A Grant County Collection (122 page)

'And then he had to tell Jake.'

'What about the knife?'

'Clint didn't want to lose his knife – it was expensive – so he used one he'd ... found.' The man held out his hands in an open shrug. 'Mind you, I got this story second-hand from Jake, so I can't confirm the veracity.'

'Yeah,' Jeffrey said. 'I understand that.' He crossed his arms. 'Did Jake say whose idea it was to throw Boyd's body into my hotel room?'

'His. Jake thought if your wife got scared enough, you'd leave town.'

Jeffrey asked, 'What about Charlotte Gibson?'

'Jake got worried because she was talking to Lena.'

'So Jake torched her?'

'Yes. Jake liked to send messages.'

'Is that right?'

'Yes.'

Jeffrey remembered what Lena had said about Bart's last words to Valentine, the anger that had boiled up between the two men. The dentist had been supplementing his income with meth since Valentine was in diapers. He'd been the big man in town until Myra had married her college sweetheart.

'Lemme get this straight.' Jeffrey summarized, counting off the dead bodies on his fingers as he said, 'Clint Jones killed Boyd Gibson, Jake killed Charlotte and of course you were kind enough to shoot Clint in – what – self-defense? I guess leaving Lena and Sara in the house to die was some kind of oversight on your part?'

'I know I shouldn't have left those women there, but I was terrified. Jake has some powerful friends. I ran away because I was frightened. I take full responsibility for that.'

'I'm happy to hear you take responsibility for something.'

He tried to defend himself, saying, 'I called the sheriff's office and gave an anonymous tip.'

Nick had obviously heard this before. 'We listened to the nine-one-one tapes from Friday, Fred. We haven't found anything.'

'Then you need to keep looking,' Bart insisted. 'I called from a pay phone at the Stop 'n' Save. It should have my fingerprints on it.'

Jeffrey didn't doubt the phone had Bart's prints on it. He'd had plenty of time to think up an alibi while Lena and Sara were fighting for their lives.

'What about the other body?' Jeffrey asked.

'Other body?' Bart echoed. 'What other body?'

He seemed as surprised as Sara and Lena had been. Both women swore they hadn't seen anyone else in Hank's house, but the remains of a man's body had been found somewhere in the vicinity of the back bedroom.

Jeffrey told him, 'There was another set of bones in Hank Norton's house. The state coroner says he was an older man, maybe in his sixties.'

Bart looked at his hands. 'I don't know anything about that.'

'You don't know anything about a lot of things,' Jeffrey challenged. 'I think you're just sitting there with your little mind spinning, trying to come up with quick answers for every question, but the thing is you've got no idea how deep this hole is you're standing in.'

'I don't know what you mean.'

Jeffrey looked at Nick. Both men knew that Bart was either too arrogant or too stupid to see that his life was pretty much over the minute he shot Clint Jones and told Jake Valentine to get under the sink.

'All righty.' Nick sighed, pressing his palms against the table as he stood up.

Bart yelped, 'What are you doing?'

'Packing up,' Nick told him, collapsing the tripod. 'You don't know doodly squat, Tonto, and I have a feeling any second now the Lone Ranger there's gonna be heading back up to the corral to get along with his little doggies.'

The lawyer chuckled. 'Well put.'

Nick told him, 'No offense, buddy, but we're really hoping none of this goes any farther than it has to.'

'I think we've had enough collateral damage to last us for a while.' The lawyer pushed Valentine's photos of Fred Bart across the table. 'It seems to me you have an overwhelming amount of evidence here. Surely enough to charge the guilty party.' He stood, telling Jeffrey. 'I'm very sorry that your wife was in harm's way.' As an afterthought, he added, 'And your detective, too, of course.'

Jeffrey took the man's meaning, but he wanted to be clear. 'Just so long as they're safe now.'

'They are.'

The lawyer turned to leave, but Bart clawed his arm, screaming, 'You said they'd work a deal! You said they would—'

'Get your hands off me,' he barked, jerking his arm away.

Bart finally seemed to understand that the lawyer wasn't on his side, that the only reason the man was here was so he could make sure Bart wasn't a threat to the people who were really paying his fees.

