Redemption Road(138)

“Don’t.”

He swung his aim to the girl. “You see how this works.” The gun moved back and forth. The boy. The girl. “I want you to call him. Tell him to come here. Tell him he has an hour before I start killing children.”

“He’s farther away than that.”

“I’m an impatient man, but not beyond reason. We’ll call it ninety minutes.”

Elizabeth held the stare. The warden smiled.

At their feet, Beckett lay dying.





36

Adrian was at the window when the phone rang. Only Liz knew he was here, so he answered, “Liz?”

“Adrian, thank God.” She was curt, her voice strained. “Listen to me, and listen carefully. I don’t have much time. You remember my father’s church? The old one?”

Of course, he remembered. He’d joined the church a month after finding Elizabeth at the quarry. He’d hoped to marry Julia there and start a new life. It had, for a time, embodied dreams of better days.

“What’s going on, Liz?”

“I need you at the church, and I need you soon.”

“Why?”

“Just come, please. It’s important.”

“Are you in some kind of trouble?”

“Do you remember the last thing I said to you? Our last phone call?”

“Yes. Of course.”

“I mean it now more than ever.”

Adrian wanted to know more. He had questions.

The phone went dead.

*

The warden took the phone from Elizabeth’s fingers and slipped it into his pocket. The conversation had been on speakerphone. His insistence. “Were you being clever, just now?”

“No.”

He leaned close enough to smell his skin, the gel in his hair. He was closely shaven, his eyes too soft and brown for the man he was. Elizabeth averted her gaze, but he touched her hair with a finger, tapped the gun against her knee.

“What was the last thing you said to him?”

“You wanted him here. I said what I had to say to make sure he’d come.”

“I find that answer unsatisfactory.”

She glanced at the children, then at Beckett. His eyes were open; he was watching. “The last thing I said was that I loved him. He’ll come because of that.”

The warden measured her words, her face. “Are you lying to me?”

“All I want is for the children to live.”

“Eighty-nine minutes.”

*

Stay away from this place. Stay away from me.

Those were the last words she’d said to him. Did she really want him to stay away? He doubted it. Else why call him at all? Something had changed, and it wasn’t something good.

Cops, maybe?

That was equally doubtful.

The warden?

That was the best bet, but it didn’t really matter. Liz would not have called unless she needed him. The beautiful part was that he had clarity at last, knew what to do and when to do it. He heard Eli as if he were in the room.

It’s only worth so much, boy .

Six million dollars, he thought.

Liz was worth more.

*

In the church, it was hot and still. Beckett was alive, but as close to dead as Elizabeth had ever seen a man. She asked the same question for the seventh time. “Please, may I help him?”

Gideon and Channing sat on either side of her, the three of them herded onto the step at the bottom of the altar and held at gunpoint. Olivet was at the door. The warden stood gazing at stained glass.

“He’s dying,” she said.

“Two minutes left.” The warden tapped his watch. “I hope he makes it in time.”

“I’ve done what you asked. No one else needs to die.”

She said it as if she meant it, but deep down she knew the truth. If the warden had his way, no one would get out alive. Witnesses. Risks. He would accept neither, not with one man dead and another dying, not once he had Adrian.

“Talk to me,” she said. “Let’s work this out.”

“Stop talking.”

“I’m serious. There must be something—”

“Bring her here.” The warden gestured, and one of the guards hauled Elizabeth to her feet. “Put her down there. Cuff her to the pew.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“So I have a clear shot at the children.”

She jerked an arm free, but the guard pushed her down, pulled her hands behind her back, and cuffed her to the leg of the pew. “You wouldn’t.”

“Actually, I’d rather not.” The warden stooped beside her. “Can’t you feel it, though?” He traced the line of her cheek. “The suspense.” He was speaking of Adrian, and confidence underlay it all. “Sixty seconds.”

“Don’t pretend you’ll let us live.”

“Not even for the children?”

The smile seemed shockingly real, but the eyes said it all. He’d shot one man in the heart, and put a bullet in a cop’s stomach. It could only end one way. He knew it, and she did, too.

“Movement.” That was Olivet at the open door. Beyond him, it was dusk. Purple sky. Cicadas in the grass. “Car’s turning in. Some kind of green wagon.”