dying elephant that in field research jargon was identified only as Male 40, or M40. The researchers tracked M40âs last tortured walk to a clearing, where during the elephantâs final agonized hours they witnessed behavior that scientists had never before seen. As M40 lay there, helpless and unable to stand, the younger males whoâd followed him began, one by one, to mount him in a spirited show of dominance.
Heâd laughed when Silverwood posted the story on the department bulletin board and scribbled, âMake reservaÂtions now for Grady Downingâs retirement party!â Heâd even laughed when somebody left the little brass M40 on his desk two days later. But nobody ever took credit, which he thought gave the whole thing a darker, meaner edge. Truth be told, it cut close to the bone.
His wife answered after the tenth ring, like she always did from bed on the nights he forgot to call.
âVery nice, Grady.â He knew the rasp in her voice.
âYou asleep already? Itâsâ¦â He checked his watch again, as though she could see the gesture. âJesus, Trix, Iâm sorry. Just gotââ
âForget it.â
How many nights had they had this conversation? How many times had she tamped her anger and disappointment down with that simple response and rolled over again into fitful sleep? How long until she went berserk some night and carved his heart out while he dozed on the couch?
âHeâs killing again.â He paused, waiting for a prompt.
None came. He knew sheâd need no explanation or context, so he just continued. âAbout an hour from here, in Greene County. Near Outcrop.â
âI wondered. Not Primenyl again?â
âNo, but cyanide.â
Silence. Ten seconds. Twenty. Heâd meant to tell her in person; now he knew he should have.
âWhat are you thinking?â The tremble in her voice told him this was going to be tough.
Deep breath. âStill waiting for more details. But if it looks like Corbett was involved, Iâm going to DeLillo with my repressed-memories idea. Or maybe Iâll just take it straight to Kiger.â
âThe chief? DeLillo will love that.â
âGoing over his head would be tricky, but I may have to. Kiger wasnât here in â86, so Iâve got no baggage with him.â
No reaction. And he needed to talk. Proceed with caution.
âGot five months left, Trix. And I think Kigerâll go for it, especially if I can convince him Corbettâs involved in this one. But Iâll argue to reopen even if heâs not convinced. We know a lot more about how memory works than we did in â86. Corbettâs wife is still around. Soâs Sonny, his youngest kid. Trix, they must have known what went on in that house. Maybe if I can get them thinking about it again, itâll nudge them enough. Iâm sure the memories are in there. Getting them out is the tricky part.â
âGradyââ
âIt was like somebody dropped a bomb on that family, Trix. The killings start, and within a couple weeks three of the four family members are a few shrimp short of a cocktail? You tell me what the fuck they saw Corbett doing.â
The line hummed, electronic silence.
âHowâs it going to end?â she said, her voice flat but not emotionless. It made him uncomfortable, mostly because he wasnât sure what she meant. âAfter itâs over, are you ready to deal with it either way? Win or lose?â
âTrixââ
âI mean, if you reopen this case, Grady, it could happen to you all over again. And Iâm not sure I can help you through it this time. I never understood why you got so involved, because it never happened before or since. But I see it happening again. The way you talked just now. It takes you over. I know part of you died with those people, but you did your job. You just canât make witnesses out of clay. You canât
Legs McNeil, Jennifer Osborne, Peter Pavia