by Cathy Roberts
Roland remained seated on the bed until he was sure that John was asleep and not just closing his eyes in an effort to make him go away. He felt betrayed by his brother-in-law and wished like Hell that he had been the one responsible for his death. He also felt that he had let his youngest son down. A father had a duty to protect his children, to keep them from all harm. He had failed to do that. How could he have continually put John in Joe's clutches? Remembering what Bobby had written down, Roland knew that the abuse had gone on for years. He couldn't come close to imagining what John must have been going through during that time. The thoughts that must have run through his mind. Had he hoped and prayed that Joe would just stop on his own? Or maybe he kept hoping that his Daddy would find out about the abuse and put a stop to it? Either way, neither option had happened. And now Joe was dead and Roland had no way to tell him just what he thought about him. He wanted to rip him apart, but the reality was that Joe Thielen was now beyond pain and retribution. The only ones hurting now were his victims, and Roland had a bad feeling that they all were going to be hurting for a long time. A very long time.
When Roland returned upstairs, he sat down by his wife. He reached out to take her hand in his, wanting some type of comfort.
"How is he?" Maureen asked.
"He's asleep."
Kerry nodded. "I didn't want to sedate him enough to put him out immediately, but I was sure that once he was calm that he would find it easier to drift off."
"How long has he been like this?" Maureen asked.
"I'm not exactly sure what you mean," Kerry replied. "Like this as in very upset or like this as in talking to someone or something that only he can see?"
"Both," Roland answered.
"He's been edgy since the day his uncle died. The man was brought to our emergency room, but John didn't recognize him. Not through any fault of his own though. There wasn't enough of a face to recognize. As for the other, this evening is the first indication I've had that he thinks a ghost is haunting him. Although, there have been some things he's said and done that make more sense now that I know."
Clark cleared his throat. "I'm done with the door, so I think I'll be leaving now. That way the three of you can talk without being afraid of revealing something that might be incriminating."
"I'll see you to the door," Kerry walked him to the doorway. "Thank you for all of your help."
"It was no problem at all, Kerry. You know, when this is all over, I really would like to go out to dinner with you. Do I stand a chance of having you accept my invitation?"
"I'm not sure. I think my answer will depend a lot on how you conduct this investigation. I'm not very forgiving when people I care about get hurt, Clark."
"And you care about John Carter," it was a statement, not a question.
"Yes, I do. Not in a romantic sense, but I do care about him."
"Well, then I guess I'll just have to wait in order to get my answer. Call me if you need me for anything."
"Thanks for the offer, but I have John here."
"Kerry, John is bigger than you. If he should...lose all touch with reality, you will need help."
"That's not going to happen, Clark."
They regarded each other for a few moments, both sure that the other was wrong.
"Well, good night, Kerry." Earlier he had put the old door out on the sidewalk and now he picked it up so he could haul it away.
"Thank you again, Clark." She watched him put the door in the bed of his pick up truck, then get into the cab. She returned to the living room where Roland and Maureen were quietly talking.
"John never did agree to go into therapy. He needs help in dealing with all of this." Kerry sat down.
"We were just talking about that. I know he saw someone for a short time after Dennis Gant died. She worked at the same hospital, but I don't know her name." Roland said.
"I believe that was Nina Pomerantz. She was the psychiatrist who was asked to counsel Dennis' friends and co-workers after his death. A few people from the E.R. staff saw her as well. She's no longer working at County, but she's still in the Chicago area. I think that John might feel more comfortable speaking with someone he already knows," Kerry said.
Roland and Maureen nodded. When Bobby had died they had been encouraged to put Barbara and John into counseling for a short time. In John's case it had been a very short time indeed because he refused to talk to the therapist. At the time, Maureen had thought he was being stubborn and Roland had felt that John didn't need grief counseling. Now they knew that he had felt responsible for Bobby's death.
Roland groaned. "I just can't imagine what it's been like for him to carry around guilt for a death that he didn't cause." He rested his head in his hands. "I can't imagine what any of this has been like for him. It seems that the more I try to envision how he must have felt, the more I feel overwhelmed by it all."
"Mr. Carter, it might not be a bad idea for you and Mrs. Carter to seek counseling as well. I'm sure that the two of you are going to be having trouble dealing with your feelings right now," Kerry gently suggested. What she really thought would be helpful would be for them to attend sessions with John, but she kept quiet about that. The most important thing was to get John into counseling.
