Riven

by Jerry B. Jenkins

  As Brady mounted the inside staircase, he was glad he wasn’t up to anything, because as he followed the man up, the rest followed him. Apparently his life was in Tiny’s hands already.

  Had this been a movie, Brady would have expected Tiny to be sitting on a throne, wearing bling and surrounded by beauties. It turned out Tiny was wearing a sleeveless T-shirt and lounging on a dilapidated couch, watching TV. He looked even bigger than Brady remembered. Being out seemed to agree with his appetite.

  Tiny grunted as he leaned over to shut off the set. “My brother,” he said, and they traded the handshake Brady had learned inside.

  “How do you get cable in here?” Brady said.

  “I get anything I want wherever I want. Don’t ask, don’t tell. You a brave boy, comin’ into this neighborhood.”

  “Your turf,” Brady said. “That makes it mine too.”

  Tiny grinned. “My man. You bring me anything? You owe me for a lot of years. You get your stash from the armored truck job?”

  “Actually, I need your help on that.”

  “Oh, man!”

  “The guy who’s got my share has it in the suburbs and won’t give it to me. If I can just borrow a car and a cell phone . . .”

  Tiny laughed, his fleshy arms jiggling. “Oh, is that all? I’m supposed to trust you with that?”

  “For fifty percent of a hundred large.”

  “Seventy.”

  “Deal.”

  Tiny nodded to one of his associates. “We got any legit rides available? I don’t want my boy pulled over for grand theft auto. And let me borrow a cell phone.” He turned to Brady. “For how long, brother? When’s this go down?”

  “Tonight. I bring back everything, including your share, before midnight.”

  “Cool. You need any help?”

  “Uh, no. Your guys just might stand out in the suburbs.”

  “What’re you sayin’?” Tiny said, laughing. “I been trying to get into the suburbs for years. What you gonna leave me for collateral?”

  “I got nothin’, man. Like forty bucks if you need it.”

  Tiny snorted. “If I need forty dollars, I need more help than you can give me. You know what happens if you do me wrong.”

  “You don’t even have to think about that, man. I know I owe you big-time.”

  “Yeah, and a lot more than this.”

  “I know.”

  “You gonna be carryin’, right? You don’t stand for somebody trying to stiff you.”

  This was exactly what Brady had hoped for, a weapon without having to ask for it. He knew Tiny would think of everything.

  “What do you suggest?”

  “Got to take a piece, man. Don’t have to use it. Just wave it in his face. He’ll have to go change his pants.”

  “You got something I could use?”

  “Yeah. The bigger the better. You ever see a sawed-off?”

  “Used to own one.”

  “Double-barrel over/under with double trigger?”

  “You’re kidding.”

  Tiny turned to another lackey. “Get him that gun and make sure both chambers are full. Put the safety on. This boy likely to kill hisself.”

  Everybody laughed, including Brady.

  Tiny walked him down to the car, handed him the phone, and tossed the shotgun into the backseat.

  “Anything goes wrong, you stole this car and this weapon and this phone, you understand? You don’t know who ever owned any of ’em.”

  “Sure, ’course.”

  “Don’t let me down, Darby.”

  “You kidding? I brought you this job, chief.”

  “Yeah, and it could be a good start, depending on how it goes. Make this one work, we’ll talk more business.”

  More business. As Brady pulled the late-model sedan out of the west side, he knew he’d never see Tiny again. He would kill Jordan North if he had to, ditch the car, the shotgun, and the phone. Then he and Katie would be off to wherever they had to go to be sure no one traced them to the murder. And where Tiny could never find him.

  Brady had no idea where that might be, but Katie would know. She knew everything. Best of all, she could afford anything.

  52

  Addison

  After a lifetime of lying and a fascination with acting, Brady Darby had an imagination that wouldn’t quit. It had landed him behind bars more times than he cared to count, and it was at full throttle now as he carefully—sans driver’s license—drove toward the suburbs and the North mansion.

