“A-D-J dash four . . . ?” he said, writing it down.

“Yes. I mean, how many plates can possibly begin like that? And registered for a blue sedan?”

“Don’t get your hopes up totally. The car could have been stolen.”

“I know. I know. Believe me . . .” I’d taken two cars myself in the past day. “But it’s a start. It’s all I have as a start, Marv. It has to lead somewhere . . .”

“I’ll try, Henry, I’ll try . . . Listen . . .” He lowered his voice. “I’m sure I’m not the first one to say this to you, but maybe the best course of action is simply to turn yourself in. Let the police pursue this. We’re living in America, Henry, not Syria. If you didn’t do this, the truth will come out.”

“The police up here seem to be shooting first and asking questions later. You ever been shot at, Marv?”

“No,” he said. “I can’t say that I have. Then how about making your way down here. We’ll find you the best representation. Then we can look for your car—”

“Listen, Marv . . .” Hard as it was, I couldn’t find a way to tell him about Hallie; about what had happened to her. “I’m sure if the tables were turned, I’d probably be telling you the very same thing. But I can’t. Something’s happened and I can’t. And I can’t even share it with you. I know that sounds crazy. You just have to trust me. Not to mention that even if I could—two murders, one of them of a cop—with my means and ability to flee, I wouldn’t be getting bail anytime soon. Half the Jacksonville police force saw me in cuffs in the backseat of Martinez’s car. They don’t have any doubts it’s me.”

“Cuffs . . . ?”

“There’s no way to explain it.” And I couldn’t now. No time. I just went through it as fast as I could. Just enough so Marv could feel the nightmare I’d been through. “Which brings me back to that car . . .”

“Okay. Let me go. So how do I get in touch with you?”

“I’m going to give you a safe number. Or text me. On my cell. I’ll call you back.”

“All right, all right. I’ll get on it right now. But, Henry, you have to promise me you’ll stay out of sight until I can get back to you. Then we’ll figure out a way.”

“I’m not exactly a pro at this, but I’m learning fast. You have no idea what this means to me. I knew I could count on you, Marv. And hey, at least there’s one good thing I can think of that’s come out of this mess.”

“What’s that?” Marv replied dubiously.

“You remember a couple of years ago when we were going back and forth about what to name the clinics?”

“Yeah, I remember . . .”

“Now aren’t you glad I convinced you not to put my name over the front door?”

Chapter Twenty-Three

I wasn’t sure what to do while I waited, other than stay out of sight. I snuck into the men’s room at a Wendy’s and washed up. I was gritted out and had no idea how long it would take for Marv to get back to me. Or what the result would be when he did.

Or even what I would do once he found something.

Every time a police car passed by, if they did an electrocardiogram on me my heart rate would be off the paper!

Around 10 A.M., going out of my mind, I finally decided, The hell with it! I did have one other option.

I called the Jacksonville Sheriff’s Office and said to the operator, “Carrie Holmes, please.”

Yesterday, I detected the slightest wavering in her voice, and right now my book was pretty empty on whom I could trust. I wasn’t sure what I would say if a secretary answered or if her voice mail came on, but to my relief, Carrie picked up.

“Community Outreach. Carrie Holmes . . .”

“Guess the glory days are over,” I said. “Back to the same ol’ grind . . .” Then I immediately felt foolish for being so glib.

I was met by a lengthy silence on the line. “Who is this?”

“Carrie, please, don’t hang up! Or alert anyone,” I said. “I just need to tell you something, without worrying if you’re tracing this and that I have to hang up. Can we do that, for just a second?”

She still didn’t say anything; just let the call go on in silence. I figured I’d misjudged her.

“Carrie, please, I know what you’re about to do, but I found something that can help prove my innocence. I know you’d be taking a risk, but just hear me out. Just for a second. I don’t have anywhere else to turn . . .”

Still more silence.

Then she said, “Yeah, back to the same ol’ grind . . . Dr. Steadman, you should not be calling me,” which felt like kind of a miracle, momentarily putting my worries at ease.

“Just give me a second!” I said. “So did you do what I asked? Did you try to find that car? The blue sedan I told you about yesterday. With South Carolina plates . . . ?”

“Dr. Steadman, I told you yesterday, I think you have to turn yourself in,” she replied in a lowered, but firm voice. “If you don’t, things are going to go very badly for you. I think you’ve seen that already. And I honestly can’t be talking to you, other than to say—”

“You didn’t, did you?” I interrupted her. “You didn’t look for it?”

She didn’t answer right away. I heard her release a breath. “No.”

I let out one myself. “So are you tracing this?” I suddenly didn’t know why I had thought to put myself in her hands and realized I should end the call immediately. But I didn’t. “Just tell me. If you are. I don’t know why, but I have this sense you’re the only one there I can trust.”

“You’ve got no cause to trust me. I work for the sheriff’s office, Dr. Steadman. I’m not on your private security team . . . And I’m not your confidante.”

“So are you tracing me?” I asked her again. Then I waited. I felt something strangely empathetic in her tone. “Look, I’m gonna put myself in your hands, Carrie. Right or wrong. Maybe I’m stupid. I’m gonna tell you something that can help clear my name. Just please tell me, are you tracing this call?”

She didn’t answer.

But I knew what the answer was. She had to trace it. It was her responsibility. And as I checked the time I figured that gave me maybe about another minute and a half before I had to cut it short and move on.

“So how long do I have,” I asked, “a couple of minutes . . . ? Then just hear me out. Why the hell would I kill those people, Carrie? Why would I kill my own friend? We were going to play golf, for Christ’s sake. I’d known him since college. He was a lawyer! The only reason I even went to his house was to get his help in turning me in. Check—I made two calls to him from my cell phone immediately after Martinez was killed. But he was dead by the time I got there. I realize I took his phone and his car—and how that makes me look. But I needed to get out of there and there was no other way. And my phone was compromised. And who the hell was going to believe me anyway after what happened to Martinez?”

She didn’t reply. The clock was ticking.

“And I told you, yesterday, that I was back in my car when Martinez was shot. He was letting me go; just writing me up a warning . . . You can check that too. What possible reason would I have for shooting someone if they were about to let me go? Not to mention, with what gun? Last I checked, they didn’t let you keep one on you when you traveled by plane. Has anyone given three seconds thought to that?”

“You could have ditched the gun when you say you took off after the car,” Carrie said.

“But I didn’t. And how would I get one? Did I know in advance that Martinez was going to pull me over?”

“So then turn yourself in, Dr. Steadman. To me, since you seem to trust me. I’ll make sure you’re treated fairly. You’ve done wonderful things. In Nicaragua. You built a school there. I saw your daughter’s photos—” She suddenly stopped herself, as if she’d revealed too much.