by Lisa Gardner
“Trenches? There are no trenches. There is prison. And he goes in alone and he dies there alone. Christ, haven’t you been following the other cases? There aren’t any second chances for mass murderers. Not even for a thirteen-year-old. Danny goes away for more multiple life sentences than years he’s got left to live. End of story.”
“Avery Johnson said that if Danny was willing to plead guilty, the county would probably be willing to work out a deal. It would spare everyone the anguish of trial.”
“My son is not a murderer.”
“Yes, he is.”
“I’m warning you, Sandy.”
“Danny shot two little girls! Danny killed Sally Walker and Alice Bensen. Those parents have to walk by empty bedrooms for the rest of their lives. Because of our son. What about that, Shep? What about that?”
“Goddamn you, Sandy—”
Shep’s voice broke off savagely. Becky peeked into the room and saw that her daddy’s face was swollen and ugly red. He had his hand drawn back, like he was going to hit something. Except it was her mommy who stood in front of him. She had her chin up and was staring at him like Danny did when he was daring someone to do something bad.
Becky was frightened. She wanted to yell stop, but just like in the school, she was too scared to make words come out of her mouth. She didn’t recognize these people, with their flushed faces and mean hands. She wished they would go away so her real parents could come home. She missed when they all used to eat dinner together, even Danny, who would sneak his peas onto her plate.
“If you beat your wife, will that make you feel better, Shep?” Sandy said quietly. “Or maybe, right at this moment, are you getting some idea of where we went wrong?”
Shep shuddered. His hand slowly came down.
“I’m trying,” Sandy continued softly. “I’m trying harder than I’ve ever tried in my life to make this family whole. But I can’t do it anymore. We failed, Shep. Somewhere we went wrong, and Danny went wrong, and poor Becky—God knows what’s even going on with her anymore. But the way I see it, we have two choices. We can pretend it never happened and not act too surprised when we get the call someday that our son is dead, or we can give up on what we wish had happened and start dealing with what did.
“Danny was involved in the killings. Danny has problems dealing with his rage. Danny is a deeply troubled boy. But he’s a good boy, too, if that makes any sense, and the guilt is tearing him up inside. If we don’t let him talk, and talk soon, I don’t think he’s going to make it. He’ll either finally find tableware he knows how to use or, worse, he’ll shut out his emotions. He will become cold and remorseless.
“He’s only thirteen, Shep. I want him to have a chance to become the man we dreamed about, not a newspaper headline. I don’t know about you, but for me that makes our choice pretty clear.”
And Becky’s father said tiredly, “What choice, Sandy? Danny’s not ours anymore. He belongs to the legal system, and I know that beast. The minute he says he’s guilty, he’ll be locked away for life. And even if he gets counseling and becomes our good boy again, what the hell is our good boy going to do locked away with violent felons for the rest of his life? Why don’t we just buy him a T-shirt that says RAPE ME NOW and let him wear it at the fucking trial?”
“Shep!”
“Sandy, what do you think is going to happen? Why do you think I’m so scared!”
Her mommy fell silent. Becky thought she looked like she was going to cry. Becky was crying. She had tears all over her cheeks.
“There must be other options,” her mommy said at last, but she no longer sounded so certain. “We need to talk to Avery Johnson, raise the possibility. See what can be worked out.…”
“He can’t go to prison, Sandy. I won’t let that happen. I won’t.”
Sandy rubbed her arms. “I don’t know what to do anymore,” she murmured. “I feel … like the worst is still to come.”
“I’ll think of something, Sandy. He’s my son. Give me time, and I’ll come up with something.”
Becky’s mommy finally nodded. Becky clutched Big Bear hard and slid away from the doorway. Her heart was pounding hard in her chest now. She had the heavy feeling, where she could barely breathe.
She wanted to run into the family room. She wanted to throw her arms around her daddy’s legs and beg him to leave Danny alone. But just like at the school, she was too frightened. Her mouth wouldn’t work.
