His prison.
He could call it that, and who would contradict him? Guards? Prisoners? Not if he was hard enough, malicious enough.
“Did you know?” she asked Beckett. “Did you know they tortured Adrian? That they killed his cellmate?”
“It doesn’t matter what I know.”
“How can you say that?”
“Desperate men,” the warden interrupted. “I thank God for them every day.”
“There is no money,” she told the warden. “No pot at the end of your sad, little rainbow.”
“I’ve explained once that we’re beyond that. This is about William Preston, who was dear to me. It’s about payback and endings and the natural order of things. Prisoners don’t touch my guards. Inside the walls, beyond them. It doesn’t happen.” The barrel of his gun came up. “Detective Beckett, would you step away from them, please.”
“You were supposed to wait outside.” Beckett stood sideways to the warden, his chin down. “You wait outside. I come in. That was the deal.”
“I’m an impatient man. It’s a weakness.”
“I gave you my word.”
“Yet I have no reason to trust you.”
“You have every reason! You know you do!” Beckett was begging. Elizabeth had never seen him beg. “I can get what you want. Please. Just leave them alone. Give me two minutes. I’ll find out where he is. No one has to get hurt. No one has to die.”
“You think I would kill someone?”
“I didn’t mean it that way. Please…”
“Is that man alive?”
The warden pointed his gun at Reverend Black, bound on the floor. Elizabeth opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, the warden shot her father in the heart. The bullet went in small and came out big. The body barely moved.
“That was to get your attention.”
Elizabeth stared at her father.
Channing threw up.
“I want Adrian Wall.” The gun was a .45, cocked. He pointed it at Gideon. “He seems like a nice boy.”
“No!”
Elizabeth leapt in front of the gun, her fingers spread. She was bent at the waist, desperate and small, and begging, too.
“Goddamn it!” Beckett yelled. “This was not our fucking deal!”
“Our deal’s off.” The warden shot Beckett in the gut. For a second the big man stood, then crumpled.
“Charlie!” Elizabeth dropped beside him. “Oh, Jesus Christ. Charlie.”
She put a hand on the bullet wound in his stomach, then felt the exit wound in his back. It was large and ragged, and beneath it was a pistol. Pain swam in Beckett’s eyes, but he mouthed a single word.
Don’t …
She looked at the warden and his men. Guns were up and level. “You bastard.”
“Stomach wounds are extremely painful,” he said. “Yet, people recover.”
“Why…?”
“The violence? This?” He waved an arm across the dead and dying. “So, you would take me seriously, and give me what I want.”
“Charlie. Oh, God…”
His blood pooled against her knees. His fingers twined into hers. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this.” She felt him fading. “Liz, I’m sorry.…”
She touched his throat when his eyes closed. He was in a bad way, but breathing. “What do you have on him?” Her voice cut, and she rose, fearless. “He wouldn’t have done this without a reason.”
“Brought me here? No. But I was with him when the little girl called.” The warden made another circle with the barrel of his gun. “He was trying to protect you. He told me he could get what I want. Obviously, he could not. Now, here we are.”
“He needs medical care.”
“Like William Preston needed medical care?” The warden held the stare; she had no words. “It’s a funny thing, really.” The warden sat on a pew, speaking conversationally. “When we first met, I felt as if I knew you. What you value. The person you really are.” He lit a cigarette and pointed the gun at Gideon’s chest. “Where is Adrian Wall?”
“Don’t.”
He swung his aim to the girl. “You see how this works.” The gun moved back and forth. The boy. The girl. “I want you to call him. Tell him to come here. Tell him he has an hour before I start killing children.”
“He’s farther away than that.”
“I’m an impatient man, but not beyond reason. We’ll call it ninety minutes.”
Elizabeth held the stare. The warden smiled.
At their feet, Beckett lay dying.
36
Adrian was at the window when the phone rang. Only Liz knew he was here, so he answered, “Liz?”
“Adrian, thank God.” She was curt, her voice strained. “Listen to me, and listen carefully. I don’t have much time. You remember my father’s church? The old one?”
Of course, he remembered. He’d joined the church a month after finding Elizabeth at the quarry. He’d hoped to marry Julia there and start a new life. It had, for a time, embodied dreams of better days.
“What’s going on, Liz?”
“I need you at the church, and I need you soon.”
“Why?”
“Just come, please. It’s important.”