Maureen nodded. "You're right. I think it would do us some good. Perhaps Branch should go as well? I just can't believe that a person I trusted would betray me in such a way."
"No one can," Roland muttered.
"It's a sad fact that the majority of children who are sexually abused are done so at the hands of relatives or close friends - people they know," Kerry said.
"Doctor Weaver, would it be all right if we stayed here tonight? I can easily sleep in one of your chairs and Maureen can sleep on the couch."
"I don't have a problem with it, Mr. Carter. But, there's no need for you to sleep in a chair or on the couch. The two of you are more than welcome to use my room. I'll sleep on the couch."
"Thank you for the offer, but I would prefer to stay down here. It's closer to John if he should need someone." Roland looked over at his wife, who nodded her agreement.
Kerry nodded. She understood how important it was for them to be near John right now. Of course, if they would have remained near to him when he was younger, then maybe the abuse would have never happened.
"I'll get you some sheets and pillows. And please, since you'll be staying here you might as well call me Kerry."
"In that case, there's no reason for you to call us Mister and Missus Carter. Roland and Maureen will do just fine. Whenever I hear someone say "Mister Carter" I want to turn around to see if my father is standing behind me," Roland managed a small smile.
"I know what you mean. There are times when I look for my mother if someone calls me Ms. Weaver. I'll get those sheets for you." Kerry headed upstairs.
"You blame me for this, don't you?" Roland asked his wife.
She shook her head. "Why would I blame you? You didn't do anything to John."
"Except leave him in the care of that bastard."
"You left him with your sister and her husband. God, Roland, if you can't trust your own family, then who can you trust?"
"No one I guess." Roland was quiet for a moment. "This is going to kill Emily. She's always been fond of John. For her to find out that her husband did this to him..."
"He has a name, Roland."
"I would prefer to forget that I ever knew it. God, Maureen, I thought I knew the man. He was my friend before he was Emily's husband. We did so much together and when he met Emily and they fell in love, I thought it was the greatest thing in the world. One of my best friends marrying my sister, becoming family. Not once did I ever get a glimpse of the monster that was lurking inside of Joe. That's why I never hesitated to leave my children in his care so we could travel. That's why Branch never hesitated. We trusted Joe. We believed in him."
"And now you find out that he let you down."
"He let all of us down, Maureen. God, I wish he were still alive just so I could have the pleasure of ripping his guts out with my bare hands."
"I think you'd need to stand in line for that pleasure, Roland."
"We had planned to kill him, you know. Branch, Casey and me. After Casey found the notes that Bobby had written. We all thought he had molested Bobby. We never dreamed that Chase and John had been harmed as well."
"But, you didn't kill him."
"No. Someone beat us to it. I'd like to know whom it was so I could shake his hand and tell him that it was a job well done. Does that make me a monster, too?" He beseechingly asked.
Maureen shook her head. "No, that makes you a concerned and loving parent."
"Oh, yeah, I'm real loving and concerned all right. Too quick to criticize my children and too slow to praise them. Too stupid to see that my son has spent all these years scared to death of his uncle. Too blind to see the guilt he's been carrying around inside."
"Roland, we can only see what John allows us to see."
"But, we're his parents, Maureen! We're supposed to see below the surface. It's our job, our duty. Do you realize that we've lived our lives making our children fit into our schedules? We never made accommodations for them. Never once. Except for when Bobby was sick. And then we made John and Barbara make their lives fit into Bobby's. If we wanted to travel, we palmed our children off on someone else to watch. If we wanted to go out, the maid and butler watched them. Then when they were older, we shipped them off to boarding school and we no longer had to worry about what to do with them. We only had to deal with them a few times during the school year and over the summer. And even then, we still neglected them."
"Roland, you're feeling shock and guilt because you just found out a horrible thing. Don't be so hard on yourself. We never neglected our children. We made sure they were fed and clothed. Made sure they had an excellent education. We gave them anything they desired. When Bobby was diagnosed with leukemia, we left no stone unturned in our quest to cure him. We've been good parents, Roland."
"I wish I could believe that as easily as you do," he murmured. He reached into his pocket and got out his cell phone. "I'm going to call Branch. I'm sure they're all worried about why we were called over here."
While he was talking to his brother, Kerry returned with the sheets, pillows and two lightweight blankets.
