Part 11 (1/2)

'Both. They'll be in tomorrow's paper.'

'Mind if I read them today?'

Sam shrugged. 'Sure. Why not?'

He walked over to his desk and returned with two short articles. He placed them on the counter. Book read the first article.

LOCAL LAWYER DIES IN ONE-CAR ACCIDENT.

Nathan Jones, 29, a lawyer with The Dunn Law Firm in Marfa, was killed in a one-car accident on the north side of Highway 67 nine miles east of town Thursday night about 11 P.M. Sheriff Brady Munn investigated the accident and reported that Jones apparently fell asleep, ran off the road, lost control of his vehicle, and crashed into a pump jack. The pickup truck's gas tank ruptured and exploded. Jones died at the scene. 'Speed was a contributing factor in the accident,' Sheriff Munn said. Jones was returning to Marfa from Midland where he had business at his law firm's offices. Thomas A. Dunn, senior partner at the firm in Midland, expressed shock at Jones's death. 'He was a fine young lawyer and a fine young man. We will miss Nathan.'

'Good-looking boy,' Sam said.

A photograph of Nathan accompanied the obituary.

JONES, NATHANIEL WILLIAM, 29, went to be with his Lord and Savior on April 5th. Nathan was born on February 12, 1983. He grew up on his family's cattle ranch west of Marfa. He graduated from Marfa High School then Texas Tech University with a degree in English. He attended law school at the University of Texas in Austin and received his law degree in 2009. He was a member of the Texas Bar a.s.sociation and was employed with The Dunn Law Firm in Marfa. Nathan is survived by his wife, Brenda, who is expecting their first child, and his parents, William and Edna. Funeral services were at the First Baptist Church with burial at the Marfa Cemetery.

'Only problem with a weekly,' Sam said. 'Sometimes the deceased is already in the ground before the obituary comes out. Least he had a nice funeral.'

'We saw you there. You went even though you didn't know him?'

'When there's not but two thousand folks in town, one dies, it means something. Out here, Professor, folks aren't fungible.'

As law students often seemed to be.

Book had lost contact with Nathan after he had graduated from the law school. He viewed his role as similar to a parent's: to teach the students skills for life in the legal world so they could survive on their own. Consequently, the students leave law school and their professors behind; they get on with their lives and legal careers. They seldom have contact with their professors except to shake hands at continuing legal education seminars. They return to campus for football games, and if they're successful, to make a donation to the school. If they're very successful, their firms might endow a chair. If they become fabulously rich, they might buy the naming rights for a building or s.p.a.ce on campus. Hence, the law school had the Susman G.o.dfrey Atrium, the Joseph D. Jamail Pavilion, the Jamail Center for Legal Research, the Kraft Eidman Courtroom, and the Robin C. Gibbs Atrium. His former intern had not become a rich and famous lawyer. He had not made a donation, endowed a chair, or bought a naming right. He had simply returned home to Marfa and gotten on with his life. And now his life was over. Book could not help but feel that he owed an unpaid debt to Nathan Jones.

'And I took some photos of the funeral service,' Sam said.

'Why?'

'A life ended. Deserves to be doc.u.mented. So folks won't forget.'

'Do you have a photo of the guests at Nathan's funeral?'

Sam again went to his desk and returned with a computer-generated photograph. He placed it on the counter in front of Book.

'Who are these people?' Book asked.

Sam pointed at faces in the photo. 'She's the wife ... his parents ... lawyers, I figure, who else would wear suits? ... the sheriff ... Sadie, the court clerk ... other locals.'

'May I have this photo?'

'Sure.' Sam's eyes turned up to Book. 'You looking into his death, figure maybe it wasn't an accident?'

'What makes you say that?'

'Just hoping for a lead story better than the roller derby.'

'Sorry to disappoint you.'

'Then what brings you to Marfa?'

'We came for the art, stopped in to say h.e.l.lo to Nathan, learned he had died.'

'Same day the boy was buried?'

'Coincidence.'

'Myself, I don't believe in coincidences.'

Nadine threw her hands up. 'What does everyone have against coincidences?'

Sam picked up a digital camera from his desk.

'Mind if I take your picture? For my wall.'

He gestured to the side wall on which photos of celebrities were hung. Book shrugged an okay. He figured Sam Walker might be a friend in Marfa-and he might need a friend. Sam snapped a few photos then held the camera out to Nadine.

'Would you take one of me and the professor?'

Sam came around the counter and stood next to Book. Nadine took their photo and handed the camera back to Sam. He went over to his desk, put the camera down, and picked up a book.

'Would you sign my book? I mean, your book?'

Book autographed the t.i.tle page.

'I read that article about you in the New York Times,' Sam said. 'How people write you letters asking for help and you go off on these adventures, crusades they called them ... photo didn't do you justice.'

Book decided to take Sam Walker into his confidence.

'Sam, can I trust you?'

Sam leaned in a bit.

'Sure, Professor.'

'Nathan Jones wrote me one of those letters.'

Book pulled out Nathan's letter and handed it to Sam. He looked at both sides of the envelope then removed the letter and read it. His expression turned somber. He slowly folded the letter, put it back inside the envelope, and handed it back to Book, almost as if he didn't want it in his possession.

'Noticed the postmark,' Sam said. 'Same day he died. Another coincidence.'

Book nodded.

'So you came to Marfa because he wrote this letter, only to find him dead. Said someone followed him home, said his wife was scared. Might make a man suspicious.'

'It might.'

'You seen his proof?'