Twenty-Seven
“Do you believe him?”
We were outside the hospital when I spoke.
“About what?” Helen asked.
“Shepp. Do you believe him?”
She thought and shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know. All the evidence is circumstantial. We don’t have any other witnesses. He could be telling the truth. But by his own words he had motive and opportunity.”
“But John’s not a killer.”
“He was a soldier, right? He’s killed before.”
“That’s different. That was in war. This—he’s not capable of cold blooded murder. I know him.”
“Tom,” she jabbed a finger in my chest. “He was your best friend, obsessed with your wife, but watched while you were attacked and she was murdered. He just admitted not caring if you lived or died. Would you have guessed that?”
I paused and shook my head. “No, I wouldn’t have