She went back to her bedroom. She started throwing blankets and clothes in her closet for cover. Big Bear would need a place to hide. And Mrs. Beetle and Polly the Pony and her new kitten.
Becky had a lot of work to do.
Bad things were gonna happen if people pushed Danny. Very bad things. The monster was still out there, and if Danny wasn’t smart, if Becky wasn’t smart, he’d kill them all.
He had promised.
Rainie started her preparations the minute she got off the phone with Quincy. First she mowed her lawn. Then she took care of the edging. The high grass would make the tracks too easy to see for what needed to happen next.
She put on a mask. She grabbed a shovel. She ignored the ringing phone and went to work, not letting herself think about what had to be done. Afterward she raked the grass back up to cover the marks. Then she took a long hot shower and steamed the rich, moist earth from her hands.
Another hour, toiling with the shotgun, just in case.
A little after two, as she returned from the trunk of her patrol car with her substitute 9-millimeter and backup .22, her phone started ringing again. She didn’t answer but then heard Luke’s voice on the machine.
She picked up the receiver as he was still calling her name.
“I’m here.”
“Jesus, Rainie. Where the hell have you been? Sanders is going nuts trying to find you.”
“I mowed my lawn. How are things in Portland?”
“Muddled.” Luke sounded confused. She could hear the sounds of traffic, so he must be using his cell phone. “You took the morning to do yard work?”
“The grass didn’t seem to realize murder was a good excuse not to grow. Why are things muddled in Portland?”
“Daniel Avalon has disappeared. We were supposed to meet at his office this morning, but his secretary’s been stalling me with one feeble excuse after another. I finally tried his wife. Looks like Mr. Avalon didn’t come home last night. And, get this, I drove by his hunting cabin on the way to Portland. It’s definitely been recently used.”
“You think he’s Dave Duncan.”
“Well, with the right disguise … Hell, anything’s possible.” Luke sighed. “I put out an APB with his ‘normal’ description, plus a description of his car and the cabin. It’s the best I can do for now.”
“I’m sure he’ll turn up shortly,” Rainie said neutrally. Her eyes had already gone to her back deck.
“Rainie … I made Angelina show me the gun cabinet. One of the shotguns is missing. I don’t think that’s a good thing.”
“Fire with fire,” Rainie murmured.
“I’m coming back to Bakersville, okay? There’s nothing for me to do here anymore and I’d feel better if I were back in town.”
“Whatever you think is best, Luke.”
“Good.” He hesitated. She could hear the unspoken questions still in his voice. She and Luke went way back. He would come if she asked him to. He would die for her if it came to that; he was that kind of man.
But she was who she was, too, and she couldn’t ask anyone to pay for her sins.
He said, “Rainie …”
And she said, “I’m a big girl, Luke. I know what I’m doing.”
She recradled the phone. The hour was growing late and she didn’t have much time to waste. She went with a simple white cotton shirt, covered by a light jacket, perfect for concealing her handgun. She paired the top with long jeans that flared at the ankle. Perfect for disguising her backup .22.
She took her ID. She would need it to get in
to the Cabot County Youth Detention Facility. After that, however, she considered herself on her own. Not Officer Lorraine Conner but simply Rainie, doing what she should’ve done days ago.
She prepared one last surprise in her family room, just in case. Then she glanced at her watch. Danny was due to be moved at five P.M. Shep had decided he wanted Danny to be examined at the nearby psychiatric hospital. That didn’t give her much time.
Rainie hit the road in her own beat-up Nissan. An hour later she sat across from Danny O’Grady, whose thin, gaunt face was a close match for her own.
“Danny,” she said quietly, “I think it’s time we talked.”
She didn’t leave until he’d told her everything.
