The Redemption Man

by James Carver

  Lazard tutted in frustration, shuffled his documents away into a plastic folder, and called out, “Come in!”

  The door opened and a tall, broad gentleman dressed in black entered. A priest.

  “Hello, Dr. Lazard. My name’s Devlin. Father Devlin.”

  Lazard took a beat to respond, and when he did it was without courtesy or warmth. “Good afternoon, Father. I will of course honor this appointment, but doesn’t your church provide medical cover? This is a free clinic, you know.”

  Devlin sat and stretched out his legs, making himself very comfortable, which irritated Lazard profoundly, having this big man taking up his space and time.

  “As a matter of fact, it’s not my health I’m here about.”

  Lazard stiffened. “If you are not here as a patient, then I don’t have time to talk I’m afraid. As you will have seen in the waiting room, I am very busy.”

  “Yeah, I booked this slot with the receptionist. And I absolutely promise you I’ll be two minutes. You’re such a busy man it was the only way I could get a moment to speak to you.”

  Lazard glanced at his watch. “Well, please be quick. You are taking a genuine patient’s time.”

  “I will be.” Devlin’s attention was caught by the orange plastic folder sitting on the desk by Lazard’s elbow. From what Devlin could see, it looked like it contained patient notes. Lazard noticed where Devlin’s gaze had fallen, and for a split second his usually expressionless face assumed a kind of panic. It was minute and fleeting, and Lazard immediately returned to his controlled, robotic self, but not before Devlin had registered it. Lazard hastily lifted the folder off the table, opened the top drawer of his desk, and dropped the folder in. The drawer was then firmly shut, making sure the documents were out of Devlin’s sight.

  “Now, please, what can I help you with?” asked Lazard impatiently.

  “I’m looking for a friend of mine. We served in the Air Force together. He’s gone missing. His name’s Ed James.”

  Devlin let the name drop to see Lazard’s reaction. But Lazard’s face was blank. This time it didn’t register a single thought or feeling. Like a reptile on a rock.

  “Ed James…” Lazard replied after a moment. “Yes. He was my driver. Part-time. He drove me around when I came into Halton a couple of days a week.”

  “When was the last time you saw him?”

  “Not since my last visit to Halton a few weeks ago. He was meant to pick me up from the airport on Saturday but didn’t show.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Did you try to contact him?”

  “Of course. I phoned, but he didn’t pick up.”

  “And you didn’t think that was odd?”

  “Odd? Of course I thought it was odd. I was very upset with him. But what could I do? He’d only worked for me for a month or so anyhow. I just have to find another driver.”

  “In the time before he disappeared, did you notice any change in his behavior? Anything he said? Anything odd? A name that he might have mentioned?”

  Lazard’s cold eyes gave no suggestion of his thoughts as he considered his answer. Then he casually replied, “No. Nothing like that. I just thought he’d had a better offer somewhere and taken a different job.”

  “Did he seem scared at all? Upset?”

  “No.”

  “How did he come to work for you, Doctor?”

  “I think he was recommended to me by someone.”

  “Who?”

  Lazard crossed his arms and shook his head. “You know, I can’t honestly remember… Someone at Freedom Medical perhaps. They booked my flights and hotel, so it would probably have been someone there. A secretary or what have you.”

  It was plain Lazard had decided to stonewall Devlin. The man barely bothered hiding his dislike of Devlin. So Devlin decided to take another tack.

  “You’re a heart and lung specialist, aren’t you, Dr. Lazard?”

  “Yes.”

  “You must be a very rich man.”

  “It’s really none of your business.”

  “Why are you coming here a few days a week to work for no pay?”

  Lazard had had enough. His delivery became even more clipped and staccato. “Father Devlin, I was born a long time ago in Sarajevo. Before I was rich, I was very, very poor. I was once an illegal immigrant, stateless and powerless. But my story has a happy ending. Many do not. You of all people, Father, should know about wanting to give something back to the community.”

  “So why Halton Springs? There are plenty of poor people in LA.”

