been excessively concerned about privacy these past few
months. He'd complained to me before the open house
about how nosy strangers could be--always poking into
his closets and cabinets. That thought alone had almost
driven him to withdraw from the contest. If he'd wanted
to keep some papers well hidden in his house, this would
do the trick.
I finally removed the last screw and removed the
glass--frame and all--from the wall. Sure enough, the
lower portion of the frame had hidden the top half inch
of what looked like a bright yellow plastic folder, which
had been jammed between the straw bale and the
Sheetrock. I cursed at the sight.
It took quite a bit of effort, but millimeter by millimeter I managed to pry the thin folder from behind the wall.
300 L e s l i e C a i n e
I sent up a quick prayer that its contents would be innocent in nature--stock certificates or savings bonds.
My hands shook as I unfastened the clasp on the
folder and emptied it onto the kitchen counter. Two
items were inside the folder--a photograph and a dozen
or so typed pages stapled together. The photograph
showed Burke holding a beautiful towheaded boy as they
both beamed into the camera. At once the portrait
tugged at my tear ducts and filled me with fear. The implications of why he'd stashed the picture in a hiding
place with what appeared to be a scientific report were
dreadful.
I scanned the report about data findings for an airpurification system called the CleenAir 2000 System.
The document had been compiled by Dr. Burke Stratton
and listed the results of various airborne particles, which
I recognized as carcinogens. According to the time
stamps and the graphics, the particle counts had increased, rather than decreased, as the samples were
taken.
"Damn it, Erin," a quiet voice behind me said.
I gasped and whirled around. I tried to speak, but I was
too frightened. No words would come.
Burke had managed to unlock the front door and tiptoe inside without my hearing a sound.
He shook his head. "I knew I was in trouble when I
saw the Sullivan and Gilbert van in my driveway. I was
hoping it would be Steve."
He aimed a gun straight at me.
c h a p t e r 2 4
Ididn't want to do it, Erin," Burke said. He looked to be
on the verge of tears, and the hand holding the gun
shook. "I save lives. I don't take them. But . . . Thayers
killed my son. That idiot invention of his not only didn't
work, it made the air quality worse! Caleb was breathing
in more carcinogens. And I'd put my son's life in his
hands."
Now he was openly crying. His face was the picture of
a man in agony. "My wife was against it all along. She
wanted to keep Caleb in the hospital in the final stages of
his chemo. It wipes out the patient's immune system. But
302 L e s l i e C a i n e
Richard promised me his air purifier was as good as anything they could do at the hospital."
Burke's eyes were staring into mine desperately, as if
begging for my understanding. His plaintive demeanor,
when combined with the gun aimed at my chest, made a
physical oxymoron that was both surreal and terrifying.
I'd trusted him! I'd fought with Sullivan over him, insisted on his innocence! He was guilty all along!
"I believed Richard," he went on. "I had to. There was
no time for more testing. We would be able to keep
Caleb home, you see? In his own bedroom. Patients do
better there. Especially when they've got skilled caregivers. It's a proven fact. I told my wife I knew best, as a
doctor."
Burke was openly sobbing. He'd lowered the gun, but
kept it trained on me. The irony of the situation hit me
full force. I was going to die, all because I'd believed in
Burke and refused to listen to Sullivan. Just two days ago,
Steve warned me that Burke could have boody-trapped
his own desk to make himself look innocent.
"That decision took months off my son's life, Erin,"
Burke continued. "It turned me into an accomplice in
my own little boy's death. I tried so hard to live with that.
But I couldn't. Richard Thayers took everything from
home, because I couldn't stand to live in that house after
Caleb was gone. My job."
"Because you went into research?"
He shook his head. "I was fired months ago. I was putting too much time into my own research on that
damned CleenAir flimflam contraption that killed my
son."
"I'm so sorry, Burke."
P o i s o n e d b y G i l t 303
He nodded and said in a cracked voice. "I know you
are. And it's . . . there's no justice in this world. This is a
place where beautiful, innocent little children get sick
and die. And it doesn't matter how well they're loved.
But, Erin, it shouldn't also be a place where a father who
loves his son more than anything else gets conned into
having a hand in hastening his child's death. That's just
too much."
"It was still wrong, what you did, Burke," I said in a
near whisper, my throat too swollen with pent-up emotion to speak.
He made a derisive noise. "I should have sued, right?
Brought Thayers to court on charges of criminal negligence and so on?"
I managed a small nod.
"I didn't want a dollar figure attached to Caleb's life.