Quincy walked tiredly down the hospital corridor toward the room he’d hoped never to see again. He’d had to pass through Chicago on his way to Dulles, and his damn flight from Portland had landed forty-five minutes late, forcing him to run for his gate. He’d been terrified of missing his connecting flight, terrified of being stranded at O’Hare. Terrified of having to call Bethie and tell her he was missing another momentous occasion in his daughter’s life. This one, though, would definitely be the last. Ha ha ha.
His thoughts were raw. He felt both exhausted and wired, the way he did when he approached a fresh crime scene, and that unsettled him even more.
A few nurses saw him walking and nodded in greeting. He recognized their faces but didn’t remember their names.
Finally he was at the door. That damn smell again. And the overwhelming sense of white. He had been raised to believe that death wore black. He felt needlessly betrayed.
He put on his game face, for he knew no other way to enter the room, then briskly opened the door.
Bethie was curled up in a chair next to the bed, sound asleep. Her dark hair had lightened in the last few years but curved gracefully around her shoulders. With her taupe slacks and fine silk sweater, she looked much too nice to be spending her days in a hospital room. Quincy felt instantly guilty, his most common emotion when it came to his ex-wife.
He cleared his throat. She woke up slowly, blinking her blue eyes and looking startled to see him.
“Pierce? Done saving the world already? I figured it would take you at least another week.”
Quincy ignored her sarcasm and gazed upon his elder daughter. Amanda’s face was still covered in white gauze. Tubes and needles bristled across her prostrate form and nearly obscured a body that had once been defined by slender grace. The violence of keeping her alive shocked him once more. It slowed his steps.
“I came as fast as I could,” he told Bethie as he picked up Mandy’s hand. He squeezed gently. There was no response. He studied her small pale fingers against his palm. He marveled at her fingernails, dutifully growing long and pink while the rest of her withered away. It seemed like only yesterday those were baby fingers, gripping his thumb tight.
“I don’t understand,” Bethie said from behind him. “I thought you’d had enough.”
“I wasn’t going to miss this, Bethie. I’d always planned on being here, once you were ready.”
“When I’m ready for what?”
Quincy turned around. He was still holding Mandy’s hand, but now he was registering the genuine confusion on his ex-wife’s face. His stomach plummeted. Someplace deep inside him had just gone cold.
“Someone from the hospital staff called. You’re ready to turn off life support—”
“I most certainly am not!”
“Bethie—”
“Is this some kind of trick of yours, Pierce? Do you think this little melodrama will force my hand? Because it won’t work. I am not killing my daughter just to convenience your schedule.”
“Bethie—” But he didn’t say anything more. She had no idea what he was talking about. He’d been set up, and he’d walked into the trap as meekly as a mouse.
Oh God, Rainie.
Quincy replaced Mandy’s hand on the sheet. He kissed her temple. His hands had started to shake.
“No changes?”
“No changes,” Bethie said stiffly.
“And Kimberly?”
“Settled back in at college, I suppose. Not that she bothers to call.”
Quincy nodded and tried not to appear too hasty as he headed for the door.
“Thanks for visiting,” Bethie called out sarcastically behind him. “Do come again.”
Quincy stopped for just a moment in the doorway. “It’s not your fault,” he said honestly. “What happened to Mandy, it was not your fault.”
“I don’t blame myself,” Bethie said thickly. “I blame you.”
Quincy headed down the hallway. The minute he was in the parking lot, he flipped open his cell phone. His first call was to his friend in the crime lab, who had received the sabot late last night.
“Did you enter it into DRUGFIRE?”
“Jeez, Quincy, nice to hear from you too.”
“I don’t have time, Kenny. Where are you with the sabot?”
“Well, if you’d bothered to check your voice mail, you’d know I worked on it all friggin’ night. The rifling matches with two other shootings, Quince. Two other school shootings. And both those cases are considered closed, with two kids in jail. So if these crimes are still happening … Get your butt to Quantico, Quincy. You’re kind of in demand.”
