“Yeah, I thought that would ring a bell. Headly’s been on to you since Golden Branch. On that day, you revealed the caliber of man you are, and Headly’s opinion of you hasn’t wavered.”
“Like I care about his, or anyone’s, opinion of me.”
“How many bullets did that man take for you while you were running for your damn life?”
“He was going to die anyway.”
“We’ll never know.”
“He knew. He had a hole in his head, for chrissake. He volunteered to hold the
m off.”
“While you ran. How hard did Flora have to beg for you not to leave her and Jeremy behind?”
“I didn’t leave them though, did I?”
“But you wanted to.”
“She could barely walk. Blood all over the damn place. I had to bind her up in a sheet, and even then she left a trail.”
Like a potent narcotic, a slow rage was seeping through Dawson. He embraced it. He wanted it to saturate every cell. “During the standoff, and while you were escaping through the woods, how did you keep Jeremy from crying?”
“Doped him. Only way to shut him up.”
“You doped your son. How old was he?”
“Eleven months.”
Amelia started with surprise. Her lips parted in a silent exclamation.
Dawson registered her stunned reaction, but his gaze never flickered off Carl. “The newborn never made a sound.”
Carl snorted with contempt. “So they found it?”
“Headly did.”
“Figures.”
“When did Flora go into labor?”
“Around midnight. She was still at it when the cops showed up. It was a nasty business. Thought I was never going to get the thing out of her.”
“But you finally did.”
“Had to cram a towel in her mouth to keep her from screaming.”
“As soon as the baby was born, you stuffed it down through a hole in the floor.”
“First time I’ve thought about it since.”
His blasé dismissal of what he’d done was as shocking as the barbarous act itself.
Dawson swallowed bile and had to force himself to continue. “As they were searching the house—”
“They didn’t find me,” he said in singsong.
“But Headly found the baby in the crawl space.”