"Thank goodness the air conditioning has been repaired. We were without it for a few days and it made for some uncomfortable sleeping," Kerry told Maureen.
"Well, it feels just fine in here now. We really appreciate this, Kerry."
"It's not an imposition for me, Maureen. I should warn you though that I'll be up early in the morning. I have to be to work by six. John was scheduled to be in at the same time, but under the circumstances, I think I'll let him have the day off."
"He's going to be upset with you about that," Maureen observed. "He hates to be coddled."
"I've noticed that about him. There, I think the couch is ready now. The bathroom is upstairs, first door on the right. I think you'll find everything you need in there. I put out some toothbrushes for you. Luckily for you, I buy in bulk," Kerry smiled.
"Thank you. We'll try to be quiet."
"Good night." Kerry went upstairs to go to bed. She had only spoken to John's parents on the phone a few times and they had been short conversations with hardly any substance. Even though she had just spent over an hour in the same room with them, she didn't feel as if she knew them any better than she did before they came over. She got ready for bed, thinking about her own family - Bob and Janet Weaver, the childless couple who had adopted her. They were wonderful parents, full of love and enthusiasm. They had always been there for her, willing to drop whatever they were doing to look at her latest Play Dough creation or read her a story. She missed them a lot. Before she got into bed, she gently touched the family photo that had prominence on her nightstand. They had been taken from her suddenly, killed in a car accident last year. And now she found herself trying to track down the woman who had given birth to her. The woman who had decided she couldn't keep her. The woman who had been kind enough to give her Bob and Janet Weaver.
"Thank you," she whispered as she turned out the light.
Roland and Maureen were quietly reading the morning paper when they heard someone running up the basement stairs. The door slammed open and John rushed into the room, clearly angry.
"I slept through my alarm and no one woke me. I'm supposed to be at work right now."
"Kerry gave you the day off," Roland replied. "And you didn't sleep through your alarm. I turned if off last night."
John had to bite his tongue to keep from saying something he knew he would regret. "Well, I didn't ask for a day off." He turned on his heels and rushed back downstairs. Minutes later they could hear the sound of the shower.
"Stubborn, isn't he?" Roland asked his wife.
"Just like his father, dear," she evenly replied.
"More like his grandfather. Do you think we should call Kerry and warn her that he's coming in?"
Maureen nodded. "I think that would be the wise thing to do. I doubt if we'll make any headway with trying to talk him out of going in to work today."
Roland put down the paper and called Kerry, letting her know that John was awake and angry. He told her that he was determined to come to work, but that he and Maureen would try to talk him into staying home. Kerry let him know that she didn't expect them to succeed and then thanked him for calling.
"She's been warned," Roland sighed as he picked up the paper again. He wasn't really reading the article anymore. Instead he was trying to think of some argument that would keep his son home. Sighing, he put down the paper and headed to the basement to try to talk some sense into his son.
Kerry approached Mark. "We need to talk," she said.
"Okay. How about the lounge?"
She shook her head. "Too risky. This is private Mark. Very private."
"Okay, let's step outside then."
They let Randi know they were going out and then they walked down to the make shift basketball court.
"What's on your mind?"
"It's Carter."
"I figured as much by the way you told me he had the day off. It's got something to do with his uncle's death, right?"
"More like something to do with his uncle's life, Mark. The man was a child molester. Not that it's news to anyone who gets the newspaper. God knows it's been mentioned often enough since the day he died."
"You're telling me that Carter was one of his victims, aren't you?"
Kerry nodded. "Please keep this confidential. I just found out for sure yesterday. Not only Carter, but also his cousin Chase."
"Man." Mark found himself clenching his fists. If someone touched his daughter, abused her in any way, he would kill him or her without hesitation.
"It gets a little more complicated, Mark."
"How much more complicated can it be?"
"John is convinced that his uncle's ghost is haunting him. He said that the man has threatened harm to people that John cares about. According to John, I didn't accidentally slip on soap in my bathtub - his uncle made me fall in an attempt to prove to John that he was serious."
"You have encouraged him to see a psychiatrist, haven't you?"
"For the abuse, yes. For the rest, well no. I'm not entirely convinced that a ghost isn't hanging around."
"I hope you have a good reason for telling me that."
