Redemption Road(80)
“No. Stay out of the city. Stay away from people. I’ll call the car service.” He guided her off the porch, and she stopped on the second step. “Be quick, Elizabeth. They may have tracked your phone, already.”
He was eager, but she needed this single moment, just to be sure. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because you have pretty eyes and a lovely smile.”
“Don’t joke, Faircloth.”
“Very well. I’m helping you because Adrian spoke of you often, and because I’ve followed your career since his trial, because you are thoughtful and kind and unlike other detectives, because I find you to be a most admirable woman.” A twinkle glinted in the old man’s eyes. “Have I not told you that?”
“And if you’re charged for practicing without a license?”
“Until you showed up the other day, I’d not been out of my house for over a decade. Now, I’ve been to court, breathed fresh air, and helped a friend that needed help. I’m eighty-nine years old, with a heart so weak I’m unlikely to live another three. So, look at me.” He lifted his arms so she could take in the old jeans and flyaway hair, the coat he could have used for a pillow. “Now, ask again if I give a good goddamn about being charged with anything.”
18
Beckett watched the circus unfold. Alsace Shore. The lawyers. They were in the lobby beyond the glass, arguing, posturing. The Charlotte attorneys made the most noise, but that made perfect sense: $1,500 an hour between the three of them, the client right there and just as red-faced. Only Crybaby Jones seemed at ease. He stood a few feet to the side, both hands on his cane, his head tilted attentively as detectives tried to explain that none of them, in fact, represented Channing Shore.
“She doesn’t want a lawyer. She’s waived the right—”
“She’s too young for that. I’m her father. These are her lawyers. Right here! Right now! I demand to see her!”
“Sir, I need you to calm down, and I’ll explain again. Your daughter’s eighteen. She doesn’t want a lawyer.”
But Alsace Shore was not the calming kind. He had his own suspicions, Beckett thought. And, why not? He knew what Channing could do with a gun. That meant he knew the danger she was in now, that one wrong word could change her life forever. Beckett felt sick from the thought, but mostly that was about Liz. He’d made a promise and wasn’t sure he could keep it.
“How long has this been going on?” Beckett leaned into the sergeant, who shrugged.
“An hour.”
“Has Dyer been out?”
“Shit rolls downhill. You know that.”
“Call me if it gets worse.”
Beckett left the front desk and worked his way toward the interview rooms. Hamilton and Marsh had the girl in isolation with the local cops frozen out. Uniformed troopers barred the door. Even Dyer was banned, and that made the tension unmistakable, as if the AG thought the locals were covering for one of their own and only the state cops knew right from wrong, as if God himself wanted Liz to fry.
It tied Beckett into knots.
Liz was clean.
How could they not see that?
But they didn’t. Occam’s razor. The obvious explanation. Whatever. The truth was a coal he wanted to puke from his chest.
The kid is the goddamn shooter!
Twenty feet from the troopers, Beckett stopped and checked his watch. They’d had the girl inside for ninety-three minutes. The all-points on Liz was two hours’ old, and every detail was on the wire. Name. Description. Vehicles. Elizabeth was officially wanted for double homicide. Every cop in the state was looking for her, and that was not the worst part.
Suspect considered armed and dangerous.
Approach with caution.
“Where’s Dyer?” Beckett caught a uniformed officer by the sleeve as she passed. She pointed, and Beckett bulled through the hall, people scrambling to get out of his way. He found Dyer near the conference room. “Where’ve you been?”
“Making phone calls.”
“Have you seen this?” Beckett pushed a copy of the all-points at Dyer.
“It’s why I’m making calls.”
“Those state cops are going to get her killed.”
“What do you want me to do, Charlie? They have an indictment for double murder. She’s on the run and armed, and the state cops know it.”
“She didn’t kill anyone.”
Dyer’s eyebrow went up. “Are you sure?”
“Just find her.”
“I have people on the street.”
“Send more. We need to be the ones to find her. Us. Her people.”
“She could be out of the county by now, out of the state.”
“Not Liz.” Beckett was certain. “Not with Channing Shore in custody.”
Dyer crossed his arms. “Is there something I should know?”
Beckett looked away and choked on the same hot coal. “All I can say is, she’s got a crazy-strong connection to this kid.”
“Like the Gideon thing?”
“Stronger, maybe.”
“That’s not possible.”
A day ago Beckett would have said the same thing. Now he wasn’t so sure. “There’s a connection there, Francis. It’s deep and instinctual. Primal, even. She won’t leave the girl.”