Doubleback: A Novel (38 page)

He paused, his knife in the air. He’d caught her glance toward the tunnel. He followed her gaze, then looked back, as if disappointed by such an obvious tell. He shook his head, as if he would never understand the ways of the
Anglos
.

Then the room exploded. The blast screamed hot and hard, piercing her eardrums. A blowback of pressure burst from the hatch, throwing out dust and sand and bits of rock. The floor of the warehouse heaved and seemed to rise before settling back.

Missing Finger dropped the knife, raced to the hatch, and hurried down the ladder.

“Stop. It isn’t safe!” Grant yelled.

“My men are down there!” Missing Finger yelled back. “I need to check! Cover her!”

Ken Grant picked up the knife and looked at Georgia, his features distorted with rage. If there was a face of evil, she thought, this was surely it. She tried to slither farther away from the opening, but couldn’t without his noticing. She braced herself against the wall. What about the other blasts?

The other two came almost simultaneously. A wall of hot pressure swept across the warehouse. Georgia was tossed backwards. She slammed into something hard. Objects flew through the air and hurled themselves at her: dirt, rocks, pieces of schrapnel. The blasts must have punctured her eardrums, because the scene unspooled in a crazy-quilt of silence. Pinpoints of light and color danced before her eyes like Fourth of July fireworks. Then there was nothing.

chapter
45

B
lurry white walls, white sheets, white dust motes in the air. Even the venetian blinds were white. For an instant Georgia wondered if she was dead. Gradually, her vision cleared. A heart monitor machine stood beside her bed, its regular beeps comforting. She realized she was alive. And that her hearing was back. She felt unaccountably grateful.

A nurse came in, took her blood pressure and stuck a thermometer in her mouth. When she was done, she smiled approvingly. “Glad you’re awake. You have visitors.”

Georgia felt too weak to smile back. The door opened, and Ellie Foreman entered, wearing a worried, tense expression. When she saw Georgia, her face softened.

“You gotta stop doing this, Georgia. I hate hospitals.”

Georgia just looked at her.

Ellie sat on the edge of the bed. “It’s all over now. Everything.”

Georgia’s lips parted. Her throat was parched. Somehow Ellie knew. She picked up a glass of water, angled the straw between Georgia’s lips, and supported her neck while she sipped.

“Ken Grant didn’t make it.” Ellie guided Georgia’s head back down to the pillow. “Neither did the guy with the missing finger. His name was Pablo Lopez, by the way.”

Georgia grunted.

“I feel the same way,” Ellie said.

Georgia tried to prop herself up on one elbow. “Car—Car—”

“Carmelita’s fine. She said she—um—finished the job and took off before the C-4 went off. She’s been to see you, by the way. She’ll be back. Now lie down.”

Georgia lay back.

“Delton’s singing to the cops in Chicago. Blaming it all on the cartel. They have Pattison too—you know, the president of the bank. For allowing Delton to walk all over him.”

A dull ache throbbed against Georgia’s temples. Her arm was in a new cast, but it didn’t feel as sore as it should. She turned her head. An IV was dribbling something into her veins. She felt around her face and made out new bandages. But there wasn’t a lot of pain. Just profound weariness.

It was as if Ellie had divined her thoughts. “The doctors say you need to rest for a long time.”

She nodded.

Ellie ran her hand through her hair, and her lower lip caught between her teeth, both sure signs she was nervous. “Listen. Someone is here and wants to see you. Can you handle another visitor, just for a minute?”

Georgia rolled her eyes.

Ellie left but returned a moment later with an old man. He was probably in his seventies, but he carried himself ramrod straight. His hair was silver, and there was a lot of it. He had a lantern jaw, and deep-set blue eyes that, at the moment, were full of concern. He was wearing a black suit and tie, and a crisp white shirt. Georgia didn’t need an introduction.

Lionel Grant made one anyway. “I wanted to shake your hand,” he said. “But I can see that’s not possible.” A ghost of a smile crossed his face. “Thank you for your service to your country.”