  “Because Marie Vallory and Congressman Clay Logan wanted me. And I accepted. Now, I thought we were talking about Mr. James?”

  “Your own fault, Dr. Lazard. You’re just a very interesting man.”

  “I think our time has ended, Father,” said Lazard, standing. “My many patients today aren’t interested in my life story; they simply want a good doctor.”

  Devlin left Lazard’s office and walked out of the center. He got into his car and lit up a cigar. He took a deep chest full of smoke and blasted it up against the roof. He was so damn tired of rich men giving him short, unhelpful answers. He’d tailed around Halton, Dayton, and Columbus. He’d asked people very nicely, and it had got him nowhere. So now he was going to stop asking.

  He switched the radio on and caught a news bulletin. A manhunt for Earl was in full swing. According to the bulletin, two teams of Halton PD police were heading into the forest, one from the southwest and another from the southeast, just by the Logan Ranch. Cops from Shelby County had begun to comb down from the north with more cops stationed along the east and west perimeter. Wright Patterson had supplied two Chinooks for air surveillance. And Stevens was leading it all. They were throwing everything at this, thought Devlin. It was a full-on assault on Long Pine. The irony wasn’t lost on Devlin that the deputy was close to getting his man yet Devlin couldn’t be farther away.

  It was time to change strategy.

  He rubbed out his half-smoked cigar in the ashtray and got out of the car. He headed back into the medical center and approached the receptionist.

  “Hello, Father.”

  “Hi…again. I meant to use the restroom before, but I forgot. Could I…?”

  “Of course. Just back down the left-hand corridor and last door on your right.”

  “Thanks.”

  Devlin entered the restroom, had a quick look round, and checked the stalls. Then he washed his hands and left. On the way back, instead of turning right and heading directly back to the reception, he walked along the back hallway, which connected up the two main hallways that ran the length of the building. Devlin passed an emergency exit door with a pushdown bar that released the lock and gave access to the rear. He made a mental note of it and carried on around into the lengthways hallway on the other side of the building. Then he exited the medical center, walked back to his car, and called Fox.

  Fox was watching WDTN in her office when Devlin called.

  “Shit,” exclaimed Fox. “Have you seen what’s going down in fucking Long Pine?”

  “‘Anyone ever told you you cuss a lot, Fox?”

  “Yeah, you and my grandmother, and she’s dead. It’s crazy. You heard what’s going on with Earl? They found his DNA at the McKenzie kid’s place.”

  “Yeah, I’ve been listening to the news bulletins.”

  “It’s like a war zone up there. Earl Logan, a killer…well, it ain’t exactly a surprise.”

  “No. I guess not.”

  “How did it go with Lazard?”

  “Not so great. I’m outside the center now. I just saw him. He’s telling me nothing, but I know he knows something about Ed. I know he’s lying to me. Both he and Stein are lying about Ed. And I hate being lied to.”

  “So, what you gonna do?”

  “I got an idea. It’s pretty radical though. You may not have the chops for it…”

  “Fuck you. What is it?”

 
; “We break in. Tonight.”

  “To the center?”

  “Yep.” There was a pause, and the line went silent.

  Then Fox replied, “Why can’t you do it yourself?”

  “Because there’s only one good way in, and I don’t fit.”

  “But we’d be caught! We’ll go to jail!”

  “You’d be in and out in a minute. You just have to open another way in for me; then you can scoot.” Fox didn’t answer. “And I promise you, you won’t get caught.”

  “You can’t make that kind of promise, Devlin.”

  “Yes I can.”

  “How?”

  “Because right now nearly every damn cop in Ohio is up at Long Pine looking for Earl. Tonight is the perfect night, Fox. There’s never been one like it. All I need is two minutes in there to get a look at Lazard’s office.”

  More silence.

  “I got you a big story, Fox,” Devlin added. “Career changing possibly.”

  “I got you the Logan accounts. We’re even,” replied Fox.

