Gingerbread Man

I won't allow you to question Amanda when she's on the verge of emotional collapse, what makes you think I'd let you grill a man who's just suffered a coronary?"
    "We need to question him as soon as possible," the agent said, his tone dismissive. "There's a little girl's life at stake, Doctor. I suggest you keep that in mind."
    "I’m keeping it firmly in mind, Agent Selkirk. What you need to keep in mind is that if you push Mr. D'Voe into another heart attack, you'll never get the chance to question him at all. And any information he might have that could help save that little girl will be gone with him."
    That brought Selkirk to attention, and the doctor rose a notch in Vince's eyes. He was holding his own and then some with the imposing federal agents, and looked as proud and powerful as a tribal chieftain. Then he delivered the clincher. "The man won't be conscious for several hours anyway. You couldn't question him if you wanted to until then."
    "Fine. We'll wait," Selkirk said grudgingly. "But we'll post a guard at his door. One of ours," he added with a meaningful look at Vince, and then the chief.
    Jim Mallory nodded. "Fine by me. I'm shorthanded as it is."
    Several attendants rolled the gurney out of the treatment room, and the men stopped speaking to watch. Reggie's skin was nearly indistinguishable from the sheets around him. He was chalk white, except for the blue veins showing through his thin eyelids, and ghostly gray of his lips.
    "So you wanted to talk to me?" Vince reminded the doctor as he watched the man's friend being wheeled away.
    Graycloud looked up at him as if he'd forgotten, then gave a nod. "Yes. My office will do." He led Vince back up the hall, past the elevator doors that closed on three nurses, two federal agents, and Reggie on his rolling bed. Around a corner, the doctor opened a door, flipped on a light switch, and then stood aside for Vince to enter before closing it. Moving behind a large desk, he sank into his chair, as if he were exhausted, and Vince sank into one in front of the desk just like it.
    "Been a hell of a night, huh?"
    Dr. Graycloud nodded wearily.
"Hell
of a night. You get nights like this around here every now and then."
    "Around Dilmun, you mean?" Vince asked.
    "Nah. Around an emergency room. Oh, nothing this dark. Farming accidents, hunting accidents, drunk drivers, that sort of thing. But death is a tough combatant, no matter the form he takes or the victims he comes for. Fighting him off is exhausting." He gestured at the room around him. "That's why I keep a little haven for myself in here."
    Vince looked around. It was a cozy space. Coffee pot, hot cocoa in a canister beside a tiny microwave. A cup tree held mugs with nature scenes painted on them. Deer, birds, mountains. The chairs were overstuffed and cozy, and there was a cot around a corner in a spot that might once have been a closet.
    "I think it's time I told you what I know about Amanda and Reggie. I think maybe Reg would want me to, at this point. I don't like that Selkirk character, and I think the chief already knows, or at least suspects."
    Vince sat forward in his seat.
    "I don't believe Reggie's guilty of anything at all, you know. Most certainly not of harming children."
    Vince nodded slowly. "I don't think he is either, Doc, but I gotta tell you, it's gonna be tough to find someone who looks more guilty than he does right now."
    "Unless we find the real culprit you mean."
    Vince sighed, not answering that one.
    The doctor leaned forward in his chair, taking keys from a pocket and unlocking a file drawer in his desk. He pulled it open, took out a folder, and closed the drawer again. Then he tossed the file down on the desk.
    Vince saw the name "Amanda" across the top, and frowned. "That's an odd way to mark her file. No last name?"
    Doc shrugged. "I didn't see any need. I knew who I meant. The fact is, we didn't know her last name. We didn't even know
her first
name when Amanda came to us."
    Vince took the file, flipped through it. "Maybe you'd better start at the beginning, Doc."
    Graycloud nodded, leaning back again, getting comfortable. "It was late fall, 1983. The exact date is in the folder there. It was in November, as I recall. Close to Thanksgiving. I remember it was storming. Made that thunderstorm we had the other night look like child's play. Blew up a real banger that night. No snow just then, but it moved in by week's end, as I recall. But this, this was a thunderstorm, and it was