“I’ll say you talked.”
“What?”
Kat nodded, trying to keep her voice firm. “The moment you die, I will arrest his ass. I will say you ratted him out. I will tell him I got a full confession from you.”
Monte Leburne smiled again. “Nice try.”
“You don’t think I’ll do it?”
“Don’t know what you’ll do. I just know no one will believe it.” Monte Leburne looked past her toward Nurse Steiner. “And I got a witness, don’t I, Sylvia?”
Nurse Steiner nodded. “I’m right here, Monte.”
A fresh roll of pain made him wince. “I’m really tired, Sylvia. It’s getting pretty bad.”
Nurse Steiner quickly moved closer to his bedside. “I’m right here, Monte.” She took his hand. What with the garish makeup, her smile looked literally painted on, like something on the face of a scary clown.
“Please make her go, Sylvia.”
“She’s leaving now.” Nurse Steiner started pressing the pump, releasing some kind of narcotic into his veins. “Just relax, Monte, okay?”
“Don’t let her stay.”
“Shhh, you’ll be fine.” Nurse Steiner gave Kat the baleful eye. “She’s as good as gone.”
Kat was about to protest, but Nurse Steiner pressed buttons on the IV box again, making the point moot anyway. Leburne’s eyes started to flutter. A few moments later, he was out cold.
• • •
A waste of time.
But then again, what had Kat expected? Even the dying man had scoffed at the idea of a deathbed confession. Cozone knew how to keep his employees quiet. You do your time, your family gets taken care of for life. You talk, everyone dies. There was no incentive to get Leburne to talk. There never had been. There certainly was none now.
Kat was just about to head back toward the car when she heard the sickly sweet voice behind her. “You handled that very poorly, dear.”
Kat turned to see Nurse Steiner standing there, looking like something out of a horror movie with the nurse getup and the paint-can makeup. “Yeah, well, thanks for your help.”
“Would you like my help?”
“Pardon?”
“He has very little remorse, you know. I mean, true remorse. A priest stops by, and he says the right words. But he doesn’t mean it. He’s just trying to bargain his way into Heaven. The Lord isn’t so easily fooled.” She gave the creepy, lipstick-on-teeth smile again. “Monte murdered many people, is that correct?”
“He confessed to killing three. There were more.”
“Including your father?”
“Yes.”
“And your father was a police officer? Like you?”
“Yes.”
Nurse Steiner made a tsk-tsk noise of sympathy. “I’m very sorry.”
Kat said nothing.
Nurse Steiner chewed on her lipsticked bottom lip for a moment. “Please follow me.”
“What?”
“You need information, am I correct?”
“Yes.”
“Please stay out of sight. Let me handle this.”
Nurse Steiner spun and started back toward the infirmary. Kat hurried to catch up. “Wait, what are you going to do?”
“Do you know anything about twilight sleep?” Nurse Steiner asked.
“Not really.”
“I started my career working for an ob-gyn doing baby deliveries. In the old days, we’d use morphine and scopolamine as anesthesia. It would produce a semi-narcotic state—the expectant mother would stay awake, but she wouldn’t really remember anything. Some say it dulled the pain. Perhaps it did, but I don’t think so. I think what happened was, the expectant mother forgot the agony she was forced to endure.” She tilted her head, like a dog hearing a strange sound. “Does pain happen if you don’t remember it?”
Kat thought that question was rhetorical, but Nurse Steiner stopped and waited for an answer. “I don’t know.”
“Think about it. For any experience, good or bad: If you don’t remember it immediately after it happens, does it really count?”
Again she waited for an answer. Again Kat said, “I don’t know.”
“Neither do I. It’s an interesting question, isn’t it?”
Where the hell was she going with this? “I guess so,” Kat said.