Eleventh Hour

small parking lot set amid a grouping of pine trees and walked on a flagstone path to the discreet entrance. Nick looked up at the crystal-clear sky, at the cumulus clouds that were sweeping lazily overhead. She turned a moment to look at Bear Lake glistening beneath a noonday sun, snow glinting on the peaks in the distance. There was only a light spray of snow around Bear Lake.
    Nick stood still a moment, staring out toward the lake. It was as still as a postcard. She said, “I think this is a beautiful place, but somehow, I don’t know why, I just don’t like it.”
    She turned, sped up, and entered the double glass doors, which led into a large lobby. In the center was a large wooden counter with offices behind it.
    Behind the counter stood a stout woman with curly black hair and a very pretty smile. The name on her tag read Velvet Weaver. With the thin black mustache over her upper lip, she didn’t look much like a Velvet.
    Dane introduced both himself and Nick, showed her his FBI shield.
    “Oh dear, I hope there’s nothing wrong.”
    “This is just routine, Ms. Weaver,” Dane said easily. “Just a couple of questions we hope you can help us with. Could you please tell us about one of your patient’s sons, a Mr. Weldon DeLoach?”
    Velvet nodded. “I suppose there’s nothing wrong with that. Yes, a lovely man, Mr. DeLoach, a wonderful son. You know, he’s this big TV writer in Hollywood and so it’s only the best for his father.”
    “Is Mr. Weldon DeLoach here right now? Visiting with his father?”
    “Oh no, Agent Carver, Weldon hasn’t been here for a week, at least not that I know of. Of course, he could have visited when I wasn’t on duty. I’ll ask around for you. I was wondering just the other day when he was coming to see his father again. Not that Captain DeLoach knows when his son is here, poor man. Dementia, you know, for about the last six years now. Is something wrong with Weldon?”
    Dane shook his head. “Nothing at all. As I said, this is just routine, Ms. Weaver. Now, I understand that Captain DeLoach is a retired police officer?”
    “Yes, he was the captain of this small-town police department in the central valley for nearly forty years.”
    “Do you remember the name of the town?” Dane asked.
    “Dadeville. It’s a good-sized town now. Not all that far from Bakersfield. Poor man, but he’s eighty-seven years old and human parts break down. It’s sad, but Captain DeLoach doesn’t seem to be in any particular distress about it. It’s usually that way. What you can’t remember doesn’t hurt you.”
    “He’s that old?” Nick said.
    “Yes. Weldon was his only child, born when Captain DeLoach was already well into his forties. Captain DeLoach, when he remembers, tells everyone that it was his third marriage, and his wife was much younger.
    “She died, I believe, in some sort of accident when Weldon was only four years old. Captain DeLoach never remarried. He raised Weldon. And he’s a very good son; he’s paid for his father to be here for nearly ten years now. Never complains about any of the extras, always comes to visit.”
    Ms. Weaver paused, looked a bit worried. “May I ask you why you’re here, Agent Carver? I know you said it was just routine, but still—would you like to speak to our manager, Mr. Latterley? He isn’t here right now, but I could have him call you.”
    “That’s not necessary, but thank you, Ms. Weaver. We’ll speak to Mr. Latterley later. We’re really here to see Captain DeLoach. Will that be a problem, Ms. Weaver?”
    “Not at all, but let me warn you not to expect much. Captain DeLoach normally just sits about, looking out at the lake and the mountains. It’s very peaceful here, very soothing for the soul. I know he enjoys watching people water-ski. Of course, now that it’s winter, there’s not much of that.”
    Nick said, “What does Weldon look like, Ms. Weaver?”
    “A lovely man, is Weldon. Let’s see, I suppose he’d have to be in his early forties. He’s fair-skinned, light hair, although, you know, he’s always really tanned, told me once that he was real proud of that tan. And he’s very creative. Always has ideas for the old folks here, things to keep them involved, to keep their brains going.”
    “Yes, I see,” Nick said, and looked over at Dane. How could Weldon DeLoach possibly be the man she’d seen in the church? But then, why had the man used aliases that were so like Weldon’s name?
    Dane