?Sometimes,? Trevis said, ?when we have to keep a professional distance, we seem?gruff, I guess.?
She just looked at him.
?Some of us were wrong,? Trevis said. ?Becky, we want Morgan to get an appeal.? He looked at her evenly. ?To be truthful, I don?t know what made us so surly. We were all caught up in something, some violent feeling that I can?t explain, that was not professional.? Trevis?s face colored. ?Like a bunch of little boys torturing a hurt animal. You?re right, we weren?t fair to Morgan.
?Not until after the trial was over,? he said, ?after Morgan was down in Atlanta, did we seem to come to our senses, realize how ugly we?d been, how grossly we let him down. Becky, I don?t believe the story about you and Falon. I went to school with Falon, I know what he?s like.? He was quiet, then, ?I do have some good news.? Trevis grinned, his tall frame easing back in his chair. ?There?s a warrant out for Falon.?
?What, for the breakin? Not for the bank robbery??
?No. He?s wanted in California. The warrant came in this morning. That?s why I got over here so fast. Seems he was involved in a series of real estate scams out there, and fraud by wire. The bureau traced him from California to Chattanooga, to some large bank accounts there under fictitious names, and then traced him here.?
?Then when you find him, he?ll be in jail? He?ll be locked up where he can?t reach us??
?If you didn?t kill him, on the bridge,? Trevis said with the hint of a smile. ?If we can find him, he?ll be transported by the U.S. marshal?s office to California, he?ll be held in jail there to await arraignment and trial.?
She wanted to hug Trevis. She couldn?t stop smiling.
?The U.S. attorney in L.A. seems hot to move on him,? Trevis said. ?There were five men involved. The other four have been indicted. With any luck, Falon should be in federal court in L.A. fairly soon.?
?And if he?s convicted?? Becky said. ?Oh, he won?t be sent back here, to prison in Atlanta??He won?t be imprisoned with Morgan, she thought,where Falon would hurt or kill him.
?If he?s convicted in California, there?s no reason to return him to Georgia. Terminal Island, maybe, that?s the closest to L.A. where he?d be tried.?
?How long would he be there? How long would he get??
?On those charges, the maximum might be thirty years, the minimum maybe twenty. With parole and good time, maybe half that.?
?Ten years at least,? she said softly. ?Ten years, free of Falon.?
?If he comes out on parole,? Trevis said, ?and is caught doing anything out of line, he?ll be revoked and sent back.? He swallowed the last of his coffee. ?If you file a complaint now and amend the complaint you filed with Atlanta, give them his name, then the probation department will have that information. That means, if he comes out on parole they?ll do their best to keep him away from you. Have you heard anything on the appeal? Quaker Lowe has been up from Atlanta several times, reading the reports, talking with the witnesses.?
?He?s working hard on it, Trevis.?
Trevis rose.?He?s a good man, good reputation.? He came around the table and hugged Becky. That startled her. His closeness was caring and honest, this was the Trevis she knew. In that moment, she felt as soothed as Sammie must have felt when Grandma wrapped the plaid blanket around her.
23
IN THE NIGHT-DIM cellblock, rain beat down on the high clerestory windows, sloughing across their steel mesh. Lightning flashed, bleaching the cells below as pale as bone. Lee paced his own small cubicle fighting the ache in his side. It had eased off some, until a bout of coughing brought the pain stabbing sharp again. Pain and the cold had kept him up most of the night. He thought Georgia was supposed to be hot and humid. He?d asked the guard twice for another blanket. At last, on his third round, the man had brought it, grumbling as he shoved it through the bars.
Back in his bunk, rolled up in the extra warmth, Lee tried to sleep, the thick scratchy wool pulled tight around him. He badly wanted a hot cup of coffee. He tossed restlessly until daylight crept gray and tentative across the high glass, until he heard the guard?s footsteps again, then the harsh clang of the lever as the overhead bars were withdrawn and the cells unlocked. Lee stood for the count, washed and dressed, pulled on his coat, and moved out to the catwalk. Men crowded him, hurrying him along, surging down the metal stairs and outside into the rain, double-timing to the mess hall hungering for coffee.
In the mess hall he poured two cups from the coffeepot and headed for a small, empty table. He sat with his back to the wall shivering. Rain poured against the glass, its cold breath biting to the bone. Not until the hot brew had warmed him did he get in line, pick up a tray of scrambled eggs, potatoes, toast, and two more coffees, and return to the table. By the time he finished eating, the worst of the storm had passed. He was on second shift for the kitchen, hours away yet; leaving the mess hall, he headed back for his cell. There were advantages to his illness, that he could rest when he pleased. The rain had stopped but wind whipped water from the eaves down across the walk, wetting Lee?s pant legs. A lone slit of sun slanted down between the heavy clouds, reflecting up from the puddles. Ahead on the walk a flock of cowbirds was splashing, drinking, screeching to wake the dead. They went quiet at his approach, then exploded into the sky and were gone; and a figure was walking beside him. Appearing out of nowhere, a tall man in prison blues, an inmate he had never seen. When Lee looked square at him his bony face seemed to shift and change, Lee couldn?t look for long into those hollow eyes.
Where the man stepped through deep puddles the water didn?t move, no ripple stirred. A flock of sparrows soared in on a gust of wind, paused in the sky hovering, then fell dead on the rain-slick walk. When Lee didn?t alter his stride or look at the wraith again the dark presence grabbed his hand, its fingers cold as death, making Lee jerk away. ?Leaveme alone. Back off and leave me alone.?
?I can offer you one more opportunity, Fontana. One you?d be a fool to refuse.?
?I haven?t done what you wanted yet. And I?m not doing it now.? He headed for the cellblock, shivering. The dark one kept pace with him.
?If the authorities find the post office money, Lee, find any track leading to where it?s buried?perhaps with a little help?they?ll have all the evidence they need. They?ll lift fingerprints you only thought you destroyed. You?ll be in prison until you die. Unless,? he said, ?you are willing to strike this one bargain.? The wraith looked at him so intently that Lee had to look back. One instant and he turned away again, colder than before.
?One small favor, Fontana, and it is not a difficult task. You will gain much, when your dream of Mexico is fulfilled.?
Lee kept walking.
?You are seventy-two years old. You are sick. If I choose, I can cure the emphysema. I can make your lungs whole again, make you strong again. You will breathe as easily as a young man. I can give you new life, Lee, many more years of healthy, vigorous life, a whole new beginning.?
?I?d pay hard for anythingyou offered.?
?You would pay nothing, you would acquire the ultimate prize. Not only renewed health in this life, but a new life when this one ends, a new and unblemished future designed to your own choosing. A new life where you?ll be anything you want to be. Meantime, you finish out this life in perfect health and comfort. All you need to do is help Morgan Blake.?
The tall figure warped and shifted so darkness drifted through him, then he was whole again.?If you agree to help Blake, I will see that you escape from here undetected, free and unharmed.?
Lee was silent as they passed other prisoners, though none took any notice, he didn?t think they saw or heard his companion.