24 Hours. Greg Iles
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thing has affected our lives. Poisoned them.”
“Not mine. Yours! Your life.”
“For God’s sake, Margaret. The convention started tonight on the coast. We’re not there, and for one reason. Because what happened last year is still controlling us.”
Her mouth opened in shock. “You wish you were there now? My God!”
“No. But we were wrong not to go to the police a year ago. And I have a very bad feeling now. That woman told me they’d done it before, and I believed her. She said they’d done it to other doctors. They took advantage of the convention … of our separation. Margaret, what if it’s happening again? Right now?”
“Stop it!” she said in a strangled whisper. “Don’t you remember what they said? They’ll kill Peter! You want to go to the police now? A year after the fact? Don’t you know what would happen? You’re so naive!”
McDill laid both hands on the dinner table. “We’ve got to face this. We simply cannot let what happened to us happen to another family.”
“To us? What happened to you, James? You sat in a hotel room with some slut for a night. Don’t you ever think for one minute of anyone but yourself? Peter was traumatized!”
“Of course I think about Peter! But I refuse to let another child go through what he did because of our cowardice.”
Margaret wrapped her arms tight around herself and began rocking back and forth in the chair, like schizophrenics McDill had seen in medical school. “If only you hadn’t left us here alone,” she murmured. “All alone … Margaret and Peter … alone and unprotected.”
McDill fought the stab of guilt this produced. “Margaret—”
“Medical convention, my foot,” she hissed, her eyes going narrow. “It was that goddamned car show.”
“Margaret, please—”
He fell silent as their eleven-year-old son appeared in the dining room door. Peter was a pale, thin boy, and his eyes never settled in one place long.
“What’s the matter?” he asked timidly. “Why are you guys yelling?”
“Just a misunderstanding, son. I had a tough surgery today, and we were discussing some tax problems. I lost my temper. Nothing for you to worry about. What time are you going over to Jimmy’s?”
“His dad is picking me up in a minute.”
Margaret took a gulp of wine and said, “Are you sure you want to spend the night over there tonight, darling?”
“Yeah. Unless … unless you don’t want me to.”
“I like having my baby under this roof,” Margaret cooed.
“Nonsense,” said McDill. “Go have some fun, son. You’ve been studying too hard this week.”
A car horn sounded outside.
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