  Despite the scenario playing out in his mind, Brady wasn’t thinking about the consequences. He rarely did. All he imagined now was rescuing the love of his life from her spiteful, overbearing father. He meant only to scare the man, if it even came to that, but Brady was so saturated with passion that he ruled out nothing. All he could see in the future was him and his soul mate waking up next to each other somewhere—anywhere.

  One of the coasts would be cool. But even if it was just a hotel in the middle of nowhere or even some abandoned hideaway, that was okay too. The system, Serenity, Tiny? They’d soon give up looking for him. The Norths? Katie could call them from here or there to assure them she was fine and to tell them that she had made her choice and was following her heart.

  Brady didn’t know why Katie hadn’t called or taken his calls. Of course, she had caller ID. That was the advantage of his having the phone of one of Tiny’s girlfriends. When Katie saw the strange number with the downtown area code, she would have to pick up out of curiosity alone.

  Within a mile of Katie’s subdivision, Brady was so excited he could barely sit still. What could be better than this? He had given his all at Serenity, had even considered the straight life if that’s what it took to win Katie. But though she had been raised to be a good girl, the straight life sure didn’t seem to appeal to her.

  Brady had been making progress, had proved he might even be a candidate for normal life as a free man. But that would soon be a distant memory. He didn’t really want to be a sap anyway, a working stiff, a nine-to-fiver. He was smart enough to hide in plain sight, get himself a new ID, start a new life. With Katie at his side, all things were possible.

  As he pressed her number into the phone, he allowed himself for the first time to wonder if she was even at home. Was it possible her father had kicked her out? So much the better. Brady would pick her up wherever she was.

  Her number was ringing. Don’t go to voice mail! Please!

  “Hello?” Katie said.

  “It’s me, babe.”

  “Brady? What phone are you calling from?”

  “Borrowed it.”

  “Oh. Uh, hi.”

  “Hi, baby. I got that letter from your dad and I’ve just got to see you.”

  “Letter?”

  She had to know. “All official and everything, threatening me, talking about his lawyer, telling me to never see you again and that you weren’t really interested in me. Can you imagine?”

  “Oh, man. Well, you know, he’s just upset. He doesn’t speak for me.”

  “I know! I know! I’ve just got to have you tell me to my face that we’ve still got something going. In fact, I’m ready to get married if you want.”

  “Married?”

  “C’mon, we’ve been talking around it forever. I’ve got wheels, and I’m ready to go. Where are you?”

  “I’m home, but—”

  “I’m almost there. Pack a bag and sneak out. I’ll pick you up a block away.”

  “Brady, no. My dad and I are half getting along right now, and there’s no sense—”

  “I thought you said he didn’t speak for you.”

  “He doesn’t, but I’m not ready to just up and—”

  “We’re still okay though, aren’t we? I mean, I’m glad if you’re getting along with your dad better. And I’ve got to find a way to do that too, don’t I?”

  “Um-hm.”

  “But I can’t just show up there after getting his letter,” Brady said. “We�
��ve got to figure this out, make a plan. You’ve got to work on him for me.”

  “Um-hm.”

  “I’m pulling into the area right now. I’ll wait at the corner, all right?”

  “I can’t go anywhere tonight, Brady.”

  “I know. I just need to see you and talk to you, that’s all. We can figure out the rest later.”

  “He’s going to be suspicious.”

  “What do you care? Tell him anything, but just come and talk to me in the car.”

  “How’d you get a car?”

  “Never mind, from a friend, who cares? Now I’m parking and I’ll be waiting. You coming?”

  “I’ll try.”

  “Don’t try! Just do it. Tell him you’re going for a walk.”

  “I don’t go for walks.”

  “Katie, I’m serious. I am not leaving till I see you. You want me to come there and start something with your dad?”

  Silence.

  “I didn’t think so. He’s not ready for that and neither am I. Don’t make me come there. Because I will and I mean it.”