"I do." Kerry told him about her fall on the stairs. A fall caused when she slipped on the syringe. A syringe that she knew had been no where near the stairs.
"Okay, I'll admit that it's weird, but you can't expect me to believe that a ghost did that to you."
"I'm beginning to believe it. Mark, my bathroom door was locked when I slipped on the soap. I never lock my bathroom door when I'm taking a bath or a shower. Never. But, it was locked. As for the syringe, I know for sure that I set it down on John's bed. His bed is not near the stairs, Mark."
"Kerry, it sounds as if you need a day off as well. Maybe you should go home and get some rest. Tomorrow, things will look different."
"I don't need any rest, Mark. Besides, we've got our own problem to deal with here. John's parents just called me. He's determined to come to work."
Mark thought about that for a second. "Well, we should let him. We can keep an eye on him and if it seems as if his preoccupation with ghosts is getting in the way of his job, then we can send him home."
"Mark, it's not a preoccupation with ghosts. He seriously believes that this man is talking to him and threatening people." Kerry lowered her voice. "And I'm beginning to think he might be right."
Mark didn't know what more to say. He didn't believe in ghosts, but it was obvious that Kerry did. At least she believed in this one.
"Well, we'll see what happens when Carter gets here, okay?" he gently said.
Kerry nodded, knowing that was the best they could do at the moment. Together, they went back inside. As she watched Mark head to the curtain area to see a patient, Kerry tried to gather her thoughts. She could have sworn that when she went out to get her morning paper that she had seen Clark Morgan's pick up truck parked down the street. She wouldn't be surprised to find that he had watched her house all night. Like Mark, Clark Morgan was another one who didn't seem or want to believe in the presence of spirits. But, she knew better. Reaching for a chart, she thought of how much easier the day would be if Roland and Maureen did manage to keep John at home. But, she knew they wouldn't succeed. Her boarder was too stubborn by far.
The boarder in question angrily faced his father. It had been a shock to come out of the bathroom to find someone sitting on his bed. At first he thought it had been Joe, but then he saw it was his father. Wordlessly, John had gathered his clothing together, then went back into the bathroom to change, wanting and needing privacy. Finally ready to face the world, John left the bathroom, prepared to fight his father over something as stupid as going to work.
"You and Mom stayed overnight." He accused.
"Yes, we did. We wanted to be here in case you needed us."
"In case I needed you?" John laughed at that statement. Where had they been when he really needed them? All the nights he spent alone, near tears and frightened, knowing he had killed his own brother with his careless words. It seemed that everything else in the world took priority over him and the other children. The South of France in springtime was far more important than staying home with the kids. John shook his head. "It never mattered to you before when I needed you. When Barbara needed you. Go on and go. I'm sure that there's a casino in Monte Carlo or a nightclub in Thailand that has a room reserved in your name. I don't need you anymore."
"Son, you know good and well that your mother and I don't travel for pleasure, but for business. I know that's not a valid excuse though and I'm sorry that I wasn't here to keep Joe from hurting you. If I had known what he was doing to you, then I would have put a stop to it. But, I didn't know. You never said anything to me."
"Would it have really mattered if I did? Aunt Emily and Uncle Joe were convenient babysitters for you and Mom. You knew you could drop us off with them and not have to worry about where we were. You were so sure of yourselves, weren't you? You know, I've often found myself wondering just why in the name of God you and Mom decided to have children? It was plain that you never wanted us."
"That's not true and you know it. We have always wanted the three of you."
"I guess it's true enough that Barbara and I provide you with someone on whom you can pile criticisms. God knows you do that often enough. So, tell me Dad, just what do you think of where I live?" John swung his arm to encompass the entire room. "Do you approve of my place? Does my landlady meet your expectations? Not quite the dump that the dorm room was, is it? Well, guess what, Dad? You own apartment buildings where the entire apartment is the size of my room. Were you aware of that, or have you been too busy collecting your rent and watching your millions grow? Do you even care about the people who pay that rent to you?"
"I'm not going to sit here and argue with you about the apartments. You have voiced your opinion on numerous occasions, John. Kerry wants you to take the day off. She's not expecting you to show up for work."
"I didn't ask for the day off and I have no intention of taking it. Excuse me, but I have to go now." John grabbed his bag, then headed upstairs. He exchanged a brusque hello with his mother, then left. Roland slowly came upstairs.
"No luck I see," Maureen commented.
