Cut to the Bone(89)
“Sure thing, boss,” Trent said, jumping to his feet.
“Did hell just freeze over?” one guard said to the other as Trent dropped his drawers.
“Why?”
“He didn’t give us static. Stateville says we’d have to Taser him to get his clothes-”
“Uh, hey, fellas?” Trent asked.
The guards looked.
Trent was stroking himself at them.
“That’s better,” the guard said, cracking up.
10:07 a.m.
“Let ‘er rip, make sure she’s working,” the Royce Road water crew chief said. “Then we’re gone.”
The engineer pushed the starter. The massive booster pump kicked to life.
10:30 a.m.
“And that’s what I must do,” Danny finished. “Questions?”
“My God, Reverend,” one breathed. “You really murdered all those policemen?”
“Yes,” Danny said. “And Earl took the blame. He died so I might live.”
“Your brother’s a saint,” said another, looking to the sky.
“No,” Danny said. “He wasn’t. But he’s the best man I ever knew.”
“There’s no other way to resurrect Earl’s good name?” the choir director asked.
Danny shook his head. “I’m a killer. So is Governor Covington. It’s time we paid for that. This is the only possible way.” He rubbed his face. It felt 1,000 years old.
“I understand if you need to turn me in right away,” he said. “But I pray you don’t. I need to bring down Covington to pay for the blood on my hands. This is my Golgotha.”
He paused.
“And his.”
10:42 a.m.
“Boss?” the walkie-talkie crackled.
“Go ahead,” the crew chief replied.
“I’m in a driveway east of your location: Water’s pouring like Niagara. It’s coming from the ground and inside the house. I rang the doorbell, but nobody’s home.”
The crew chief stomped in frustration. “Extra pressure broke something.”
“My guess. Lots of old pipes in this sector.”
The engineer silenced the pump. The crew chief grabbed his radio.
“Send a water evacuation team ASAP,” he told the public works dispatcher. “And police to open the door.”
10:45 a.m.
“He congratulated me for pulling you out of the house,” Emily said. “Then he shook my hand.”
“I hope you washed after.”
“Very funny.”
Marty smiled at the phone. “All’s well on Deathmore, I trust?”
“So far. Ten of my witnesses are here. The others are at Safety Town, waiting for the bus. Chair’s ready, and so is the staff. The protest is noisy, but nonviolent. Danny Monroe’s nowhere to be found. Tell the truth, I’m bored.”
“Beats the alternative,” Marty said.
“Love you, too,” she said.
They hung up.
He looked at the phone, then at the television, debating.
10:47 a.m.
Danny Monroe floated as he walked toward the police command bunker. To his astonishment, the elders not only blessed his plan, but vowed to stand with him.
“There’s no escaping 1966,” one said. “What you did was horrific. But you’re no longer that man. God changed you for the better.” She opened her arms. “We love you, Danny. We’d be honored to stand by your side at the press conference . . .”
“Thanks, boss,” he murmured to the sky.
The sun seemed to wink back. Danny smiled. Probably a cloud.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Dr. Winslow demanded.
“To do my job,” Marty said, tying his shoelace.
“Trent will perish just fine without you,” she said.
Marty shrugged, headed for the door.
Winslow planted a hand in his chest. “The sheriff excused you from witness duty. You’re trying to rescue Emily.” She nodded at the TV. “Aren’t you?”
“Never entered my mind, Doc. This is strictly about me and Corey Trent.”
“I worry about her, too, Marty,” Winslow said. “But I know she’ll be fine. You’re not. Just because I let you play horsey before doesn’t mean you can handle the stress of an execution. You still need several days’ rest.”
Marty took her lightly freckled wrist, gently pushed it to the side.
“I’ll call the sheriff,” she called after him.
“Tell him I said hey,” Marty called back, waving.
10:57 a.m.
“Three minutes, Governor,” the director said. “Take your position.”
Covington strode to the press pool in the north wing of the Justice Center. His speech was in his pocket, but he wouldn’t need it. He knew every syllable by heart.