  “No, don’t come. I’ll see if I can slip out.”

  “That’s my girl.”

  Brady sat there aware that this had to be one of those neighborhood watch areas and that concerned eyes could be peeking at him from any number of windows. He kept wrenching around, looking for Katie, all the while recalibrating his plans. If she wasn’t ready to run off with him tonight, he’d have to get back to Serenity. But then Tiny would soon know where he was.

  Maybe he should pull a heist in this neighborhood. Problem was, who knew if anybody had cash lying around? Maybe Katie had an idea. Brady had never burglarized a home, though he’d heard enough stories from guys inside who had. He would be a lot more comfortable with a partner or even a team.

  Katie seemed tentative as she approached, and he realized she wouldn’t recognize the car. He waved and leaned over to open the passenger door, and she slid in. Brady reached for her, but she wasn’t her usual self. She seemed to halfheartedly return his hug, and when he went to kiss her, she turned and took it on the cheek. “Man, I’ve missed you, babe,” he said.

  She smiled thinly. “Thanks.”

  “Where’ve you been, Katie?”

  “Busy. Whew. Dad’s really clamping down, and I guess it’s time to start acting like an adult.”

  Brady cocked his head and squinted at her. “Hello? I’m looking for Katie North. Where’s the rebel I knew?”

  “Oh, you know. Growing up.”

  “In just a few days? It wasn’t that long ago you had me cutting Harley cookies on your lawn.”

  “I know. But enough’s enough.”

  “What happened?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Your dad got to you, didn’t he?”

  “I guess.”

  “What, he threatened to cut you off?”

  “Only if I see you.”

  “So we’re both taking it in the teeth from this guy.”

  “This guy? Brady, you’re talking about my father.”

  “I know who I’m talking about. What do you think, I don’t know? Oh, I know all right. This is the guy who threatened to report me if I tried to see you again. Told me someone like you wouldn’t ever really be interested in someone like me. Well, what does that make me, Katie? What does that say about your taste in men? You gonna let him decide who you’re going to be in love with?”

  “In love? Brady, we’ve had a lot of fun, but we’re not in love. At least I’m not.”

  “What?”

  “It’s been fun, a game.”

  “It wasn’t a game to me! I want to get married.”

  “Married? Oh, Brady, no. Now, come on.”

  “What, so it’s true? A girl like you could never—?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “No, your dad did, and you’re proving he was right.”

  “Seriously now, Brady, did you really think there was a future for us?”

  “There is!”

  “Um, no. There isn’t. And I’m sorry if you didn’t get that, but there never was.”

  “You were playing me?”

  “Brady, please. I thought we were both just playing. How would it have worked out? I marry you and then what? What do you do? Where do you work? What happens next?”

  “So the whole thing was a big joke?”

  “I didn’t mean to mislead you, I really didn’t.”

  “You were conning me!”

  “No, that’s not it. Now I’m sorry, but I’ve got to go.”

  “Wait! So now that you know how I really feel about you, that’s it? It’s over?”

  “I’m flattered, really I am, but I don’t feel the same, so I think it’s better that we just—”

  “Wait!”

  But she had opened her door and the interior light came on.

  “Wait! I’ve got something for you.”

  “Brady, listen, now, come on. Do you need me to be clear that we’re officially over?”

  “Don’t say that! I love you!”

  “Stop! Okay, I admit it. I used you to tick off my dad.”

  “We had way more than that going, Katie.”

  “No! We didn’t.”

  She turned to leave. He grabbed her arm. “Please,” he said.

  “I helped him write the letter, Brady, okay? I know that’s hard to hear, but you need to hear it.”

  Brady reached into the backseat and grabbed the sawed-off, flicking off the safety as he brought it forward and stuck it within inches of her face.

  He saw the panic in her eyes. She opened her mouth but couldn’t seem to make a sound.

  He loved her so much. Wanted her so badly. Needed her so desperately.

  When she turned to flee, he pulled the trigger.

