“Excuse me?”
“Even if this narrows future opportunities, your reputation will work in your favor. That means you’ll probably retain your post, at least for the time being. Instead of canning you, they’ll yank Virgil.”
She experienced a flash of relief. This was what she’d been hoping to achieve when she called him. Virgil wouldn’t be incarcerated, and she wouldn’t be tempted anymore. “Then they’ll yank Virgil.”
“I won’t let it go that way. We have it all set up. Everything’s ready.”
He was already writing his acceptance speech for his next promotion. “Maybe putting a stop to the investigation as it stands would be the right thing. I’m not sure Virgil will be safe at Pelican Bay.”
His voice rose. “You did this to get what you wanted from the start!”
“That’s not true!”
“Isn’t it? You never liked the idea.”
“That doesn’t mean I’d sabotage it!”
“Then listen. You’ve reported your behavior. I’ve reprimanded you, you’ve promised you’ll never make that mistake again and now it’s over. Forget it.”
She nearly dropped the phone. “Forget it? That’s it?”
“Yeah. Consider your conscience clear. Who cares whether or not you were together? It doesn’t affect anything. You think I’m going to toss this whole investigation because you wanted to get laid by a piece of prison trash?”
Peyton ground her teeth. “He’s not prison trash, Rick. He didn’t kill his stepfather. He’s no different than you or me.”
“Yes, he is, Peyton. He’s killed. That makes him a whole lot different. If you don’t think he’s dangerous you’re wrong.”
“You don’t know him.”
“Neither do you! One cheap lay and you’re an expert on this guy? Are you really that infatuated with him?”
She remembered how Virgil had treated her at the motel. “No,” she said, but then she tried to be more honest, since that had been her intent in the first place. “I don’t think so. It’s all a bit confusing. I…I don’t want anyone to be hurt.”
“It’s the Hells Fury who’ll be hurt. Irreparably, I hope.”
He could imagine the headlines. But she feared those headlines would say something different than he hoped. “You don’t know that the damage will stop there.”
“I’ve got too much riding on this investigation to flush it down the toilet over a little bump and grind. So you gave him a ride. What does it really matter? You’re two consenting adults, right? Hell, I was thinking I should hire the poor guy a hooker considering how long he’s been behind bars. Now I won’t have to.”
Peyton straightened her spine. “Thanks for treating me with respect despite my mistake,” she said in a withering voice. “It means a lot to me.”
“Hey, you can thank me when I come back to town.”
“What do you mean?”
“As long as you’re giving it away for free, I’m next in line,” he said, and hung up.
Surely he was joking. Wallace was married; she wouldn’t let him near her. She hoped he understood that, but it didn’t matter whether he did or not. He’d learn. She just needed to keep her distance from Virgil, and she’d soon be in control of her life again.
Dropping her phone on the couch to free her hands, she removed his medallion and went to hide it in a drawer.
16
Eddie Glover felt like the walking dead. Because his wife had recently taken a job working afternoons and evenings at a craft store, he’d switched to nights at ADX Florence. Someone had to be available for the kids after school. But a week into the change, his body hadn’t made the adjustment yet. Eight hours on his feet during the time he normally slept left him dragging, feeling punchy, dim-witted, slow to react.
Apparently he was slow to react, and none too observant. He didn’t notice the car that turned down his street until it drove up onto his lawn and three white men, all of them wearing beanies and overlarge sweatshirts, jumped out. Once he understood what was happening, he stood slack-jawed as the tallest of the three waved a pistol in his face.
“Glover?”
Eddie didn’t bother denying his identity. Although he was wearing a heavy coat, his uniform bore a tag and would be easy enough to check. “What’s going on?”
With the help of the others, the man who’d verified his name started dragging him to the front porch. But Eddie couldn’t let these men in the house. His wife and two little girls were there.
Adrenaline blasted away the cobwebs in his mind, but there wasn’t much he could do to gain the upper hand, not when he was surrounded by three thugs toting guns. His cell phone was in his shirt pocket, but he knew they’d shoot him the minute he tried to get it out. He had only the lock on the front door and his ability to reason with them.
As soon as they realized the house was locked up, the tall man with a thin line of hair along his jaw—and a pointy chin reminiscent of pictures representing the devil—nudged him. “Get your keys.”
They were in his pants pocket, but he made no move to retrieve them. “No.”
“You’re joking, right?” Devil said.
“Not at all. I won’t let you in my house.”
They stiffened as if he’d surprised them. But he couldn’t imagine why. If these men thought he’d give them access to his house under any conditions, they had no idea how much he loved his family.
“What did you say?” Devil demanded.
He eyed the storm drain, judging the distance. If they tried to get his keys, he’d throw them in there, he decided. “I can’t let you in the house. You can do what you want with me, but that won’t change.”
“Are you stupid?” This came from a much shorter man with tattoos covering every inch of visible skin, including his face. His wild eyes made Eddie nervous. He’d seen that look before, plenty of times. It usually indicated drug use and often preceded violence.
Struggling to remain calm, he drew measured breaths. Panic would get him nowhere. But it would be easier to figure out how to defuse this situation if only he understood why it was happening. He’d worked at the prison for ten years and never had an incident. “Not stupid enough to let you in my house.”
“Then we’ll shoot you here.” Wild Eyes shoved the muzzle of his gun between Eddie’s ribs. Eddie wished his neighbors were early risers, but it wasn’t even light yet. The ones who were up were probably getting into a hot shower, not peering out their windows to see if he’d made it home safe. Even his house was dark.
“If you’d just tell me what you want, maybe I could help you instead,” he said, hoping to calm them. “I’ve got my wallet. It’s right here. We could go down to the ATM.” He’d seen enough gang members to know these guys were affiliated. Their tattoos told him that much. The third man—dark hair and eyes, average height, average build—had a clover tattoo with AB on the back of his hand. Eddie recognized it as an Aryan Brotherhood tattoo and guessed they were after money. That had to be it. There wasn’t any other reason for the AB to come after him. He had good relationships with the convicts at Florence. That didn’t mean he condoned their actions; it just meant that, in his opinion, anyone who expected to be treated like a decent human being should treat others the same way.
Devil nudged his compatriot aside. “If he doesn’t want to go in the house, we’ll put him in the car.”
The car wasn’t any less dangerous for Eddie, but he was willing to go with them to draw any threat away from the house.
Devil jumped behind the wheel and fired up the engine. The more aggressive Wild Eyes shoved Eddie in the passenger seat before getting in behind him, and Clover Tattoo, who hadn’t said a word and didn’t seem all that thrilled to be there, took the other seat.