"Did you kill her, Travis?" Keith asked, stunned by his own question. Not five minutes earlier, he was making a mental list of all the church members he needed to visit in the hospitals. He was thinking of ways to ease Travis out of the building. Now they were dancing around a murder and a hidden body.

"I don't know what to do," Boyette said as another wave of pain hit hard. He bent over as if to throw up and then began pressing both palms against his head. "I'm dying, okay? I'll be dead in a few months. Why should that kid have to die too? He didn't do anything." His eyes were wet, his face contorted.

Keith watched him as he trembled. He handed him a Kleenex and watched as Travis wiped his face. "The tumor is growing," he said. "Each day it puts more pressure on the skull."

"Do you have medications?"

"Some. They don't work. I need to go."

"I don't think we're finished."

"Yes we are."

"Where's the body, Travis?"

"You don't want to know."

"Yes I do. Maybe we can stop the execution."

Boyette laughed. "Oh, really? Fat chance in Texas." He slowly stood and tapped his cane on the rug. "Thank you, Pastor."

Keith did not stand. Instead, he watched Boyette shuffle quickly out of his office.

Dana was staring at the door, refusing a smile. She managed a weak "Good-bye" after he said "Thanks." Then he was gone, back on the street without a coat and gloves, and she really didn't care.

Her husband hadn't moved. He was still slouched in his chair, dazed, staring blankly at a wall and holding the copy of the newspaper article. "You all right?" she asked. Keith handed her the article and she read it.

"I'm not connecting the dots here," she said when she finished.

"Travis Boyette knows where the body is buried. He knows because he killed her."

"Did he admit he killed her?"

"Almost. He says he has an inoperable brain tumor and will be dead in a few months. He says Donte Drumm had nothing to do with the murder. He strongly implied that he knows where the body is."