After another minute of listening to Sam’s persistent humming, Andrew said, “What if I changed my mind? I mean about the lawyer?”

Lucy smiled. “Well, you do that, then we can talk. Clear this right up.”

I thought I saw Andrew check on Sam in the outside mirror before he said, “Well, what, what is it that you want to know?”

Lucy said, “How about we start with your visit to your brother-in-law’s house on Friday afternoon? Start there.”

Andrew seemed to be considering his next move. I watched Sam. He had stopped humming, and his muscles had tensed. I figured he was anticipating Andrew trying to bolt out of the car.

Andrew pressed hard on both of his temples. “Oh God. You know I was there, huh? Damn it. Well, it’s not what you think. It isn’t. I didn’t do it. I didn’t kill him.” After a pause of about three seconds, he added, “Not really.”

Not really?

Lucy said, “Just a moment, Andrew,” and gave the sweetest rendition of Miranda I figured I would ever hear. She pulled out a small tape recorder, started it, and dictated an introduction. She faced Andrew and said, “Now tell me all about it.”

“I’ve been planning to call you guys-I have, really. I mean if that girl was arrested, I would have called. I would have, really.”

He was pathetic. I almost felt sorry for him.

“Here’s what happened. This is the absolute truth. Okay? Okay? You believe me?”

Lucy smiled. A perfect touch with Andrew. For him, it was as though he were confessing an indiscretion to his date.

“Ed called me Friday afternoon and told me to come right over. I mean, he summoned me, the ass. I’m getting a divorce-Abby, my wife, and his wife, Beth, are sisters-and I figured he just wanted to play patriarch and put pressure on me about the divorce and the custody and everything. I was tempted not to go, but I finally decided I would drive over and listen to him and then tell the prick to butt out. Okay?”

Lucy said, “I’m with you so far.”

“He said the doorbell wasn’t working, that he’d leave the front door open, that I should just come in. He’d be downstairs in his office.”

“The ‘he’ you’re talking about is your brother-in-law, Edward Robilio?”

“Yes, that’s right. Ed Robilio. I go in. I go downstairs. I call his name. Nothing. I go into his office and he’s sitting there in his leather chair, uh-I don’t know any other way to put it-he’s, well, he’s…half dead. He has a hole in his chest, there’s blood all over him, there’s a gun on the floor. Immediately I think there’s been a burglary, that he’s been shot. But I know he’s not dead. His eyes are following me and his breathing sounds like bad plumbing.

“It’s like he knows what I’m thinking. He manages to say, ‘No nine-one-one.’ But his breathing is awful, he can barely talk. I can’t understand him and I say, ‘What?’

“He says, ‘I did this. No nine-one-one.’

“I didn’t get it. Finally he’s able to say, ‘Suicide.’

“And he begs me to finish him off. He’s too badly injured to get to the gun. Wants me to do it for him. I want to call an ambulance. He says no. I mean, he’s like begging me.”

Lucy goads him. She says, “Your big shot brother-in-law is begging you?”

“That was a first, let me tell you. I didn’t know what to do. I almost left, but I was afraid the jerk would live, survive, you know, and blame it on me. I mean, the shooting. So I…I picked up his gun and I aimed it and I, I couldn’t do it. I put the gun back down and started to walk away. Behind me, I hear this awful gurgle, then clear as a bell, he says, ‘Please.’

“I couldn’t leave him like that. I went back over, and I picked up the pistol again. I held it out like this-” he stretched his arm and turned his head as though he were holding a soiled diaper “-and I closed my eyes and I counted to five and I pulled the trigger. I didn’t even look at him again. I turned my back and I listened for a minute-a full minute, I counted to sixty-to make sure he wasn’t gurgling anymore. I wiped the gun with my handkerchief and dropped it back down in the blood by the chair. And I left the same way I came in.

“That’s the truth.”

Five minutes later, Sam and I climbed out of Lucy’s car and walked back over to his Ford. We watched a patrol car arrive and two officers move a handcuffed Andrew into the backseat for a ride over to Thirty-third Street. Lucy stayed in the Volvo. I assumed that she was going to go home first, that she’d want to slip out of her little black dress before arriving at the police department to finish booking Andrew.

The cruiser pulled away.

Sam asked rhetorically, “You see this coming? I think I’ve seen it all and then, you know, I get bushwhacked. Who’d have thought that Ed was too vain to kill himself with a nice reliable head shot? Remember the coroner thought the bullet might have done some spinal cord damage? Well, apparently the coroner was right.”

“You believe Andrew?”

“Except for the part about his concern about Merritt, I’m tempted to. You?”

“I guess. So when Robilio called Andrew to come over, it wasn’t because he wanted to discuss the divorce but because he wanted Andrew to be the one to discover his body? He didn’t want his wife to find him?”

“Yeah, I imagine that was it. Kind of hostile to Andrew, don’t you think? I mean, the way I look at it, Andrew had three choices, right? He could have left Ed to die. Some would argue that that would have been hostile. He could have called an ambulance. Some would argue that, given the circumstances, that would have been hostile. Or Andrew could pick up the gun and shoot his brother-in-law to death while he’s claiming he’s really as benevolent as Saint Francis. I say, no matter what you’re thinking, you shoot somebody you think is an asshole in the face, that’s kind of hostile.”

Thirty-eight

I woke without my alarm the next morning, feeling an unfamiliar confidence that triumph and tragedy had finally traded places and that life was about to resume its usual precarious balance. I drove to Children’s early, met briefly with Merritt, dictated a discharge summary, and signed Merritt’s discharge order. Although I felt more hopeful about Merritt’s legal situation than I had since I’d seen the bloody clothes, I didn’t tell her about Andrew’s confession. The Boulder police had a lot of confirming to do. I would let Merritt’s Uncle Sam be the bearer of all those good tidings.

Sam arrived at the unit right when he said he would and squirreled Merritt out of the hospital through a side exit, successfully avoiding a crush of media that, to my dismay, had somehow been alerted to her pending discharge and who were intent on chronicling her journey to join her sister in Seattle. While I rushed back to my house to prepare for my flight to see Lauren, Sam drove his niece to the Trent home in Boulder and waited while she packed some things for her trip to rejoin her family.

Reluctantly, I had agreed to drive to the Denver airport with Sam and Merritt. Transporting patients to airports was an ethical quagmire I would rather not have waded into, but the discharge team had convinced me that Merritt needed chaperoning until she was safely in Seattle and I convinced myself that it would give me a good opportunity to observe Merritt and test out the wisdom of releasing her from the hospital.

With his wife gone, Sam was playing single parent to Simon, and Lucy had either volunteered or been cajoled by Sam into spending her day off accompanying Merritt the rest of the way to Washington. While Sam was getting Merritt home from the hospital, Lucy was watching Simon. Since she would need her car to get back from DIA after she completed her round trip that evening, Lucy and Simon were going to meet us at the airport.

Merritt and Lucy’s flight to Washington was scheduled to depart an hour and fifteen minutes before mine. I sat in the backseat of Sam’s car on the drive to the airport. The time I observed between Sam and his niece was playful and lighthearted, as they argued the relative merits of his love, hockey, and hers, basketball. Merritt finally agreed to go to an Avalanche game with her uncle, and I felt a stab of loss that I might not be accompanying Sam to any playoff games. Sam promised not to miss a basketball game next season at Boulder High. Watching the two of them banter, I realized these were the first jovial moments I recalled experiencing from the moment days ago that Lauren had received the phone call that her mother was sick.