83
Faith Ann lay in the darkness between the bags and cases, just about frozen from the wind washing over her. Nobody had told her that the thirty-minute ride to the Bible bee would involve a three-hour detour to allow some no-stopping-to-get-out sightseeing. When the van finally slowed and turned, and gravel crunched under the tires, she leaned up on her elbow to see that they had pulled up in a large gravel lot next to a church building with a tall steeple. The van doors opened, and the kids and two adult chaperones spilled out. All of the kids, delighted to be somewhere, started horsing around in the parking lot below her perch.
A male voice rang out. “Okay, gang! Take the cases down. They go inside. Your bags all go in the van. Let's get cracking. We're on the Lord's time!”
To Faith Ann's immense relief, Peter was first up the ladder. He pointed at the left side of the van and held up two fingers, warning her that the two adults were down there. He untied the first duffel and tossed it down to someone on the ground. With Peter on the ladder, there was no way anybody else could see her unless he moved aside. It seemed that the others were happy to let him do the high-altitude work.
“You okay?” he murmured. “You must have just about froze your nuts off.”
“Yeah, just about. The coat sure helped. Thanks,” she said, handing it to him.
“Okay,” he said, looking off to his left. “Mr. Lander is headed inside the church. Ms. Forest isn't looking this way. Everybody knows about you but them, so come around me and go down the ladder. Just stand down there while we unload the crap and they'll think you're one of the local yokels. Jesus, j-e-z-i-s.”
Faith did as he said, holding onto the rail and edging past him. As she hit the ground, the teenagers crowded around to cover for her. After the things were offloaded, Faith Ann wandered into the church with Peter. The competition was being set up in the sanctuary. There were about seventy kids and at least twice that many adults-mostly parents and siblings of the contestants. Faith Ann doubted anybody else would want to sit in on this if they didn't have to.
“What're you gonna do now?” a voice asked. She turned to find herself face-to-face with another boy.
“I need to make a long-distance call. I guess I ought to go find a pay phone.”
“This is Ashe,” Peter said. “He's the best speller we have.”
“Nice to meet you,” Faith Ann said, shaking the boy's hand.
Ashe's brown eyes were serious. “You're a girl, aren't you?”
Faith Ann nodded.
“I told ya,” Ashe said, punching Peter's shoulder. “I knew I saw breasts when the wind blew her shirt against 'em.”
“I knew that,” Peter said indignantly. “She's way too pretty to be a guy.”
“Unless you're turning queer,” Ashe said, laughing. “Which you probably are. You're that girl the cops are looking for, aren't you?”
Faith Ann felt the heat rising to her cheeks. She didn't know what to say, what the boys would do. “Yeah.”
“Cool,” Peter said.
“You can use this, then.” Ashe held out a Nokia cell phone painted with red and yellow flames. “My mom gets pissed if I rack up roams. Talk as long as you want.”
The two boys high-fived.
“Thank you, guys,” she said, kissing each of them in turn on their cheeks. She felt like yelling.
“Anytime,” Peter said.
“Guys, what's the name of this place again?”
“Church of Christ. Barataria, Louisiana.”
Faith Ann dialed Rush's number and held her breath while it rang.
84
Tinnerino saw the four men strolling from the hospital's main entrance stopping at Manseur's car. Tinnerino heard the sound of Manseur's car door opening over the receiver. Manseur had just opened his door when the marshal answered his cell phone, stepped away a few steps to talk. Massey was on the phone for a minute, before he took out a card and scribbled on it. Massey waved the other two men into Manseur's car.
Through the earphones Tinnerino heard the men getting into Manseur's car and slamming the doors. He opened his pad to make notes because making a tape of this wasn't smart.
“That was Sean. Faith Ann just called her,” the deputy's voice said.
“Where is she?” Manseur asked. “Did she say?”
Massey was silent for a few seconds. “She's about thirty miles from here and she's freaked.”
“You direct, I'll drive,” Manseur said.
“I have to go alone. If she sees anyone besides me, she'll bolt. Last time she called, the cops showed up before I did. I'll get her calmed down and explain things and I'll bring her back. Sean told her the police weren't trying to arrest her, but she doesn't believe it.”
Manseur said, “I'm interested in this alleged evidence. Does she have it or not?”
“She doesn't have the evidence with her. She hid it after she escaped the parking deck. You can wait at the governor's hotel and I'll bring her straight there. You can get the governor to put a hold on the execution. You can see it when we show it to him, and we won't waste time.”
Manseur said, “I won't bother the governor, attempt to stop Pond's execution, until I see absolute proof that he's innocent. I'm not believing Suggs was involved in a frame and cover-up until I see proof.”
“She has an audiotape of the killings in the office and negatives and photocopies of pictures that show the real killer doing it.”
Manseur said, “And you believe that sort of evidence exists-that somebody was stupid enough to take some sort of incriminating pictures and keep them? That girl has a vivid imagination.”
“Maybe not,” Massey said.
Manseur was silent for long seconds. “Okay. So what do we do?”
Massey said, “Nicky and Adams will go to my hotel and wait for me to bring Faith Ann there. You said a few minutes ago you hadn't seen your family in two days, so go home. I'll call you when we get the evidence and we can meet and you can see the stuff and make your call to the governor.”
“I get the feeling you don't trust me,” Manseur said.
There was a long silence in the car.
“Okay. Meet me at the ferry landing at Canal Street-an hour, an hour and a half,” Massey said. “I'll pass on the evidence envelope.”
Tin Man heard three car doors closing.
The Impala's engine came to life and Tin Man heard Manseur call his wife to tell her he was swinging by the house to say good night. Then he turned the car radio to some opera crap and Tinnerino turned the volume on the receiver down.
“Who the hell are we following?” Doyle asked over the radio. “They're leaving in three separate cars.”
“Nobody,” Tin Man said. “Let them go.”
“What?”
“I know where they're going. We can give them all the space in the world.”
Tin Man dialed Captain Suggs. And he smiled because he knew their plans. He also finally knew exactly what the girl had and what all that lovely knowledge was going to be worth down the road. Suggs would put together a plan to snag the evidence. Let the Spics handle the heavy lifting. Tin Man didn't want to actually kill a child, or be in a shoot-out with Massey. When Manseur sent him and Doyle out, he would be handing them alibis on a silver platter.
85
Passing under a banner proclaiming a “Bible bee,” Winter went into the Church of Christ in Barataria, Louisiana. He declined a program sheet offered by a man in a knit shirt with winglike collars and entered into the sanctuary, stopping at the top of the wide center aisle.
On the riser, teenagers sat in rows of folding chairs. A skinny girl with frizzy red hair stood at the pulpit. “Armageddon,” she said into the microphone. “A-r-m-a-g-e-d-d-o-n. Armageddon.”
“That… is correct,” a voice announced.
Someone in the audience shouted out, “Praise His holy name!”
The girl raised her hands in the air in triumph.
A camera flashed.