To have judges and lawyers and doctors calculating how
much money parents deserve for some bastard shortening their dying son's life. Besides, Richard made it clear
that the product was still in Beta testing. Though he also
claimed that it was this state-of-the-art product that would
eventually revolutionize air quality in the home. I was
the one who wanted to partner with him--turn it into a
legitimate business that could allow patients with weak
autoimmune systems to convalesce at home. If I had sued
Thayers, I would've been publicly humiliating myself.
The press would have played me as the arrogant doctor
who tried to play God. The fool who defied prevailing
wisdom about patient care and trusted the snake-oil salesman with his own son's life."
Not knowing if it would help or hurt my cause of getting out of here alive, I decided I had to at least go down
304 L e s l i e C a i n e
fighting. I said sternly, "So you took revenge instead and
tricked Richard into poisoning himself."
"Yes."
"Did it make you feel any better? Did it restore your
sense of justice in any way?"
"No. No, Erin, it didn't." He swiped at his tears, then
pointed the gun at me again. "I rented lab space by myself at a private facility. When I began the research on
CleenAir, I expected only to find that his product was ineffective. Once I found out that the damned filtering material was emitting more harmful particles into the
environment, I had no choice. I could not let that man
continue to live."
"He didn't do it intentionally, though. I can't believe
he knew how bad his system was and still sold it to you."
"That's irrelevant, Erin! It was his responsibility to do
the kind of testing that I did myself! My own work was
just . . . too late to save my son from Thayers."
"And Walter Emory? What was his crime? What did
he have to do with your son's death?"
"Nothing. Not a thing." He sighed and shook his
head. "It was your partner's fault! Steve Sullivan knew
right away what I'd done. You should have seen the hatred in his eyes when I bumped into him the morning
that Richard died! I knew he was never going to let the
police drop it. And . . . I guess I panicked. I wanted to
scare him off . . . Sending him those threatening business
cards to frighten him into thinking it was a serial killer.
But, jeez! Not even a live grenade scares that guy! I got
your van confused with his when I kicked in the headlight. I was going to plant another threat in his van on the
anniversary of Caleb's death, but you spotted me first, so I
acted even drunker than I was."
P o i s o n e d b y G i l t 305
"But Steve had nothing to do with Walter's coming
here, Burke!"
"I couldn't sleep," he continued as if I hadn't spoken.
"Steve didn't know . . . nobody knew that Thayers had
done a terrible thing, much worse than what I'd done in
making him pay for it. So I kept the data hidden right
there." He gestured wildly at the opening in the wall behind me. "One morning, I was taking it out. I wanted to
think through how I could make the information public
without incriminating myself. Turns out Walter Emory
was standing at the back door, watching me. I was so startled that I dropped the folder. The report and the photograph of Caleb went sliding across the floor toward him. I
knew right away it was all over. That he'd seen the photograph of me holding my child, and that he'd spotted
'CleenAir' on the cover sheet and recognized the name
as Thayers's invention. He knew I'd done it. He had the
same expression of horror on his face that you had a
minute ago."
"You had a gun in your hand at the time?" I asked incredulously.
He shook his head. "In the kitchen with me. The
weapons I stole from Darren had always been my Plan B.
In case my plan for poisoning Thayers failed. I sneaked
over there during the open house, just long enough to
unlock the back door to his shooting gallery." He released
a bitter laugh. "The idiot never even checks his doors before going to bed." He shook his head a second time.
"That morning, when Emory surprised me with an unexpected inspection, I'd been . . . contemplating suicide.
But then I saw that look on Emory's face. Nobody was
ever going to understand! I grabbed a pistol, and he tried
to run, but I shot him. I killed an innocent man."
306 L e s l i e C a i n e
He straightened his shoulders, his expression looking
frighteningly determined. He aimed the gun at me with
more resolve, as though he'd steeled himself. "This is
how my life has been, ever since Richard Thayers entered it, Erin. I can't get a break." He gestured at me.
"Now, the only person who believed in me is the one
who finds the evidence that will put me in a prison. So I
have no choice."
"No! You have to stop this now, Burke! You said it
yourself. You save lives. You don't take them."
He was gritting his teeth. My words were having no effect.
"Turn around, Erin. This will be easier for both of us if
you're not looking at me."
"I'm not going to turn my back on you, Burke.
Anyway, there's no way you can get away with this."
"I'll say it was an accident. That you were here when
you shouldn't have been, and I thought you were a burglar."
"That won't work. No jury in the country would believe that!"
"I'll think of something. I always do. Turn around,
damn it!"
"You know Caleb wouldn't want you to kill me." I
held Caleb's picture in front of me like a shield.