"None at all," he replied. "We should get our stuff together and go back to the house. I'm sure that Branch has filled everyone in on the latest developments."
"Are you sure you feel up to facing Jacob? You know that he's going to be blaming you and Branch for allowing Joe to molest our children."
"Don't even think that way, Maureen. I'm hoping that for once in his life my father will be human."
"I guess there is a first time for everything, dear."
Roland sank down into the chair, holding his aching head in his hands. "It just occurred to me that the evidence was right in front of my face all this time and I ignored it."
"What are you talking about?" Maureen laid a gentle hand on the back of his head, moving it to his arm when he raised his head to look at her.
"John mentioned Thailand and the frequent trips we've taken there over the past couple of years. Who did we always see there?"
"We would run into Joe there." Then the meaning of what he was saying sank in and she closed her eyes. Thailand had the unfortunate reputation as being the place to go if you wanted to get your hands on a child prostitute, male or female. "Oh, Roland, you would have had no way to know he went there for that. Jacob does business there, so it was only natural for him to send Joe."
Roland shook his head. "Joe always volunteered to go to Bangkok. I remember Emily saying something about that and how she didn't like to travel and would stay home while he went. God only knows what he did while there."
"Roland, you can't keep going there. It's only going to drive you crazy."
Roland sighed, knowing his wife was right. Still, he couldn't keep his mind away from those thoughts. He wanted to know just what Joe had done to John. He wanted to know the many reasons he had to hate him.
Mark was at the desk when John arrived, looking more than a little rushed.
"Sorry I'm late. I overslept," John said as he logged into the computer.
"No problem. It's been a quiet morning."
"Is Doctor Weaver around?"
"She's in with a patient. Why don't you get yourself settled and then we'll see what's on the board for you?"
"Sure."
Mark watched as John disappeared into the lounge, then he looked up at the board. If he chose an easy case for him to handle, then he would suspect that Kerry had told him about last night. But, he wasn't sure that he wanted to trust him with a difficult case. Not yet anyway.
He was still trying to decide what to do when a trauma came through the doors. John was coming out of the lounge at the time, so he and Mark ended up being the doctors on the case, a young victim of yet another drive-by shooting.
Mark let John take the lead on the case, giving himself the opportunity to watch him at work. Peter Benton was summoned, in case the young teen lived long enough to make it to surgery, but in the end, it didn't matter how many doctors were present in Trauma One - the teen died anyway. Peter finally called the time of death.
Mark sighed. "I hate days like this."
"Such a waste," Peter agreed.
"It is a waste," Joe agreed, appearing on the other side of the room. "A cute kid like that could have provided someone with hours of pleasure."
John closed his eyes. Why did that bastard have to follow him to work? He had pestered him on the El, but John had managed to avoid talking back to him. He knew now that Joe would keep saying more and more outrageous things just to get his attention. Well, it wasn't going to work.
"Are you okay?" Mark asked.
John opened his eyes and nodded as he tried to not notice that Joe was now standing by the body. "I'm fine. Excuse me." He left the room and headed for the desk. He needed something to keep himself busy. Even a stubbed toe would be good right now.
"Carter isn't looking so good this morning. He's not ill, is he?" Peter asked.
"Kerry mentioned that he wasn't feeling up to par last night, but she didn't think it was anything contagious."
"Good. But, you should think about sending him home if he doesn't start to feel better. An ill doctor won't do anyone any good."
"I know." Mark headed to the desk, letting the nurses do their job of clearing the room.
"Hey!" Jerry exclaimed in disbelief as the computer screen went black. "What happened?"
"The computer's unplugged, Jerry," Mark said as he handed the cord to him.
"How did that happen?"
"Maybe it got caught on your foot or something. Carter, why don't you take the rash in curtain three?"
"Sure." John grabbed the chart, ignoring Joe and his antics. It had been mean of him to unplug the computer. Jerry had been on the verge of winning that hand of solitaire when Joe cut him off. Now Joe was walking alongside him to the curtain area.
"You can't ignore me forever, Johnny. I'll follow you around all day."
"Go away," John hissed, keeping his voice low.
"No can do, Johnny. I keep getting the impression that you aren't doing all you can to find my killer. You need some motivation."
John ignored the ghost, who for some reason, decided to leave him alone while he treated his patient. The minute he was done though, Joe was back to bug him.