For his part, the lawyer seemed relieved that the masquerade was over. He gave Nick a nod, then Jeffrey. 'Gentlemen, if you'll excuse me.'

'What are you doing?' Bart demanded. 'You're my lawyer! Where are you going?'

The man left the room without looking back.

Bart stood by the table, wringing his hands like a woman.

Nick told him, 'Sit down, Fred.'

Bart sagged into his chair. 'I want to cut a deal,' he muttered. 'I need to cut a deal.'

'Welcome to the State of Getting Your Head Out of Your Ass.' Nick clapped his hands in mock congratulations. 'What kind of deal you think you can make, Freddy boy?'

'Any kind,' Bart pleaded. 'Just tell me what you want me to say.'

Nick shook his head. 'We want you to say some names, Fred. Only problem is, you don't know 'em.'

'I know them!' Bart screeched. 'I know all of them!'

'Like?'

'Like ...' His mouth worked as he tried to come up with something. 'Just tell me. Tell me who you want and I'll say it!'

'Rhymes with Spitzpatrick.'

He paled. 'No,' he said. 'I can't do that.'

Nick shrugged. 'Lookit, hoss, we're giving you enough rope here to hang a snake. Not my fault you can't tie the knot.'

'They'll kill me,' Bart said. 'They'll ... worse than that. They don't just kill people ... they ...' His words stopped as he gulped for air. 'Please ...' he cried.

Jeffrey stood up and Nick opened the door.

'No!' Bart begged. 'You can't just leave me here.'

Nick couldn't help himself. 'Don't worry, hoss. We'll go by the Stop 'n' Save and call nine-one-one on our way out of town.'

Jeffrey had a bad taste in his mouth as he drove past the Elawah County High School. He should feel good about leaving Fred Bart to the wolves, but instead he felt dirty. Fred Bart had left Sara to burn, and Jeffrey was a firm believer in an eye for an eye. He was also a cop, and he knew the state had a process for taking care of its most deserving criminals. What was the difference between waiting ten years for appeals to fall through and letting the Brotherhood take care of him?

The difference was that the Brotherhood got stronger with every life they took. They wouldn't roll Bart into a sterile room and slip a needle in his arm. They would make him beg for his life. They would beat him, torture him – make it so that death was the only thing he had to look forward to. Fred Bart would be a lesson for every other thug and moron out there: you did not cross the Brotherhood without paying the ultimate price.

Still, Ethan Green's words kept coming back into his head, and Jeffrey couldn't help but wonder if the young man had seen the real Jeffrey, the one who hid behind his badge while he looked the other way. Jeffrey had taken an oath to protect and defend everybody, not just the people he thought deserved it. He was supposed to work within the system, not make up the rules as he went along.

He was supposed to take care of the weak and protect them from the strong. Fred Bart sure hadn't looked strong when Jeffrey and Nick had left him crying in the interrogation room. He had fallen to the floor on his knees, begging for help.

Jeffrey realized he'd passed the motel and made a U-turn. He pulled up in front of the office as the maid was coming out of one of the rooms. She stood there, watching him get out of the car.

Jeffrey told her, 'I need to get the things out of room fourteen.'

'They're packed up,' the woman said, walking away.

Jeffrey guessed he was expected to follow her. He caught the office door before she let it slam in his face.

'Thanks,' he said.

She went behind the front counter, scratching her arms through her long-sleeved shirt. She told him, 'There's a balance on the room.'

Jeffrey glanced at the keys hanging on the board behind her and figured maybe three rooms were checked out. 'Been busy lately?'

'Listen, asshole. I don't make the rules.'

He laughed, taking out his wallet. 'How much is it?'

She scratched her neck, calculating how much she could get off him. 'A hundred bucks.'

'How about twenty?'

'How about fifty?'

Jeffrey paid her the money, though he seriously doubted the cash would ever make its way into the register. Judging by the woman's appearance, he guessed he was looking at one of those rare things: a meth addict who had made it past her thirties.

The woman asked, 'How's the girl doing?'

'Lena?'