“I’m going back to Oregon. Fax everything to the Bakersville number as soon as you can.”
“Are you nuts? We have the same gun used in three separate school shootings in three separate cities over a ten-year span. What do you think is going to happen next?”
“He’s going to kill Rainie,” Quincy said simply. “It’s part of his game. Drive her over the edge, then attack when she’s down. And I didn’t see it coming. Shit, I didn’t see it coming, and now I’m all the way across the fucking country!”
And then he was off the phone and in a taxicab, where he yelled at the driver to go fast, fast, fast, while he thought of his daughter and all those moments in his life when he hadn’t done enough.
THIRTY-TWO
Saturday, May 19, 4:48 P.M.
Danny was exhausted. Long after Rainie left, he lay on his bed, curled in a ball, staring at the same spot on the floor. He had told her everything. He shouldn’t have, but he had, and now he was drained.
She had told him that secrets made things worse. She had told him that secrets gave the man power over him. Danny didn’t know anymore. He had so many pictures in his mind. He wished he could turn off his brain and make everything go away.
This morning his hands had started trembling, and now they wouldn’t stop. This morning the cold had left him and now he was filled with a burning pain. He hated the feel of his own skin. He hated the sight of his face in the mirror. He wanted something sharp so he could slice away his fingers. Then he wouldn’t have to see them holding a gun or pulling a trigger. Then he would hurt outside the way he hurt inside, and somehow that would be more right.
He was tired. But he couldn’t sleep. He was worried about Becky. He should make himself move, do something. He didn’t know what.
Footsteps came down the corridor. One of the guides appeared. He was smiling, jolly, like a clown. “It’s that time,” he said cheerily.
Danny looked at him blankly.
“You’re going on a field trip, Mr. O’Grady. Your parents are sending you to the funny farm.” Mr. Jolly laughed at his joke.
Danny curled up more tightly on the bed.
Two men materialized behind Mr. Jolly. They wore uniforms and looked vaguely familiar to Danny. They held up shackles. If you left the walls of the detention center, you had to be shackled. There was no point in avoiding it anymore. They would take him one way or another.
Off to the funny farm. His insides burned. He wished he had something sharp.
Danny stood as ordered. He held up his arms. The younger guy did his ankles first. He didn’t make it very tight. Not as tight as the last guy had done. That guy had cut into
Danny’s skin and left welts. Danny had known from the look on the man’s face that that was what he wanted.
Danny kept quiet. The younger guy had the belt around his waist now. His hands were chained in front of him to the belt. He was done.
The older man nodded. “Danny,” he said roughly, familiarly.
Danny figured he must know the man. Maybe a friend of his father’s. Good old Shep loved the brotherhood of the uniform. Couldn’t be easy to be a cop now.
The patrol officers led him out to a Cabot County police cruiser. They stuck him in the back, then climbed into the front. The two men kept looking at each other but didn’t say much.
Danny didn’t ask any questions. He didn’t know why he was going to the funny farm or for how long or what happened when he got there. He still didn’t ask any questions. He just wished he had something sharp. Cut away his fingers. Never have to gaze at his hands anymore. Miss Avalon, Miss Avalon, Miss Avalon.
“Run, Danny, run!”
The car started moving. The older man studied Danny in the rearview mirror. Danny didn’t like his look. He hunched his shoulders and tried to be small.
Ten minutes later the older man said to the younger man, “What do you think?”
“I guess it’s as good a spot as any.”
“Hey, you,” the older man said to Danny. “Hold on, kid.”
Suddenly, the car swerved. One minute they were on the road, the next the car went bouncing down the embankment. Danny thought the man would try to brake. Instead he hit the gas. Boom.
The impact slammed Danny forward into the divider. He blinked his eyes. It took several seconds more for the dust to clear. When he finally had his senses together, he realized the patrol car was smashed against a tree. Steam came from beneath the hood. The two cops looked bleary, and the younger one had blood on his forehead.