He threw his backpack onto the floor, causing a crash that threatened to break through the floorboards. He collapsed on the stone-hard bed, suddenly exhausted. He didn’t know when, it had happened, exactly. He’d been praying all his life, ever since he first learned how back in that one-room white-boarded Baptist church in Stroud. And God had always answered in prayers. Not in words, like some weird Oral Roberts-like message from beyond. But Kirk had always had the sense that someone was listening, that even if he didn’t always get everything he wanted, his voice was still being heard.
But not any longer. God had closed the door on him. He was certain of it.
And who could blame Him? He had done a horrible, nasty thing. But surely God could see what he was up against, how he was being pulled one way and the other. Surely God could see some cause for forgiveness. Surely—
He closed his eyes. Sweat oozed from his pores. He could feel his pulse throbbing in his temples. He had sinned. Horribly so. Unforgivably so. God would never smile down on him again. He was an outcast. He was Cain in the land of Nod. Worse, really. Even Cain had never—
But couldn’t God see how he had been tempted? How could any human being resist? At first, he thought God had forgiven him. He allowed Kirk’s sister to be acquitted, right? Surely that was a sign of God’s grace. Except now it was starting up all over again. If what he’d heard on the radio was true, she might not be safe after all. And neither was he. God was sending His demons to torment him. He couldn’t sleep, he couldn’t eat.
And he couldn’t pray. He could try, but no one was listening. And what was the point of praying to a god who wouldn’t hear?
Kirk flung himself out of the bed, collapsing on the floor. He pounded his fist on the floorboards, sending a trembling throughout the small apartment. He had to get out of here, had to do something. He didn’t know what, but he had to try something to wrench himself free of this pervasive guilt. He couldn’t live with this, not much longer. He would rather die than live with this.
He pushed himself to his feet, scrounging for his coat. Surely there were answers somewhere, out on the street. Surely he could find some form of redemption. Some kind of relief, some peace of mind. He couldn’t go on living like this, he just couldn’t.
But if God wouldn’t forgive him, who would?
6
BEN HEARD HER FOOTSTEPS long before she arrived; there were no secrets on a metal cage floor. He almost smiled with recognition of the quick, light sensible heels, tapping like Morse Code as she scurried down the passage. He’d been hearing that for years now. He thought he should sit up, push himself off the cot, greet her appropriately. But somehow that seemed like more work than he could manage at the moment.
“Ben?” He heard Christina’s voice the instant the guard admitted her through the cell door. “Ben! What happened to you?”
He could tell she was beside him now. He tried to open his eyes—but only one of them worked.
A moment later, he felt her soft cool hand behind his neck. “Ben! Talk to me. Are you all right?”
His lips felt dry and cracked, probably because they were. His voice crackled when he tried to speak. “I’m fine.”
“The hell you are. You’ve got a shiner the size of Kilimanjaro. Who did this to you?”
“I don’t exactly know.”
“By God, this is police brutality. I’ll haul their butts up on charges. I can’t believe this crap still goes on in this day and age. In a big city.”
Ben shook his head, although the stiffness of his neck made it difficult. “It wasn’t the police. Not the eye, anyway.”
“Then who was it?”
“Another inmate. Temporarily lodged in my cell. I didn’t get his name.”
“What a coincidence. I bet they put him up to it.”
“Likely.” Braced by Christina’s hand, Ben managed to pull himself upright. He was immediately embarrassed, remembering that he was wearing the formless bright orange coveralls. “But you’ll never prove it.”
“What about the cops? Have they been after you?”
“Well …”
“Ben! You have to file a complaint.”
“C’mon, Christina. You’ve been around long enough to know how stupid that would be. Sad truth is, inmates get punched up in jail all the time. And if they make a fuss, they get an additional charge of assaulting an officer. ‘I hated to hurt him, your honor, but it was self-defense.’ ” He glanced over his shoulder. “By the way, the inmates on either side of us are probably informants, so be careful what you say. The attorney-client privilege won’t extend to them.”
“Ben, I want the name of everyone who hit you.”
He shook his head. “We’ve got more important things to investigate at the moment. By the way, how did you get in here? Shouldn’t we be meeting in a visitor room? “
“That would take too long. I wanted to see you immediately. And I know one of the guards on duty …”
“Of course you do. You know everyone. So—do you have any idea what the hell is going on?”
“I know a little. I called the D.A.”
That was his Christina. Straight to the top. “You mean the actual D.A.? Not an assistant?”
“Right. Woke LaBelle up in the middle of the night. Unfortunately, he didn’t know much more than I did.”
“What was the basis for the search warrant?”
“Anonymous tip.”
“How convenient. Tape recording?”
“No. It didn’t come over the phone. But Sergeant Matthews got it from a reliable source.”
“Of course.”
“Whom he refuses to name. Informant privilege.”
“Naturally. He planned it out perfectly.”
“Yeah. Except I still have two questions. How did the knife get in your file cabinet? And if it really is the murder weapon—where did it come from?” She touched her fingers lightly to the swollen blue-black bulge beneath Ben’s left eye. “Is it tender?”
“Ouch!” He pulled away from her. “What do you think?”
“Sorry. I could get an ice pack …”
“Don’t. I’d rather it was nice and dramatic when we appear before Judge Collier for the arraignment.”
“But the police will deny—”
“Collier isn’t an idiot.”
“Are you going to be okay?” Christina asked. “I mean—really. You seem … subdued.” She paused a moment. “Did they work you over?”
Ben nodded. “Like you wouldn’t believe. They didn’t miss a trick.”
“Oh, Ben. I’m so sorry.” She wrapped her arms around him. “It must’ve been awful.”
“Not a Hallmark moment, for sure.” She felt good against him. Soft but firm. Warm. “But I’m okay. Or would be if I got some sleep.”
“You poor thing.”
“Yeah, yeah. So did you find Mike? I’m sure he can sort this out.”
“Mike is gone.”
“Where the hell is he?”
“I don’t know.”
“We have to find out.”
“That’s a no go. Penelope says he’s undercover. No one will tell me any more.”
“Damn.” Ben clenched his teeth. “He said he was leaving town for some new case. What lousy timing.”
“ I don’t think it’s a coincidence.”
He jerked his head up. “What do you mean?”
“The cops show up to railroad you the second your close friend on the force goes under? That can’t be just bad luck. They waited till he was gone.”
Ben didn’t like the idea at all, but he had to admit she was probably right. This was planned. And planned very well.
“So what’s their goal here? What’s the charge?”