Georgia didn’t know what to say. She hadn’t done it for her country. She’d done it for a little girl who’d lost her mother. The rest of it was just, as someone once said, commentary. But knowing the effort it must have cost Grant to show up here, she tried. She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

The muscles in his face twitched. “My son’s activities were— unanticipated. You need to know that. I had no idea the Delton team had been subverted. Or that my son was at the root of it. Until Peña came to me.”

Surprise rippled through her. “Ra—Raffi told you?”

“After his team was taken out, he came to me. He knew he had to disappear, but he wanted me to know he had a plan to stop them.” He looked a little embarrassed. “I ordered him to go ahead. Said I would give him whatever he needed. But he was to say nothing to anyone about our ‘arrangement’ until such time as I permitted.”

She thought about Whit. “You didn’t know the group Raffi hooked up with?”

He shook his head. “I understand it was a white militia group.” He hesitated. “They would not be my first choice as an ally, but I do believe it takes an army to fight the scourge we’re facing.”

Georgia didn’t reply.

Grant’s eyes reflected a deep sorrow. “I thought I was doing the right thing. Passing solid values on to my son. I don’t understand where it went wrong.”

Wasn’t that the universal story, Georgia thought? Everyone trying to do the right thing. And failing. But when people were raised to fear and hate with the same passion as to love, the results weren’t surprising. To be fair, it might not have started with Lionel Grant. Maybe
he
was raised to hate. Maybe it was a family trait, handed down for generations. At least this time, in this family, the chain had been broken. Sadly, tragically. But broken.

“The police won’t be coming to question you for some time. And when they do, you needn’t worry. It’s all been—arranged.”

She nodded. There was something to be said for owning a town.

“And if you ever need anything, young lady, anything at all...” he went on, “... don’t hesitate to call me.” He tried to smile, but couldn’t quite make it. He turned and left the room.

Ellie came back in. “There’s something else you should know. Cody Wegman was right about the elevator.”

“How?”

“Lopez was the go-to guy for the cartel and Ken Grant. Not just a bi-lingual hit man. He used to brag how much he knew about computers.”

Georgia’s eyes widened.

“But he didn’t know as much as he thought,” Ellie went on. “When he forced Chris to close the accounts, he made her power down the system, which stopped the elevator, since they were on the same circuit. But it wasn’t necessary. He was ten years out of date. The changes had already been entered.” Her smile was just this side of smug. “Then again, if he hadn’t screwed up, we— you—might never have identified him.”

“I guess there’s something to be said for incompetence,” Georgia grimaced.

Ellie’s face darkened. “One last thing.” Her next words seemed to come out reluctantly. “Geoff Delton never knew Chris was pregnant.”

“She never told him?”

Ellie shook her head.

“What was his reaction?”

“Apparently he fell apart. He’d been planning to blame the bank shenanigans on Chris’s need to get revenge over their affair. Then he discovered he’d murdered his own child.” Anger flared in Ellie’s eyes. “He’ll have to live with that forever.”

Georgia went quiet. She’d been quick to pronounce judgment on Chris Messenger. She’d assumed the woman was using the pregnancy to force Delton to leave his wife. She’d been wrong. In the end, Chris had been as much a victim as Molly and the others.

Ellie cut into Georgia’s thoughts, her voice more cheerful. “You, on the other hand, need to sleep. Get your strength back. I’m taking you home as soon as they let you out.”

Georgia lay back against the pillow. Ellie seemed to know she’d had enough and gathered her things. She told Georgia she’d be back in a few hours.

“Open the blinds before you go, okay?”

Ellie nodded and raised them.

After she’d gone, Georgia let her gaze drift to the window. Through the glass she could see the sun full in the sky, searing the land with its fierce desert heat. But the monsoons would come soon. They would shove the heat aside and flush everything with a cool, whistle-clean wash.

That’s all you could really hope for, she decided. A cleansing, a cooling off, before it started all over again. This time it would have to do. She was ready to go home.