Here and Gone(24)

She thought: Did Patrick do this? Could he?

Audra supposed Sheriff Whiteside must have been here all night, keeping an eye on her. The camera up in the corner had remained on her all that time, its little red light staring at her. She had turned away from it, but she felt it burning like a laser between her shoulder blades. Now, as the custody suite’s shadows sharpened, she lay on her back, watching it watching her.

Then the light went out.

Audra stayed quite still for a few seconds, waiting for it to come back on again. When it didn’t, she sat upright, ignoring the fresh flares of pain as her feet dropped to the floor. An alarm sounded somewhere inside of her, telling her this was wrong, this shouldn’t be. The camera should not be switched off. Why would it—?

Before she could finish the question in her mind, the door to the custody suite opened, and Whiteside entered, followed by Collins. Audra’s hands gripped the edge of the bunk as her heart quickened. Whiteside marched to the cell door, unlocked it, slid it aside.

‘What?’ Audra asked, her voice rising in fear.

Whiteside stood aside to let Collins enter, then followed her inside.

‘What do you want?’

Neither of the police officers spoke as they approached the bunk. Audra’s hands went up, a reflex, an act of surrender.

‘Please, what do-?’

In one motion, Collins took Audra’s arm, hoisted her up, and threw her to the cell floor. Audra sprawled there, her palms and elbows stinging. She put her hands over her head, ready for a blow from either of them.

‘What do you-?’

Collins grabbed the collar of Audra’s T-shirt, pulled her up onto her knees. Audra looked up at Whiteside’s blank face, opened her mouth to speak again, to plead, but Collins gripped the back of her neck, forced her head down, so she could only see the sheriff from the waist up.

Enough to see him draw a revolver from behind his back.

‘Oh God, no.’

He pressed the muzzle against the top of her head.

‘Oh, God, please, don’t.’ Audra’s bladder ached. ‘Please don’t, please don’t, please—’

He cocked the pistol, the metallic sound of it bouncing between the walls and bars. Collins tightened her grip on Audra’s neck.

Audra raised her hands as if in prayer. ‘Oh, Jesus, please, no, please, don’t—’

A single hard SNAP! as Whiteside pulled the trigger, the hammer falling on an empty chamber.

Audra cried out, a long guttural wail. Collins released her neck.

Whiteside returned the pistol to his waistband.

Audra collapsed to the floor as they left. She curled in on herself, knees to her chest, hands clasped over her head. In the dim early light, even though she didn’t believe, she prayed.





12


SHERIFF RONALD WHITESIDE followed Deputy Collins out through the side door onto the disabled access ramp. The sun hung low in the sky, promising heat to come, glinting off the metalwork of their parked cruisers. Collins took a pack of cigarettes from her shirt pocket, and a lighter. She lit one, took a long drag, tucked the pack away as she exhaled blue smoke that hung still in the air, no breeze to move it along.

‘You want me to stick around?’ she asked.

‘No,’ he said. ‘Go and check on the other two. Make sure they’re okay. I’ll say you’re out on patrol.’

She took another pull. ‘That boy might be trouble.’

‘Not if you handle him right. Give me one of those.’

Collins stared at his outstretched hand. ‘You don’t smoke.’

‘I’m considering starting.’ He clicked his fingers. ‘Come on, give me one.’

She retrieved the pack from her pocket, handed it and the lighter over. He took one, gripped it between his lips, and flicked the lighter’s wheel. The smoke filled his lungs, and he couldn’t help but cough it out again. He gave her back the pack as his eyes watered. It had been twenty years since he had last smoked a cigarette, and he savored the nicotine crackle in his brain. Another lungful, and this time he kept it in.

‘It’s not too late,’ Collins said.

Whiteside shook his head. ‘Don’t.’

‘We give her back the kids, make her promise not to say what we did, and we can just forget the whole—’

‘Goddamn it, shut up,’ he said, regretting his anger as he spoke. ‘We’re in it now, and we’re going to see it through. You had your chance to back out yesterday when I radioed. You remember what we agreed.’

The call for the tow truck, for Emmet. They’d talked about it for months. If and when he found the right kids in the right situation, he’d radio her to ask for Emmet’s tow truck. All she had to do was say Emmet couldn’t be raised, if she wanted to back out.

‘I know, but …’

‘But what?’

She shook her head. ‘I just never thought we’d actually do it. It was one thing talking about it. Even yesterday, when you radioed. It didn’t feel like a real thing. But last night, when I went up there to bring them food, I thought, Christ, this is for real. And I don’t know if I’m strong enough for it.’

‘It’s done,’ Whiteside said. ‘We quit now, we might as well hand ourselves over to the feds.’