"Call the cop. Ask how the investigation is going. Now that you've spilled your worthless guts to him, he'll feel sorry for you and want to keep you updated."
"I'm at work right now and I have to concentrate on that. I'll call later."
"Who will you call?" Chuni asked as she passed him on her way to the admit desk.
"My folks." John quickly lied. He put the folder in the completed basket, then looked for another patient."
"How are they doing? I think it's just so sad that someone could be murdered in broad daylight like that." She commented.
"I like this lady. She appreciates the fact that I didn't deserve to die like that."
"You deserved worse," John softly said.
"Huh?" Randi asked.
"Got anything for me?" he asked.
She popped her gum as she considered his question, then she reached over and pulled a folder from the middle of the stack. "Stomach pains in four."
"Thanks."
"Don't mention it."
John read over the chart as he walked away, not noticing that Clark Morgan had come into the emergency room.
"Is Doctor Weaver around?" he asked Randi.
"Yep." The gum popped once more.
"May I see her?"
Randi finally looked up from her book, looking him up and down before she nodded. "Chuni, do you know where Doctor Weaver is?"
"Lounge. I'll get her."
Chuni disappeared into the lounge and a minute later Kerry emerged from the room. She smiled as she saw Clark at the desk.
"Hello again," she said.
"Good morning. I trust that you had a quiet night."
Kerry warily eyed Randi, who was intently watching the couple.
"Shall we go outside to talk?" Kerry didn't wait for an answer, she just headed out the door. Clark had no choice but to follow.
"There are some things that I don't want the staff to overhear," she explained when he caught up to her.
"Of course. So? Was it a quiet night?"
"You tell me? Did you see any lights get cut on in the middle of the night? Hear any screams?"
"I don't know what you mean, Kerry."
"I saw your truck this morning, Clark. I know you watched my house last night."
He had the decency to blush as he realized he had been caught. "Yes, I watched your house last night."
"Why?"
"I wanted to make sure that everything was all right."
"Even though it was plain that Roland and Maureen Carter had stayed overnight as well? You couldn't have missed their car out front."
"I didn't. I can't help it if I wanted to make sure you were safe, Kerry."
"Right. Well, I'm here and fine. Is that all you came by to ask?"
"No. We've found the owner of the shotgun. It wasn't Joseph Thielen."
"Really? So that makes you even more sure it was murder, right?"
"Right. Do you know a Dennis Gant?"
"I knew a Dennis Gant. He was an intern here a few years ago. He died when he fell in front of a transit train. Why?"
"He's the owner of the gun."
"That's impossible. Dennis has been dead for over two years."
"The registration is to a Dennis Gant at a Chicago address."
"I would have thought that his father would have taken the gun back home with him. He flew up here to gather Dennis' belongings after he died."
"I see. Do you know his name or have an address for him?"
"Same name. Dennis Gant, Senior. I don't have an address. Personnel might still have Dennis' records. John might have it, too."
"John Carter?"
"Yes. He was Dennis Gant's roommate."
"Really? For how long?"
"For quite a while. After Dennis died, John stayed on at the apartment. He finally gave it up last summer. He should be able to tell you if Mr. Gant took the shotgun home with him."
"I guess I need to go to your house then."
"John's here. He came to work today." Even as Kerry said that, she began to feel that she might have said too much to Clark Morgan.
"I'd like to speak with him."
"Wait here. I'll go get him." Kerry hastily made her way inside.
"Randi? Do you know where Carter went?"
"Curtain four."
"Thanks."
Kerry headed there. John seemed to be in the middle of an exam, but she interrupted him anyway. Maggie or someone else could handle the patient.
"Doctor Carter, I need to see you outside. It's very important."
John smiled apologetically at his patient, a thirty-ish woman who didn't care how long he took as long as he kept smiling at her. "I'll be right back."
"I'll be here, Doctor Carter," she sighed.
He stepped over to Kerry. "What's up?"
"Outside please." She started to walk away, then noticed he wasn't following her. "Clark Morgan wants to talk to you."
"Why won't he leave me alone?"
"They know who owns the gun that killed your uncle."
"You had better go talk to him. This could be a vital clue, Johnny. Find the owner of the gun and you just might find my killer," Joe urged.
"I don't care."
"John, please? It won't take long for you to talk to him. I'll be there with you."
"Go," Joe ordered.
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