  The explosion deafened Brady, and the twelve-gauge pack of buckshot had barely escaped the muzzle and had no time to release and spread before it hit her. The concussion removed most of Katie’s head, drove her body into the half-open door, and blew it off its hinges onto the grass.

  She lay next to it in a motionless heap.

  Brady sat quivering as the acrid smoke cleared, sickened by the blood and tissue left inside the car. Lights came on all over the neighborhood, and he heard shouting.

  He turned the weapon and pressed it to his heart.

  Click!

  He had emptied both barrels into the love of his life.

  Anyone else might have thrown the car into gear and raced away. But Brady didn’t want to live. If only Tiny had given him one more shell . . .

  Nothing had ever gone right for Brady Darby. And now he couldn’t even kill himself.

  With the car still idling, he opened his door and rolled out, landing on the pavement on his hands and knees. He vomited and howled like an animal, heaving great sobs in the night. Soon he was surrounded by men in bathrobes, one on his cell phone to the police, two others leveling hunting rifles at him.

  He was vaguely aware that a couple was making their way around to the other side of the car. The woman screamed.

  53

  Addison

  Katie North was not really an heiress, except in the usual way rich kids would benefit from the passing of their parents. But the press dubbed her the Murdered Heiress, and thus, Brady Wayne Darby became the Heiress Murderer.

  The newspapers and magazines and news shows dug up everyone anywhere who knew the victim or the perpetrator, alternating interviews between the upper crust and the other side of the tracks. It made for interesting television, if little else.

  Friends of the Norths called Katie a troubled rebel who had recently reconciled with her family.

  Acquaintances of Brady—some from as far back as Touhy Trailer Park, even his own mother—called him a dreamer, a career criminal, selfish, heartless, and cruel.

  “He was always up to no good,” Erlene Darby said, her shy husband shifting nervously in the background. “Hasn’t spoke to me in years.”

 
; Brady’s aunt Lois told the TV people that despite his troubled past, he had been doing well and that “this was a surprise and we wouldn’t be shocked to find out it was an accident.”

  One of the first questions Brady was asked when he was processed into isolation at the Adamsville County Jail was whether he was suicidal. “You have no idea,” he whispered.

  “Is that a yes?”

  He closed his eyes and nodded.

  Brady was put on suicide watch and issued prison garb that contained nothing he could fashion into a death tool. He spent the night in a padded cell with recessed, grill-covered lights that never went off. A guard sat outside, and a small video camera in the ceiling slowly swept from corner to corner with a quiet whine.

  The next morning Brady was escorted to a room where a tall, thin man in his early thirties introduced himself as Jackie Kent. Everything about Kent was straight and narrow—his dark, short hair, his nose, his ears, his chin, his tie, his suit, even his trench coat and shoes.

  He proved to be one of those get-to-the-point guys.

  Jackie pulled a sheaf of papers from his briefcase as he sat across from Brady. “Know that part in the Miranda warning where they tell you that if you can’t afford a lawyer, one will be provided for you, blah, blah, blah? That’s me. I’m what’s called a contract attorney. Firm I work for contracts for a certain number of these cases a year and assigns them to people at my level. We each get about one case a day for every day of the year, including weekends and holidays, and I’m not exaggerating. I had exactly 365 cases last year. All that for about twenty-five hundred dollars a month, not a dime of which comes from your pocket.”

  “I’m guilty,” Brady said. “What do I need you for?”

  “Everybody deserves representation. You did yourself no favors by spilling your guts to the police and trying to plead guilty.”

  “I am.”

  “So you’ve said. But you don’t plead your case to the police. You plead it to the court. If you decide to plead guilty—”

  “Aren’t you listening?”

  “If you decide to plead guilty, you do the county a big favor, and that ought to be worth something. It might even be worth your life. You see? You withhold your plea until that offer is floated before you. They say they could try you and put you to death or you can plead guilty and get life without parole. You might rather be dead, but—”