  “When I find Ed, and I will, it’ll be one hell of a story. It has to be. Like you said, there’s so much smoke here, there’s got to be one hell of a fire. Come on, Fox, don’t make me beg…”

  Fox hesitated, unsure of what her answer should be. Ever since she first encountered Devlin, the walls of Fox’s small world had begun to crumble away. Each time they met took her a step further into some kind of adventure, away from small-town career paralysis. For the first time in years, life felt like a place of possibilities, a place where Fox could actually live. Against every sensible thought in her head, she heard herself replying, “Okay, Devlin. But you had better not fuck this up.”

  28

  The trees got so thick at times the officers on either side couldn’t be seen, even though they were only twenty yards away. About fifty cops, most of whom were out-of-towners from Clark County Sheriff’s Office, Xenia PD, Greene County Sheriff’s Office, and Jamestown PD to name but a few, had now been brought in to form part of a chain. They began sweeping up through Long Pine toward another line of officers descending from the north. Every department that had a K9 unit had assigned a dog and a handler to the hunt and been provided with an item of Earl’s clothing. But no scent had been picked up. Up above, the sound of helicopters flying over every half an hour brought a kind of comfort with them. It didn’t take long to feel alone out here.

  Evening had crept in and, at twenty-one hundred hours, nightfall was imminent. Visibility was down to flashlights with the aid of helicopter searchlights and the crews’ night vision devices.

  Although Caleb Walker was a self-contained man with a hard exterior, a formidable man who suspected any outward show of emotion to be a sign of weakness, he was having his own private struggle up there in the woods. The last time he’d been in dense forest at night carrying a rifle with air cover was over forty years ago in Cambodia, and it hadn’t ended well. His mustache was wet with perspiration, and his damp uniform clung to his body. Increasingly he’d anxiously look down, sweeping his flashlight along the ground for timber rattlers. He made the routine call in on his radio with Miller, who was at the other end of their section of the chain, about twenty officers away.

  “Miller, anything to report on your end?”

  “Nope. No sign of Logan here.”

  Then the radio crackled out. Pity. Walker was uncharacteristically in need of conversation. He tramped on over the wet forest floor with a ball of hot fear sitting deep in his guts.

  Miller, on the other hand, was in his element. Hunting was his great love, and he’d come up to Long Pine many times. On the years when the acorn crop wasn’t so great, all he needed to do was find a tree that was producing, stay by it, and he stood a hell of a good chance of bagging a deer. Imagine if he could bag himself a Logan. Surely he’d get some sort of decoration for that. He quietly murmured to himself as he often did when out hunting, “Move quietly and into the wind, and keep your senses sharp. You might get lucky and have one wander into you.”

  The sound of whooping blades moved toward him. Miller looked up to get sight of the searchlights. He hadn’t heard anyone except for Walker on his channel for about an hour. He guessed that Stevens must have moved out of range of the Motorola handhelds they’d been issued.

  Out of curiosity, from time to time when a helicopter flew over, he tried the frequency the helicopters were making air-to-ground contact on. Communications between the aerial team and the ground tactical net were restricted to Stevens as the incident commander, but the channel was open for everyone to listen in on. This time when he tuned in, his radio crackled and a faint voice could be heard. Miller pressed the radio to his ear and heard the helicopter pilot calling for a response. There was no answer, and the pilot called in again. No response. Miller stopped still and his heart quickened. If the pilot tried a third time and Stevens didn’t respond, then Miller would reply. After all, this was way too critical to stick to a protocol that obviously wasn’t operating as it should. The third call came in, and nothing came back from Stevens. Miller clicked his button and spoke.

  “This is Officer Miller, Halton Springs PD, on the ground.” The radio hissed, and Miller squeezed his ear flat against it to hear the reply.

  “Officer Miller, been trying to contact your incident commander, but our comms are all over the place. We got a heat signature showing on our thermal equipment up on the north ridge. Looks like someone hiding in a wooden shack of some kind. I don’t know who it is if it isn’t Logan.”

  Miller thought for a moment. Could it be this easy? He clicked the button and asked, “You sure it isn’t a black bear or something?”

