“We can’t seem to locate him and he isn’t answering his cell. I was hoping he might be able to, uh, control his client.”
“Well, at the moment, he isn’t here. And you have to understand something, Christian. This kid didn’t commit that murder but that doesn’t mean he’s this innocent young child, if you know what I mean. He’s a gangbanger. He’s a Crip and right now he’s turning the greenroom blue. He’s got his blue jeans, his blue plaid shirt, and at the moment he’s wearing a blue do-rag.”
There was no hesitation on the phone this time.
“Okay, I’ll take care of this,” the producer said. “If things fall out, are you willing to go on alone? The segment is eight minutes with a video report on the case in the middle. After you subtract the video and your intro, it’s about four and a half to five minutes of airtime with our show host here in Atlanta. I don’t think you’ll be asked anything you haven’t already been asked about the case.”
“Whatever you need. I’m good to go.”
“Okay, I’ll get back to you.”
DuChateau clicked off and I went back to the greenroom. I sat on a sofa against the wall opposite Alonzo and his mother/grandmother. I engaged him in no conversation but eventually he tried to engage me.
“You say you started this whole thing up?”
I nodded.
“Yes, after your-after Wanda called me and told me you didn’t do it.”
“How come? No white man ever give a motherfucking shit about me ’fore this.”
I shrugged.
“It was just part of my job. Wanda said the police had it wrong and so I looked into it. I found the other case like yours and put it all together.”
Alonzo nodded thoughtfully.
“You gonna make a million dollah?”
“What?”
“They pay you to be here? They ain’t pay me. I ask for a few dollars for my time but they don’t gimme a motherfuckin’ cent, no.”
“Yeah, well, it’s the news. They don’t usually pay.”
“They makin’ money off him,” Wanda chimed in. “Why not pay the boy?”
I shrugged again.
“Well, you could ask them again, I guess,” I offered.
“A’ight, I think I’m gonna ask ’em when we doin’ the interview on live TV. What the muthafucka gonna say then, huh?”
I just nodded. I don’t think Alonzo realized his mike was on and somebody down the hall or in Atlanta was probably listening to what he was saying. A minute after he voiced his plan the door opened and the technician came back into the greenroom and fetched me. As we walked out, Alonzo called after us.
“Hey, where you goin’, now? When I get on the TV?”
The tech didn’t answer. As we walked down the hall I looked at him. He looked worried.
“You the one who has to tell him he’s not going on?”
He nodded.
“And all I can say is that I’m glad they put him through the metal detector in the lobby-and, don’t worry, I did check to make sure.”
I smiled and said good luck.
ELEVEN: The Cold, Hard Earth
It was almost sunrise. Carver could see the jagged line of light just beginning to etch the silhouette of the mountain chain. It was beautiful. He sat on a large rock and watched the light show as Stone labored in front of him. His young acolyte was working hard with the shovel and was down to the cold, hard earth that lies beneath the soft top of loose soil and sand.
“Freddy,” Carver said calmly. “I want you to tell me again.”
“I’ve already told you!”
“Then tell me again. I need to know exactly what was said because I need to know exactly the extent of the damage.”
“There is no damage. Nothing!”
“Tell me again.”
“Jesus!”
He drove the point of the shovel angrily down into the hole, the impact on rock and sand producing a sharp sound that echoed across the empty landscape. Carver looked around again to make sure they were alone. In the distance to the west, the lights of Mesa and Scottsdale looked like a brush fire spreading out of control. He reached behind his back and gripped the gun. He thought about it, then decided to wait. Freddy could still be useful. Carver would just teach him a lesson this time instead.
“Tell me again,” Carver repeated.
“I just told him that he was lucky, all right?” Stone said. “That’s all. And I tried to find out who the bitch was that was waiting for him in his room. The one that fucked the whole thing up.”
“What else?”
“That was it. I told him that someday I would get his gun back to him, that I would personally deliver it.”
Carver nodded. So far Stone had said the same thing each time he had recounted the conversation with McEvoy.
“Okay, and what did he say to you?”
“I told you, he didn’t say much of anything. I think he was scared shitless.”
“I don’t believe you, Freddy.”
“Well, that’s the-oh, there is one thing he said.”
Carver tried to remain calm.
“What?”
“He knows about our thing.”
“What thing?”
“About the irons. That thing.”
Carver tried to keep the urgency out of his voice.
“How does he know? You told him?”
“No, I didn’t tell him shit. He knew. He just knew somehow.”
“What did he know?”
“He said the name he was going to give us was the-”
“He said ‘us’? He knows there are two of us?”
“No, no, I don’t mean that. He never said that. He doesn’t know that. He said the name he was going to put in the paper for me, because he thought it was only me, was Iron Maiden. That was what they were going to call us-I mean, me. He was just trying to get me mad, I think.”
Carver thought for a moment. McEvoy knew more than he should know. He must have had help. It was more than access to information. He had insight and knowledge, and that made Carver think about the woman who had been in the room, waiting. The woman who saved McEvoy’s life. Carver now thought he might know who she was.
“Is this deep enough or not?” Stone said.
Carver put his thoughts aside and got up. He stepped over to the grave and pointed his flashlight down.
“Yes, Freddy, that will be fine. Put the dog in first.”
Carver turned his back while Stone reached over to pick up the little dog’s body.
“Gently, Freddy.”
He hated having to kill the dog. She had done nothing wrong. She was just collateral damage.
“Okay.”
Carver turned. The dog was in the hole.
“Now him.”
McGinnis’s body was on the ground by the end of the grave. Stone reached forward and grabbed the ankles and started backing up in the grave, pulling the body into it. The shovel was leaning against the far wall of the excavation. Carver grabbed the handle and pulled it out as Stone moved back.
Stone walked the body in. McGinnis’s shoulders and head dropped down the three feet with a dull thud. While Stone was still stooped forward holding the ankles, Carver swung the shovel and slammed the heel of it down between the younger man’s shoulder blades.
The air blasted out of Stone’s lungs and he fell forward in the grave, landing face-to-face with McGinnis. Carver quickly straddled the grave and pushed the point of the tool into the back of Stone’s neck.
“Take a good look, Freddy,” he said. “I had you dig this one deeper so I could put you in it on top of him.”
“Please…”
“You broke the rules. I did not tell you to call McEvoy. I did not tell you to engage him in conversation. I told you to follow my instructions.”
“I know, I know, I’m sorry. It’ll never happen again. Please.”
“I could make sure it doesn’t happen again right now.”
“No, please. I’ll make up for it. I won’t-”
“Shut up.”
“Okay, but I-”
“I said shut up and listen!”
“Okay.”
“Are you listening?”