Redemption Road(38)

Where was Dyer’s car?

He was the captain of detectives; this was a huge case. Dialing Beckett’s cell, she waited three rings for him to answer.

“Liz. Hi.” His voice fell, and she imagined him stepping away from the body. “I’m so glad you called. About earlier—”

“Where’s Francis?”

“What?”

“I don’t see Dyer’s car. He should be there.”

Beckett paused, his breath heavy on the line. “Where are you, Liz? Are you here at the scene? I warned you—”

But Elizabeth wasn’t listening. Dyer wasn’t at the church. She should have seen it coming. “Son of a bitch.”

“Liz, wait—”

But that wasn’t going to happen. Turning across the road, Elizabeth put the church in her blind spot and broke every speed limit heading back to town. From a hilltop two miles out, she saw steeples and rooftops and houses that showed white through the trees. Off the hill and in heavy traffic, she went right, then crossed a cobbled street and blew through the other side of town, thinking, He wouldn’t; not yet. But on the last stretch before Adrian’s burned-out farm, she saw flashing lights a mile away. The body was still in the church, and Dyer had already come to arrest his old partner. Resentment. Laziness. Hatred. Whatever the reasons, she saw it like ink on a page. They were going to lock him in a cell and find some reason to keep him there.

“It’s not what you think.”

Dyer met her when she spilled from the car. He had both hands up, backpedaling as she pushed hard between the cars, the burned-out house ten yards ahead.

“The body’s barely cold. You can’t possibly have a reason to arrest him.”

“Slow down, Liz. I mean it.”

She shouldered past uniformed officers, rounded into the same charred room, and saw Adrian, facedown in the soot. Whatever the takedown looked like, it had been violent. His shirt was torn. Smears of blood slicked his hands and face. They’d zipped his ankles and wrists, dropped him in the dirt like an animal.

Three steps in, and Dyer was already pulling her back, his hands like steel on her arm. “I want to talk to him.”

“Not a chance.”

“Francis—”

“I said that’s enough!”

He dragged her outside, cops watching, spots of red in Dyer’s cheeks. He pushed her against an oak tree, and she jerked her arm free. “This is bullshit.”

“Calm down, Detective.” Dyer used the force of his voice, the authority in his eyes. “It’s not what you think, and you’re not going to talk to him. That means I need you to step away from this arrest.” She moved right, and he moved with her. “I mean it, Liz. I’ll take you in for obstruction. I swear it.”

She pushed forward.

He placed a palm squarely on her chest. The touch was entirely inappropriate, but she saw no discomfort on his face. “I’ll cuff you,” he said. “Right in front of God and everybody. Do you want that?”

Elizabeth looked at him with new eyes. Such forcefulness was not his normal style. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

She stepped back and lifted her hands. Through the crowd, she saw Adrian in the dirt. His eyes found hers, and she felt a jolt of electricity. “Why is he in full restraints?”

“Because he’s a dangerous man.”

“Who’s under arrest for what?”

“If I tell you, will you behave?”

Resentment gathered in Elizabeth’s chest. It was an indulgent word: behave. “When have I not?”

“Just stay here. We’ll talk when this is over.”

“One question.”

He turned and held up a single finger.

“What charges?”

Dyer pointed at a red-and-white sign nailed to a blackened timber. In her lifetime, Elizabeth had seen a thousand of them just like it. It was a metal square: two words, simple.

“You’re kidding me,” she said.

“He doesn’t own the property anymore.”

Dyer walked back into the house and left Elizabeth on the periphery to watch them haul Adrian to his feet, drag him from the ruins, and stuff him in a car. She watched him go and couldn’t hide the emotion she felt. Whatever Adrian was now, he’d been a cop once, and one of the finest, not just capable but decorated, lauded. He’d suffered thirteen years behind bars for a crime she didn’t think he committed, and now, here he was, assaulted on ground he used to own.

Cuffed and stuffed.

Arrested for trespass.

*

Elizabeth left before Dyer could find her for a further discussion. She waited on the road, then followed a line of patrol cars to the station and watched from a distance as Adrian was manhandled from the cruiser and goose-stepped toward the secure entrance. He fought the rough treatment. The treatment got rougher. By the time he disappeared inside, he was fully off the ground: two cops holding his feet, two more at his shoulders as he struggled. Elizabeth sat in silence and stared at the door. She waited for Dyer to make an appearance, but he did not.

At the church, she decided. Because that’s how it was supposed to work. Investigate first. Then arrest.

She put the car in gear and eased away from the curb, but not before she saw the dark blue sedan parked at the edge of the secure lot. It had blackwall tires and state tags. Hamilton and Marsh, she decided.