Read Online Cruel Doubt by Joe McGinniss - Free Book Online

manufacturer in High Point, a city in the middle of the state, not far from Greensboro and Winston-Salem. Young sized him up as a man who would do what he believed to be the right thing, even if it made him uncomfortable.
    His wife, Peggy, who had been raised in Washington, D.C., was slim and attractive, with long red fingernails and short brown hair. She, like her husband, spoke plainly and with feeling. They both said, right away, that the decision to seek out Lewis Young had not been an easy one; that, in fact, they’d stayed up most of the night, talking about what they should do.
    The problem, they said, was Chris Pritchard, and to a lesser extent, perhaps Angela. From the moment they’d first seen Chris the day before, they had sensed that something was not right.
    â€œIt’s hard to put into words,” George Bates said, “but I don’t understand the way he’s acting. Yesterday, he didn’t act like his mother had just been stabbed in bed and almost died. And like his stepfather had been murdered.”
    â€œI never saw a tear in his eye,” Peggy Bates said.
    â€œHe didn’t seem upset,” George said. “He didn’t seem distraught. He was just his normal, run-here, run-there, can’t-sit-still, nervous personality.”
    Young had thought Chris’s nervousness might have been just a reaction to the shocking news he’d been given early that morning. But Chris’s uncle said, “He’s been that way as long as I can remember.”
    The big point they wanted to make—and this was a very hard thing for them to say—was that, based on what they’d seen of Chris since their arrival in Washington, they feared he might have some involvement in the crime.
    Angela’s behavior had bothered them, too.
    â€œI never saw a one of them shed a tear,” George Bates said. “It was like
nothing
had happened. It was like if I just went to their house and they’ve got some friends over and it’s, ‘Hey, how you doin’?’—same kind of nonchalant way. Like, hey, they’re makin’ plans to go get pizza and whatnot, up to the mall.”
    George Bates looked Lewis Young squarely in the eye. “I could almost rationalize losing a stepfather and not being in tears, but
their mother is in intensive care. She was almost murdered!
This wasn’t a car accident. Someone intentionally tried to
murder
their mother. And they show no concern whatsoever. Why aren’t those kids in tears? Why aren’t they sitting up at that hospital right now, protecting their mother? If I were them, I’d be there day and night.”
    Then Peggy Bates said, “The first people you need to give your attention to are Chris and Angela.”
    And George Bates said, “Look, I’m not convinced about anything. I’m just bothered. I’m bothered enough to be sitting here talking to you about my own family. I don’t like doing it, but I want you to at least be sure you keep someone there at the hospital, looking out for Bonnie. Because, heaven forbid, if the kids did have something to do with it, they might try something else.”
    * * *
    A policeman had been assigned to guard the door of Bonnie’s room the day before. Young called to be sure someone was still on duty. Then, at ten A . M ., he went to the hospital himself to have his first talk with Bonnie, and to see for himself how badly hurt she really was. Her brother might have feared for her life, and she might have been—as she appeared—an innocent victim, but she was also, Young said later, “already something of a suspect.”
    Lieth had been dead for only a day, but Little Washington was filled with rumors about her possible involvement in the murder.
    Had Bonnie been well known in the community, had she had a broad range of friends, acquaintances, or civic activities, the suspicion might have been slower to spread. But who had