“How long ago was that?”
Scotty checked the wall clock. “Twenty-seven minutes ago.”
Bill turned to Thatcher. “Do you want to wait to confront Driscoll until we have more time?”
“Do you?”
By way of an answer, Bill said to Scotty, “When the Rangers come back, tell them we’re trying to squeeze a confession out of a prisoner, and ask them to cool their heels a while longer.”
“The governor?”
“Suggest he have a drink.” Bill pushed open the door leading into the cell block. Thatcher followed him and closed the door behind them.
Driscoll was fit to be tied. “Where is my lawyer? What the hell is going on out there? It sounds like a carnival. I’ve been yelling for someone to get in here, but I’ve been ignored.” Glaring at Thatcher, his voice went shrill. “And why is he still wearing a badge when he should be in here instead of me?”
In contrasting calmness, Bill said, “Because he’s not a murder suspect, Gabe.”
“I did not attack Norma. I would never have done that.”
“No, we don’t think you did. The patients on your rural route vouched for your whereabouts during the time frame when she was assaulted.”
“Then why am I still locked up?”
“Because you killed Mila. Didn’t you?”
“No.” He gave an obstinate shake of his head.
“Did you plan it with Norma, or did you act alone?”
“I did not kill my wife.”
Disregarding the denial, Bill said, “I think Mrs. Driscoll’s body was in the car with you when you went to Lefty’s. Eleanor Wise just missed you loading it because you had parked around back.”
Up till then, Thatcher had let Bill do all the talking. Now, he said, “I can’t figure the murder weapon.”
“Good point,” Gabe said tightly. “Sheriff, are you listening? What did you use, Hutton?”
Unfazed, Thatcher said, “No obvious weapon was found inside the house. Either you used something commonplace that wouldn’t be considered a weapon, or you took the weapon with you and tossed it somewhere along the way to Lefty’s, or you buried it with Mrs. Driscoll’s body at Pointer’s Gap.”
“I didn’t—”
“And why Pointer’s Gap?” Thatcher continued. “It’s rugged country.”
“You would know, wouldn’t you?” Driscoll sneered. “You took Mila from our house that night and took her out there—”
“In what, Gabe?”
His head swiveled back to Bill. “What?”
“Thatcher was on foot. How would he have gotten her out there?”
Before the doctor could respond, Thatcher picked back up. “Why did you choose Pointer’s Gap?”
“I didn’t! I’ve never even been there.”
“What about the picnics with your wife?”
Driscoll looked at Bill. “What is he talking about?”