'Yeah, her.'

'She's okay.'

'Right,' the woman said. She took out a bag from under the counter and pushed it toward Jeffrey. 'Here's her shit. Go on and get the fuck out of here.'

He studied her face for a moment, the arrogant tilt of her chin. Slowly, he said, 'She's at St. Ignatius for a few more days.'

'Great. My tax dollars at work.'

'You pay taxes?' She gave him an eat-shit look that he should have been used to by now. 'You know, your daughter looks at me the same way sometimes.'

'I ain't got a daughter.'

'Lena looks just like you.'

Angela Adams grunted, giving up. She had fifty bucks in her pocket and a need in her veins. 'Got her head up her ass just like me. Didn't recognize her own mother standing right in front of her.'

Jeffrey had barely made the connection himself between the oil painting that he'd seen hanging over Hank Norton's living room couch and the woman standing in front of him. Something about the tilt of her chin had given it away – even after all these years, she had that arrogant challenge in her eyes. Angela had been beautiful once, but meth had taken that from her, just like it had taken her away from her young daughters.

Still, Jeffrey tried to be kind. 'Sometimes you don't see what you're not looking for.'

'You think I don't know what I look like?' She picked at the edge of the laminate. 'Hank doing okay?'

Jeffrey felt another piece of the puzzle click into place. 'Hank was with you the whole time he was missing. Wasn't he?'

'Stupid fucker should've known better. Didn't last no more than a coupl'er three days before we were ready to kill each other.' She picked at the sore on her neck. 'Bastard just walked off one morning. I guess he turned up at his house.'

'He's cleaning up,' Jeffrey told the woman. 'All the meth is out of his system.'

'He's always looked after them.' She caught herself. 'Her.'

'We found the birth certificate you filled out with Hank's name on it.'

'Did she see it?'

'No,' Jeffrey said. 'It got lost in the shuffle.'

She gave a rueful laugh. 'Dumb fuck that I was – I figured it'd make it easier for him to take the girls, keep them safe. I nearly got him arrested.' She started picking at the sore again. Blood trickled out. 'I was the one who got Hank hooked. Did he tell you that?'

'We've never really talked about it.'

'When Cal was killed – that's their father – I just couldn't take it. Pregnant, fat, miserable, alone. Then, I had a toothache on top of everything else. I went to that stupid bald fuck Fred Bart. He told me he had something that could take the edge off.' She glared at Jeffrey as if he'd challenged her. 'I made my choice.'

'Lena would want to see you.'

'I been in and out of jail the last twenty years. You think a cop wants a con for a mother?'

Jeffrey certainly hadn't wanted his own father, but then you didn't get to choose your parents. 'I've known Lena a long time. She'd want to see you.'

'You think she wants to see this?' Angela demanded, rolling up her sleeve.

Jeffrey winced at the damage the needles had done to her skin over the years.

'I work here,' Angela said. 'I make just enough money to keep myself going. I don't need nothing in my life that makes it complicated.'

'I'm not sure Lena would agree.'

'Yeah, well ...' She pushed her sleeve back down. 'I don't really give a fuck what you think, asshole. Get the hell out of my face.'

She walked around the counter, heading toward the door. Jeffrey expected her to leave, but she stopped.

He tried, 'You're her mother. Nothing will ever change that.'

She kept her back to him, her hand on the glass door. 'You wanna know what kind of mother I am?' She shook her head, disgusted. 'I promised I'd leave them alone, but I was broke, twitching so bad it hurt. I went over to the house, begged Hank for some money. He gave it to me, and I—' she took a deep breath. 'I was backing up the car, not looking where I was going, and I ran right over her, right in front of her sister and that pudgy little girl from up the street. You know about that? You know I blinded my own daughter?'

Jeffrey couldn't fathom that kind of guilt.

'Cops banged me up the next day for holding. There was some other stuff on my sheet – some bad checks, a couple of priors. The judge came down on me hard. Me and Hank, we figured the girls would be better off thinking I was dead instead of knowing what I really was.'

'Still—'

'Mister, giving up those babies was the only good thing I ever did in my life. Don't take that away from me.'

