Ledger pushed himself up and held his hand out. When Syder took it, his hand was clammy and hot to the touch. He went a sickly color when Ledger pulled him back up onto his feet and wobbled in place, back and forth, as if the road was rubber.
“I feel like I should call someone.” He grabbed Syder’s shoulder to steady him and turned the sheriff around to help him back toward the car. “That wasn’t healthy.”
Syder snorted out a tired laugh.
“Neither am I,” he said. His feet dragged on the ground despite his visible effort to pull himself together.
When they got to the squad car, Ledger propped Syder up against it while he opened the driver’s door. The radio muttered into the darkness, its lights flickering brightly. Ledger helped Syder sit, his legs stuck out into the road and one arm braced on the wheel. His head hung down, sweat dripping from his nose and chin onto his trousers.
After a moment, he cleared his throat, leaned forward, and spat onto the road between his feet. Ledger grabbed his shoulder to keep him from rolling out of the car and pushed him back upright.
“I can’t just leave you here.”
“There’s mints in the glove box,” Syder said with a vague gesture over his shoulder. “Get me those. My mouth tastes like a bathroom. After that, I’ll be fine.”
Ledger grimaced, walked around to the far door, and reached in through the open window.
“Are you sure? I could drive you—” he asked awkwardly as he flicked the latch. The compartment popped open, and Ledger pulled out a dog-eared Western, a balled-up half-a-hamburger from the McDonald's a few miles out of town, and finally, a pack of mints with one roll left.
“I’ve got cancer,” Syder said. “Giving up the smokes didn’t do much good in the end. I’m dying. So not sure who you’re going to call. The morgue?”
Ledger left the book and the garbage in the footwell and took the mints around the car to offer them to Syder.
“Sorry.”
“Yeah?” Syder snapped the paper tube in half and stuck the broken end in his mouth to peel out three with his teeth. “Me too. Fifty years I’ve served this county. I’ve done my best. When I die, all people are going to remember me for is Bell Conroy. But I guess you get that.”
Yeah. Just this once, Ledger could sympathize with Syder. At least he’d been able to get out of town, go somewhere where the name Conroy didn’t have the immediate association with Bell.
“I mean, there’s your family. They—”
Syder chuckled harshly. He tucked the mints into his cheek as he pulled his legs into the car and gingerly shifted around so he could lean back. His hand touched his chest absently.
“They’re gone,” he said. “One thing and another. Hard to love someone who let everyone—everyone—down.”
This felt far too chummy for Ledger’s comfort. He shifted uncomfortably and crossed his arms. “Do they know you’re sick?”
Syder glanced at him. His eyes were bloodshot and watery. “You knew Bell was sick,” he said. “Make any difference?”
“That’s not quite the same.”
Syder sighed and rubbed his chest. He crunched the mints noisily. “Yeah,” he said. “Hard to argue with that. Go on, Ledger. I’m fine.”
“You’re dying.”
Syder chuckled. There wasn’t much humor in the sound. “I suppose,” he said. “But unless you can rewrite the end of my career by helping find Bell’s victims, just leave me to do it in peace.”
It was Syder’s choice, Ledger supposed. He left Syder there, got into his rental, and drove away.
Once he was out of Syder’s sight, he called the station and told them a patrol car was parked at the side of the road. Let them deal with him.
* * *
Ledger staredat his reflection in the fly-specked bathroom mirror as he brushed his teeth. The taste of peppermint filled his mouth, sharp enough to make his nose run. It made him think of Syder: the overwhelming peppermint smell of his breath and the grainy brown ooze he’d spat up.
Suddenly nauseated, Ledger spat into the sink. He flicked the tap on to wash away the minty froth and cupped his hand under the running water to collect enough to rinse his mouth.
When he raised his head, he got a close-up of his image in the glass and grimaced. Bruises dappled his throat on both sides, and his jaw was welted with long, inflamed scratches. He poked dubiously at one to feel it flatten under his touch and idly wondered why Syder hadn’t brought it up.
