Free The Survivors by Robert Palmer Page A

to the balcony were ajar. Scottie was out there, asleep in one of the sling chairs. As I watched, he twitched and mumbled something. A bad dream. I eased the doors shut and took my coffee to the living room.
    During the night, I kept thinking about those papers of Scottie’s, wondering what other information was there. I took them out of his backpack.
    There were more bank and phone records and credit card bills. Too much detail for a quick run-through. Lower in the stack I came to four stapled reports. The top one said, “Examiner’s Autopsy, Final—Alan Ryan Oakes.” I skipped a few pages in and found diagrams of a human skull, marked with x’s to show the entry and exit points for the bullet that killed my brother. My eyes swam. The other autopsies were for my parents and Ron. Maybe someday I’d be able to face them, but not yet.
    I moved on until I came to a faded sheet. It was a receipt from a shop in Sterling, Virginia—AllPro Sports. Under “Purchaser” was the name Lori Tran. She’d bought a Smith & Wesson 586 revolver for three hundred eighty-five dollars.
    Scottie shuffled in with a cup of coffee. I’d been concentrating so hard I hadn’t heard him come in from the balcony. He sat down next to me on the sofa.
    â€œWhat’s this receipt for?” I said.
    â€œLori Tran was a friend of your mother’s, her hairdresser. She bought the gun for her.”
    â€œI always wondered where she got it,” I said. “Why Virginia? And why not buy it herself?”
    â€œThere’s no waiting period for handgun purchases in Virginia.” He laughed at my surprised look. I hadn’t really expected him to know the answer. “That was in one of the newspaper stories. Your mother lived in Maryland, so she couldn’t buy a handgun in Virginia. Tran lived over there—in Herndon, I think. Your mom offered her five hundred dollars; Tran said yes. She ended up doing a year of probation for it.”
    Five hundred dollars. That would have been nearly half of what was in the bank account. Had we always lived so close to the edge? I remembered Christmas, birthdays. There were never any complaints about money.
    I put the page back with the rest while he yawned and took a swig of coffee.
    â€œDid you have a good night?” I said.
    â€œGood enough.”
    â€œYou sleep outdoors a lot of the time?”
    â€œSometimes,” he mumbled.
    So he didn’t talk much in the morning. I could relate to that. “I’ll get us some breakfast. There’s a spare towel under the sink in the bathroom if you want to take a shower.”
    He nodded and stared glumly at the floor.
    â€œWe’ll work it out with the FBI, Scottie. I don’t think you should go to work today, though. Let me make some calls, see what I can find out.”
    â€œWhatever you say.” He smiled, but it wasn’t very convincing.
    When I heard the shower come on, I took my phone out to the balcony. It was too early to call my lawyer friend. Besides, I had another problem to deal with first. I didn’t think I should leave Scottie alone today. Felix would be up, in his sunroom reading the newspaper.
    â€œYeah, who is it?” he said when he picked up.
    The whole world seemed in a lousy mood today. “Good morning to you too.”
    â€œCal—sorry. Couldn’t think who the hell would be calling this time of day.”
    â€œI need a favor. Scottie Glass came by my place last night and ended up staying over. He’s pretty upset about the FBI thing.”
    â€œHe’s just going to have to—”
    I talked over the top of him. “I’ve got an idea to try to help him. I’m going to need the day to put things together. Can I leave him with you?”
    â€œYou think I’m some kind of boarding kennel?”
    I stayed quiet, letting it lie there.
    Felix huffed into the phone. “He can stay until I say he’s got to