She pushed open the door and walked out, leaving Jeffrey alone with Lena's things.

Lena sat in a wheelchair beside Hank's bed, holding his hand with her good one. His skin was dry, his fingers like sticks that wouldn't bend. He wouldn't look at her, wouldn't return her grip. At first, she thought he was mad, but she was slowly beginning to realize that he was ashamed. If he was talking to her, he would've said something about his own pride ruining him. He had been almost arrogant about his recovery from addiction, but it had only taken one needle to get him hooked again. His body was ravaged from the drugs he had taken. The ones the doctors had prescribed were doing their best to counteract the withdrawal, but there was nothing they could really do for his depression.

Mostly, the two of them just stayed like this, Lena holding his hand, Hank staring out the window, until the nurses came and told them both to get some rest. Lena didn't talk much because there wasn't really anything to say.

'Doing okay?' the nurse asked, coming in to check all the tubes and machines Hank was hooked up to. She was a nice woman, but her cheerfulness grated and her voice was loud enough to wake the dead.

'Fine,' Lena told her, coughing.

The nurse shot her a look of concern. 'Did you do your breathing exercises this morning?'

'Yes, ma'am,' Lena answered.

She smiled, patting Hank's hand. 'See how good your niece is being, Mr. Norton?' Her voice was even louder when she talked to Hank, probably because he never responded.

She asked Lena, 'How's your hand doing?'

Lena held up her right hand, which was tightly bandaged. 'Doing okay. The doctors say I should be able to get full movement back.'

'Of course you will,' the nurse said, relentlessly positive. 'Just a few more minutes with your uncle, okay? You both need to get some rest.' She wagged her finger in warning. 'I'll check up on you!'

The door snicked closed, and Hank mumbled, 'Sure is damn loud enough.'

Lena felt so relieved to hear him speak that she couldn't respond.

His voice was rough when he asked, 'You really doing those exercises, girl?'

'Yes.'

'I never could tell when you were lying.'

'Me, either.'

Hank took a deep breath and let it go slowly.

She said, 'Tell me about my mother.'

He smiled. 'Which story do you want to hear?' He thought she was playing the old game Sibyl and Lena had made up when they were little.

'The true one, Hank. The one where she lived.'

His eyes watered all the time now, so she couldn't tell if he was crying. 'She always loved you girls. That never stopped.'

'She blinded Sibyl.'

If he was surprised, she could not tell. His face was still turned away from her. 'She came to the house looking for money. She was out of her mind with grief when it happened. I got her out of there, took the blame when the cops rolled up, said it was all my fault. I couldn't let you hate your own mother like that. I wanted you to love her, love the memory of her.'

'What happened to her?' Lena asked. 'How did she die?'

His head jerked around. He was obviously shocked by the question. There was almost panic in his eyes, as if he could not decide what to tell her.

'It's okay,' she soothed. 'I'm not blaming you. I'm not angry. I just need to know the truth. Just tell me the truth.'

Hank's throat visibly tightened. He pressed his lips together as if to force back the words that wanted to come. He had never been a man to dwell on memories, maybe because none of his were good.

'Hank, tell me,' Lena coaxed. 'Tell me this one time and I'll never ask you again. I think after all this time I deserve to know how my mother died.'

He stared back at the ceiling as if to collect himself. When he finally answered, he spoke so quietly she could barely hear him. 'Car accident.'

'Fred Bart told me that she's in a better place.'

Hank was quiet again, thinking it over. 'Losing your daddy, and then hurting your sister like that ...' He swallowed, obviously fighting with his emotions. 'I'm a selfish man, Lee. You're all I have left and I can't ...' His voice caught. 'I can't lose you.'

Lena tightened her grip on his hand, willing him to understand that she would never leave him again. 'When I saw you at the house, you told me that man, Clint Jones, killed my mother.'

'He dealt to her,' Hank said. 'He dealt to both of us.'

Lena sat back, trying to reconcile the image she'd had in her head for all these years of Angela the angel with this new one of Angela the drug addict. Had her mother been as bad as Hank? Had her arms been as marked, her features as ravaged? Lena shuddered at the thought, almost wishing she'd never been told.

