The Death Collectors
Page 29
We turned. From the angle and distance I could not see the damage to his face. He looked as happy as anyone I had ever seen.
“Le monde se sent hors de danger parce que j’y suis enfermé…”
Harry and I looked to Danbury.
“Trey says the world thinks it is safe because he’s in here. He believes he is safe because the world’s out there.”
Forrier waved and turned away. He paused, bent to amend an image on the floor, then disappeared into his room.
We walked into the parking lot. The sun was warm on our shoulders, the air sweet as honey. Danbury said, “Do you think - in some way - his painting really exists? On some level the walls of that horrible place are filled with images of indescribable beauty?”
Harry said, “If we believe it does, it does. That’s all it really takes, right?”
We got to the car. Harry opened the back door, waved us inside. “Why don’t you folks climb in back,” Harry said. “I’ll drive.”
We got in. Harry jammed the car in gear, spun in a circle, clipped a bush, straightened out and we escaped from the gray buildings. We were out on the main highway when Harry slapped the steering wheel and chuckled.
“Hey, Cars, remember when we had the car in the shop for the flat? Rafael was on the case?”
“I’m not senile, Harry, I remember. Why?”
The car veered as Harry bent forward, started patting under the dash, like feeling for something. “Four years back Rafe’s kid brother got tight with a gang. Kid had an ugly future if he didn’t get wised up fast. I took the kid home for a weekend and laid a little straightening into him; kid’s fine now, college. Rafe knows me a bit, knows what I like, figured he owed me a favor.”
“What? He put an extra spare in the trunk?”
Harry kept fiddling. I heard a click, like a switch snapped. Just like that, Muddy Waters thundered from speakers tucked somewhere out of sight. “We got tunes, bro,” Harry yelled over the music. “Just for every little now and then.”
“Ain’t we something,” Danbury said.
Harry grinned into the rear-view. “Settle in, cousins, we’re on the high road to home.”
Danbury snuggled against me. Kissed my cheek. Blew one to Harry. He laid the pedal flat and we roared to my place to catch the sunset, about all that’s left to do after a long walk through the heart of God.
Acknowledgements
Without readers, I’m just that tree toppling soundlessly in the forest. Thanks to all my readers, especially those who wrote. Your letters are appreciated, I assure you. In a similar vein, thanks to all the booksellers who put my work in the hands of readers, sometimes by grabbing collars and saying, “Read this”.
Thanks to friend and writing colleague Dr Dan Handel for suggestions regarding medical procedures and terminology. If you’re ever shot, see Dan and tell him I sent you.
Thanks to FBI Special Agent (ret.) Mike McDaniel for input regarding law-enforcement procedures. As with Dr Handel, deviations from expert advice regarding investigative/legal/ medical/procedures are mine alone.
Thanks to Duane and Janine Eby, Dave Hansen, and John and Cindy Sabo, just for being who they are.
Thanks to the great folks at HarperCollins UK: Julia Wisdom and editor Anne O’Brien (who set my days straight, among other assists).
And always, a pyrotechnic display of thanks to Aaron and the exceptional folks at the Aaron Priest Literary Agency.
About the Author
J.A. Kerley worked in advertising and teaching before becoming a full-time novelist. He lives in Newport, Kentucky, but also spends a good deal of time in Southern Alabama, the setting for his Carson Ryder series, starting with The Hundredth Man. He is married with two children.
Other Books By
By J.A. Kerley
The Hundredth Man
The Death Collectors
The Broken Souls
Little Girls Lost
Blood Brother
In the Blood
Buried Alive
Her Last Scream
The Killing Game
Copyright
This is entirely a work of fiction. Any references to real people, living or dead, real events, businesses, organizations and localities are intended only to give the fiction a sense of reality and authenticity. All names, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and their resemblance, if any, to real-life counterparts is entirely coincidental.
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First published by HarperCollinsPublishers 2005
Copyright © J.A. Kerley 2005
J.A. Kerley asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
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