'I know I shouldn't have left those women there, but I was terrified. Jake has some powerful friends. I ran away because I was frightened. I take full responsibility for that.'
'I'm happy to hear you take responsibility for something.'
He tried to defend himself, saying, 'I called the sheriff's office and gave an anonymous tip.'
Nick had obviously heard this before. 'We listened to the nine-one-one tapes from Friday, Fred. We haven't found anything.'
'Then you need to keep looking,' Bart insisted. 'I called from a pay phone at the Stop 'n' Save. It should have my fingerprints on it.'
Jeffrey didn't doubt the phone had Bart's prints on it. He'd had plenty of time to think up an alibi while Lena and Sara were fighting for their lives.
'What about the other body?' Jeffrey asked.
'Other body?' Bart echoed. 'What other body?'
He seemed as surprised as Sara and Lena had been. Both women swore they hadn't seen anyone else in Hank's house, but the remains of a man's body had been found somewhere in the vicinity of the back bedroom.
Jeffrey told him, 'There was another set of bones in Hank Norton's house. The state coroner says he was an older man, maybe in his sixties.'
Bart looked at his hands. 'I don't know anything about that.'
'You don't know anything about a lot of things,' Jeffrey challenged. 'I think you're just sitting there with your little mind spinning, trying to come up with quick answers for every question, but the thing is you've got no idea how deep this hole is you're standing in.'
'I don't know what you mean.'
Jeffrey looked at Nick. Both men knew that Bart was either too arrogant or too stupid to see that his life was pretty much over the minute he shot Clint Jones and told Jake Valentine to get under the sink.
'All righty.' Nick sighed, pressing his palms against the table as he stood up.
Bart yelped, 'What are you doing?'
'Packing up,' Nick told him, collapsing the tripod. 'You don't know doodly squat, Tonto, and I have a feeling any second now the Lone Ranger there's gonna be heading back up to the corral to get along with his little doggies.'
The lawyer chuckled. 'Well put.'
Nick told him, 'No offense, buddy, but we're really hoping none of this goes any farther than it has to.'
'I think we've had enough collateral damage to last us for a while.' The lawyer pushed Valentine's photos of Fred Bart across the table. 'It seems to me you have an overwhelming amount of evidence here. Surely enough to charge the guilty party.' He stood, telling Jeffrey. 'I'm very sorry that your wife was in harm's way.' As an afterthought, he added, 'And your detective, too, of course.'
Jeffrey took the man's meaning, but he wanted to be clear. 'Just so long as they're safe now.'
'They are.'
The lawyer turned to leave, but Bart clawed his arm, screaming, 'You said they'd work a deal! You said they would-'
'Get your hands off me,' he barked, jerking his arm away.
Bart finally seemed to understand that the lawyer wasn't on his side, that the only reason the man was here was so he could make sure Bart wasn't a threat to the people who were really paying his fees.
For his part, the lawyer seemed relieved that the masquerade was over. He gave Nick a nod, then Jeffrey. 'Gentlemen, if you'll excuse me.'
'What are you doing?' Bart demanded. 'You're my lawyer! Where are you going?'
The man left the room without looking back.
Bart stood by the table, wringing his hands like a woman.
Nick told him, 'Sit down, Fred.'
Bart sagged into his chair. 'I want to cut a deal,' he muttered. 'I need to cut a deal.'
'Welcome to the State of Getting Your Head Out of Your Ass.' Nick clapped his hands in mock congratulations. 'What kind of deal you think you can make, Freddy boy?'
'Any kind,' Bart pleaded. 'Just tell me what you want me to say.'
Nick shook his head. 'We want you to say some names, Fred. Only problem is, you don't know 'em.'
'I know them!' Bart screeched. 'I know all of them!'
'Like?'
'Like…' His mouth worked as he tried to come up with something. 'Just tell me. Tell me who you want and I'll say it!'
'Rhymes with Spitzpatrick.'
He paled. 'No,' he said. 'I can't do that.'
Nick shrugged. 'Lookit, hoss, we're giving you enough rope here to hang a snake. Not my fault you can't tie the knot.'
'They'll kill me,' Bart said. 'They'll… worse than that. They don't just kill people… they…' His words stopped as he gulped for air. 'Please…' he cried.
Jeffrey stood up and Nick opened the door.
'No!' Bart begged. 'You can't just leave me here.'
Nick couldn't help himself. 'Don't worry, hoss. We'll go by the Stop 'n' Save and call nine-one-one on our way out of town.'
Jeffrey had a bad taste in his mouth as he drove past the Elawah County High School. He should feel good about leaving Fred Bart to the wolves, but instead he felt dirty. Fred Bart had left Sara to burn, and Jeffrey was a firm believer in an eye for an eye. He was also a cop, and he knew the state had a process for taking care of its most deserving criminals. What was the difference between waiting ten years for appeals to fall through and letting the Brotherhood take care of him?
The difference was that the Brotherhood got stronger with every life they took. They wouldn't roll Bart into a sterile room and slip a needle in his arm. They would make him beg for his life. They would beat him, torture him – make it so that death was the only thing he had to look forward to. Fred Bart would be a lesson for every other thug and moron out there: you did not cross the Brotherhood without paying the ultimate price.
Still, Ethan Green's words kept coming back into his head, and Jeffrey couldn't help but wonder if the young man had seen the real Jeffrey, the one who hid behind his badge while he looked the other way. Jeffrey had taken an oath to protect and defend everybody, not just the people he thought deserved it. He was supposed to work within the system, not make up the rules as he went along.
He was supposed to take care of the weak and protect them from the strong. Fred Bart sure hadn't looked strong when Jeffrey and Nick had left him crying in the interrogation room. He had fallen to the floor on his knees, begging for help.
Jeffrey realized he'd passed the motel and made a U-turn. He pulled up in front of the office as the maid was coming out of one of the rooms. She stood there, watching him get out of the car.
Jeffrey told her, 'I need to get the things out of room fourteen.'
'They're packed up,' the woman said, walking away.
Jeffrey guessed he was expected to follow her. He caught the office door before she let it slam in his face.
'Thanks,' he said.
She went behind the front counter, scratching her arms through her long-sleeved shirt. She told him, 'There's a balance on the room.'
Jeffrey glanced at the keys hanging on the board behind her and figured maybe three rooms were checked out. 'Been busy lately?'
'Listen, asshole. I don't make the rules.'
He laughed, taking out his wallet. 'How much is it?'
She scratched her neck, calculating how much she could get off him. 'A hundred bucks.'
'How about twenty?'
'How about fifty?'
Jeffrey paid her the money, though he seriously doubted the cash would ever make its way into the register. Judging by the woman's appearance, he guessed he was looking at one of those rare things: a meth addict who had made it past her thirties.
The woman asked, 'How's the girl doing?'