'Meth is just ...' Hank shook his head. 'You die the minute you take it. The person you are, the person you were gonna be – that's gone the second the liquid hits your veins. You're dead from that moment on.'

'How did it happen? How did she die?'

He closed his eyes, chest rising and falling with each breath. He would not look at her when he said, 'She went over Taylor Bridge too fast and hit a telephone pole. Snapped her neck. The doctor said it must have been instant.'

Lena had been called out on her share of single-car accidents. Invariably, there was a dark story behind them.

His fingers wrapped around her hand. 'She would've never left you if she'd known how sorry I'd turn out to be. She thought I would take care of you.'

'You did,' Lena told him. 'You did the best you could.'

'Don't forgive me,' he said. His hand was weak but he held on to her as tight as he could. 'Don't ever forgive me.'

Lena couldn't stop herself. Not after all that had happened, all he had done for her and Sibyl.

He glanced at her, then looked away quickly. 'Better get now before that nurse comes back. Makes me wish I was back in a damn coma.'

'All right,' she said, letting his hand slip from hers. Neither one of them had ever been good at talking about their feelings. 'Call me if you need me, okay?'

Lena shuffled out of the room, feeling more tired than she'd thought herself capable. The doctors had told her the reason was because she wasn't getting enough oxygen. Lena thought it was because all she did was lie around the hospital all day with nothing to do but feel sorry for herself.

Her room was right next door to Hank's and she could hear the phone ringing from the hall. Lena hastened her step, snatching up the receiver mid-ring.

'This is a collect call from an inmate in Coastal State Prison,' an automated voice informed her. Lena didn't sit on the bed so much as fall. She waited for the recorded voice, her heart thumping against her ribs as she heard, 'Ethan Green.'

Lena crooked the receiver between her shoulder and ear, pressing the button on the phone to accept the call.

There was silence, nothing but a soft beep every three seconds to remind them that time was passing.

He said, 'How you doing?'

Lena glanced around the room, feeling like someone was watching her. 'Why are you calling me?' she demanded. 'I don't want to talk to you.'

'That why you accepted the call?'

'I'm hanging up right now.'

'I heard about what happened.'

Her hand had been hovering over the phone, ready to hang up, but she stopped at his words. Of course Ethan had heard about what happened. His network would have fed him the news before the media even knew about it.

'That toothache I had when you saw me?' She knew he wasn't expecting an answer. 'Don't worry about it,' he told her. 'I got some medicine. It doesn't hurt anymore.'

She thought about Fred Bart, the way the dentist had smiled with his nasty little teeth before he set Charlotte on fire. She spoke before she could stop herself. 'Good.'

'Nobody hurts my girl. You got me?'

'Nobody but you,' she reminded him.

He chuckled lightly. 'That's right, Lee. Nobody but me.'

Her breath was coming up short. Her hand was still inches from the hook, ready to hang up, but she couldn't make herself do anything but listen.

'I'm gonna write to you,' he told her, his voice soft, coaxing. 'I'm gonna write to you and you need to write back, okay, baby?'

'No,' she said, a begging quality to her voice. She tried to be stronger. 'I don't want you in my life anymore.'

'You think it's that easy? You think you're ever going to get away from me?' He laughed again, humoring her. 'I'm gonna be out of here before you know it, Lee. Then we can start over. Just you and me. Okay?'

She shook her head, words failing her.

'Sleep tight, baby. I'll be thinking about you.'

Lena hung up the phone, still hearing his voice, sensing his presence in the room. Who would get to her first – Ethan or Harley? Both men always settled their scores. Neither let anyone get the upper hand. Would she be beaten to death or wake up a couple of weeks from now with some stranger sticking a needle in her arm, telling her not to struggle, that it would be easier if she just gave in? Lena hoped it was the needle; hoped to God that she would never have to see Ethan Green ever again.

She looked up at the ceiling where shadows danced against the white tiles. Ethan was still there – filling every part of the room, every part of her soul. She lay back in bed, his dark presence hanging over her, until exhaustion won out and she finally fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.