  Again, a hiss, a buzz, and the voice responding. “Nope. Not the way the image is moving. I’m certain this isn’t a wild animal. Can you let Deputy Stevens know? We’re low on fuel, and we have to get back to Wright Patterson. There’ll be a new shift flying out and making contact soon as. Hopefully, they’ll be able to sort radio contact out.”

  “Leave it with me.”

  “Thanks. Head northeast toward Tar Ridge. We’ll send another crew ASAP for you to follow to the exact location.”

  Miller left his position and ran up the chain of cops to Walker. If they could get to Logan before that weak streak of piss Stevens, it would be the prize of the century. Miller was giddy, breathless, and bursting with excitement by the time he found the chief. It was like he had suddenly been told there really was a Santa Claus.

  29

  Peace.

  It was a word Earl had never given much thought to before. All that had ever animated him was fear and anger. Except when he’d been with Brendan maybe. Maybe then for small and fleeting moments, when he was safe and warm in Brendan’s love and acceptance, he came as close to peace as he was ever capable of being. But those moments were as quickly torn apart by jealousy and fear. Fear of being left. Alone. Left to carry on being Earl. And that was a hell he had found himself unable to face.

  He was sitting in a forest shelter he had built when he was a child and used to visit to be by himself. It was made out of branches and fern with the odd bough and had been built up and over to make a kind of wild wood cave. It sat on the mossy forest floor in the middle of a clearing. He used to come out here after school and after his dad had given him a beating, when the world was no longer comprehensible to him and nothing that he could do or say made his pain understood.

  He’d come here now because when he thought of all the places that meant home to him, this was the only one that still truly qualified. The Logan Ranch was a home that had deformed around him into something he did not recognize. Slowly and without Earl even noticing it was happening, he had been evicted. Exiled from paradise. Brendan had been his other home, and now that had gone. Forever.

  He could hear the rapid, sharp klee of a sparrowhawk and the rush of leaves and branches as they swayed back and forth. The earth was still damp, but the rain had cleared and night had settled. Earl listened to the forest
. It was like a thing alive, and he wondered at who he had been all his life. His wallet was open on the ground amongst the cans of tuna and packets of ramen noodles he’d brought with him. Next to the wallet lay a photo of Brendan, his face distorted by Earl’s tears.

  Earl heard a faint mechanical sound, a sound not of the forest. As it grew and became more distinct, Earl could make out the whooping blades and knew it must be here for him. As soon as he saw the news coverage, he had guessed that they would come for him. They had probably placed him at Brendan’s house. Witnesses maybe, traces of blood from where Brendan had cleaned Earl’s wounds. The uncontrollable sobs and howls that possessed Earl’s body heard by passersby. No one would listen to his side of the story. Earl Logan, infamously violent. Shunned and feared by nearly everyone. As soon as he was found, it would be all over for him.

  Well, so be it. After he’d fled in a panic into the forest, into hiding, he’d begun to reflect with a clarity that he’d never had before. He’d come to a decision. Let them come and find him. It was no more nor less than he deserved. In one way or another, he’d had this coming for a long time. He’d abused people, hurt people, torn their lives apart. Now he was ready to atone.

  Just half an hour more was all he wanted. Just a little more time to enjoy this strange new thing called peace. A sensation he had begun to feel growing within him right after he’d run into the priest. The priest. What had he done? What miracle had he performed?

  He found that his hands were pressed together. So he began to pray. For no reason he could give, he prayed to the Archangel Michael. He didn’t have any idea who the Archangel Michael might be, but he sounded like someone grand enough to have the power to save his soul.

  30

  Stevens looked to his right and could now see a line of lights from police flashlights arcing through the darkness. Next on from him that way was Officer Gray. He’d had his routine call in with the Shelby County police coming down from the north but got nothing from Walker or Miller. He tried again to raise them but heard nothing but crackles. Even if the search had moved outside the handheld radio’s area of operational coverage, he should have been getting some kind of communication from the Chinooks. Goddamn, these guys were costing four hundred dollars a flight and not coordinating or producing any leads. Things were getting hairy. Stevens was trying to steer a huge, unwieldy ship without anyone telling him where the hell the icebergs were.