"Oh, God!" Burke started sobbing again. He pointed
the gun at his own temple. "Get out of here, Erin. Get
out of my house."
"Give me the gun, and I'll give you Caleb's picture.
Then I'll go."
"No. Just leave it on the countertop. This is the only
way this can end."
"You're going to get a sympathetic jury, Burke. You
P o i s o n e d b y G i l t 307
can plead temporary insanity for Walter's shooting, and
they'll wonder if they'd have done any differently in
Richard's death. It might not even be murder, because of
intent. You can claim you only wanted to make him sick,
and then everything snowballed."
"Maybe Caleb will be waiting for me on the other
side," he said quietly.
He did something to the gun with his thumb to remove the safety, then again pressed the gun barrel against
his temple.
"No! Stop!" I pleaded.
He shut his eyes.
I sprang forward, tackling him, my shoulder hitting
him in the chest just as the gun went off. We crashed to
the floor with such a jarring force that a shock wave of
pain raced through me. For an instant, I thought I'd been
shot, but quickly realized my breath had merely been
knocked out of me when I'd landed on top of him. The
gun had gone flying behind him and crashed against the
back door.
I fought against my body's instincts to curl up and
struggle for air. Expecting Burke to be lifeless, I pushed
myself away and grabbed at a kitchen chair to help me
scramble to my feet, all the while desperately gasping for
air.
Burke was still alive. His head was bleeding, but he
pressed his palm to the top of his head, over a gaping
wound.
"Oh, jeez!" he cried. "I just grazed my cranium! Leave
it to me to miss!"
I staggered toward the gun. Just then, the front door
flew open and a woman's voice yelled, "Police!" Linda
308 L e s l i e C a i n e
Delgardio barged inside, her weapon drawn. She gaped
at me.
I could only stare back at her, a sense of relief flooding
through me. It was short-lived, however, as I shifted my
gaze to Burke. He still had one hand pressed against his
head wound, but he'd also grabbed the photograph. He
curled into a ball on the kitchen floor, holding the picture against his chest as he wept uncontrollably, looking
for all the world like a scared little boy.
c h a p t e r 2 5
e p i l o g u e
On Valentine's Day, why wait for
someone else to give you flowers? Buy
them yourself! If your special someone
brings you a bouquet, all the better.
A second room in your home will be
graced, and you'll feel all the more
loved.
--Audrey Munroe
I awoke on February 14 to the sound of
power saws and nail guns. The kitchen remodel
BLISS was in full swing. Audrey had taped this morning's show, and had tried to convince me to
take the day off and go to a spa with her. I had
waffled and said no, but was still mulling the possibility of calling in sick, not only because a spa
on Valentine's Day sounded like the all-time
best treat imaginable, but because I simply did
not feel up to facing Sullivan today, of all days.
By the time I'd showered, dressed, and come
downstairs, the construction noises had stopped
and the carpenters were laughing. This meant
DOMESTIC that Audrey had brought them their daily coffee
and doughnuts (although she'd probably cut
310 L e s l i e C a i n e
them into heart shapes and chosen ones with pink icing), and that she was now entertaining them with one
of her many stories. Judging by the volume of their
laughter, this had to be one of her more ribald tales from
her ballet days.
The coffeepot was dry, so I got the coffeemaker going again and cleared my chair at the dining room
table. This was a daily exercise, because the clutter
seemed to behave like silt and refill whatever troughs I
managed to scoop away. Finally, I sat down with the
morning newspaper and a steaming cup of coffee. Hildi
pranced into the room and gave me my first valentine
by leaping onto my lap and rubbing against me affectionately as she settled down.
I stroked her silky fur as I scanned the paper. There
was only the briefest of stories about Burke's impending
trial--various legal experts opining about whether or
not it would have to be moved from Crestview in order
to get him an impartial jury. The discussion was premature at best, because any trial was months in the future;
only a week had passed since his arrest.
Audrey chuckled as she closed the kitchen door behind her. The sturdy exterior door was a temporary feature which we'd installed upon my suggestion. Audrey
had needed it there for noise abatement, though she'd
insisted on easy access to the construction. The door
featured a large glazed window and would be moved
to the sunroom/breakfast nook during the last step of
the remodel.
"Morning, Erin." She grabbed her notebook and pen
D o m e s t i c B l i s s 3 1 1
from the top of a stack of recipe books and sat down at
the head of the table beside me. "I heard all the latest
from the carpenters. Just like Joe predicted, his daughter Laurie brought home a dog from the Humane Society. Laurie was doing community service volunteer work
there, if you remember. And now Susan is going nuts,