At Close Range

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  He deserved a good come.

  Bobby was halfway home when his cell vibrated against his thigh.

  “Donahue,” he said, recognizing the number immediately. It was a number he never ignored. No matter what.

  “Jury’s back.” The voice was soft, barely audible. The voice of a man the world saw as a lowly janitor. The voice of a disciple.

  “And?”

  “They’re getting ready to read the verdict. I thought you’d want to hear.”

  “Well done.”

  At first all he could make out was mumbling in the background, but his associate was an expert and soon Bobby could hear Judge Hannah Montgomery as clearly as though he were down in Phoenix, in the courtroom with her that very second.

  And two minutes later, when he could speak once again, every part of his body was shaking.

  First Amanda. And now this.

  Challenges. Opportunities for growth. He could handle them.

  “You make sure that boy’s protected, do you hear me?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And get him out of there. No matter what it takes. I want him free.”

  Bobby had given his word to certain people who were, in an earthly sense, more important than God. The Hills. Their compatriots. People with the money that supported Ivory Nation causes.

  “Protecting you is my first priority,” his contact said.

  And Bobby didn’t even hesitate. “Not this time, it isn’t. Put all resources on him.”

  He didn’t like the long pause. Or the question that followed. “Are you sure?”

  “Do it.”

  He clicked off before another word could be said.

  Bobby wouldn’t accept insubordination. Not from anyone. Even from the man who’d become his most trusted follower.

  “They came back guilty.” Still in her robe, Hannah sat back in her desk chair and stared blankly at the wall across from her.

  It was filled with law tomes. Diplomas and commendations. All valuable. Some saw them as a symbol of power.

  But they couldn’t protect her from the demons that plagued her in the middle of the night. They couldn’t keep her safe.

  And neither could Brian Hampton. Still, he was the first person she’d called.

  “So justice was done.”

  Just hearing his voice calmed her unease. She’d had lunch with Joan that day, hoping for a dosage of real life. The antidote had had no effect.

  “Yes. Justice was done.”

  “Congratulations.” He didn’t sound all that pleased.

  “Thanks.”

  “You heading home?”

  Home. Where she lived. Where her life was. Her routine and normalcy. Where darkness and the fears she refused to let conquer her seemed to roam at will.

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m leaving now, too. You want me to swing by on my way?”

  It wasn’t really on his way.

  “No. I’ll be fine.”

  “Of course you will be. You always are, right?”

  Was anyone? Really?

  “Right.”

  “I’ll be there in half an hour.”

  “This is stupid.”

  “So? Who has to know? And it’s not like we’ve never done anything stupid before. Remember the time we drank that entire keg of beer, went up on the roof of Mandalay House and dumped flour down on couples making out on the ground?”

  Mandalay House. The guys’ dorm across from the sorority house she’d shared with Cara and Joan and six other sisters after Jason’s death. Brian had lived in Mandalay House.

  “I didn’t dump flour.”

  “But you were there. You cracked up when I nailed Carrie Williams while she was kissing Jim Bailey. You liked him, as I recall.”

  She had. Briefly. When she’d been trying to run from the grief of losing Jason. Not that she’d have expected Brian to remember that.

  “And I remember distinctly because you laughed so hard you farted.”

  “I did not!”

  “Yes, Your Honor, you did. I was standing right behind you and saw you look around to see if anyone had heard.”

  “Brian Hampton, don’t you dare go around telling such lies!” He was being outrageous. But she was smiling. And remembering. Those had been such bittersweet years. While all the other kids had been experiencing their first real taste of freedom, she’d been grieving for her husband. And yet, for the first time in her life, she’d been carefree, too.

  “It isn’t a lie, but you also notice I’ve never spoken of it,” Brian continued. “In all these years, I’ve never told a soul. Which proves that you can trust me not to tell anyone if I see you home this once.”

  She didn’t need him to do this. She’d be perfectly fine going home alone. But he was being awfully nice and…

  “What about Cynthia?”

  “She and Joseph had an appointment with a child psychologist this afternoon and she promised to take him for a hamburger and French fries at his favorite fast-food place afterward so he had something to look forward to.”

  “She’s a good mom, isn’t she?”

  “Yeah. That kid is everything to her.”

  “Lucky kid.”

  “So will you take pity on me and let me stop by on my way home?”

  “You’re full of it, Brian Hampton, you know that?”

  “Yeah. I’ll see you in half an hour.”

  He said goodbye, but Hannah couldn’t let him hang up yet. “Brian?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Thank you.”

  9

  W illiam and her deputy escorted Hannah out to her car. And then, needing to leave while security could see her safely off the lot, she made her second call of the evening. To the man in the car right behind her.

  He didn’t know he was second. He shouldn’t have been.

  “I’m worried about you,” William said as soon as they were able to speak freely, albeit in different vehicles.

  “Whatever for?”

  “The guilty verdict.”

  “Come on, Will.” She spoke commandingly, pushing back her fear. “Kenny Hill is just the latest in a line of convictions for the Ivory Nation over the years. Not one judge has ever been touched.”

  “This case was different. Bobby Donahue came forward.”

  “Which is all the more reason not to try anything. The entire country would hunt them, if necessary, if they retaliated against a judge.”

  “Yes, but that might not stop them. These guys’ll do anything for a cause, you know that.”

  “William!” she said, waving at him as their routes took them in opposite directions. “I can’t believe this is you, talking! You’ve handled far more of these cases than I have. You even dismissed the threats against Francis a couple of years ago, and you were right to do so. Rather than overreacting and scaring your son to death, you took commonsense precautions and went on with your life. And, I might add, nothing happened.”

  His sigh was heavy, as though weights that used to be light to him, were suddenly hard for him to carry. “Times have changed, Hannah. Look at the judge in Chicago. And the courtroom in Atlanta. We aren’t as sacrosanct as we used to be. These are the days of suicide bombers and terrorists. People are willing to die for their beliefs—and to take other people with them, no matter how random it seems to us. And all for a cause.”

  He was scaring the shit out of her.

  “What’s gotten into you?” she asked. “It sounds like you need a vacation. How about this weekend? We could drive up to Prescott or Sedona. You game?”

  Getting away sounded good. Though even as she made the suggestion, she was a little uncomfortable. A trip out of town meant the awkwardness of deciding on one room or two. Until now, two rooms had been understood, but recently William had been sending out some pretty clear signals. He was ready for more intimacy than she was.

  But was she ready to lose him over it?

  She didn’t think so.

  “Just me and you?” His qu
estion fed her suspicions.

  “Of course.” She wouldn’t deal with the sleeping arrangements yet.

  “We could fly to Vegas,” he suggested. “Now that’s a city where a body can get lost.”

  And get a headache, too. But the shows were fabulous.

  “Fine,” she said, eager in spite of the possible impending change in their relationship. A couple of days away from Phoenix, from her empty house, were just the ticket.

  “I’ll make the reservations,” he said before telling her to take care, his standard farewell.

  It was only after she’d hung up that she realized he’d never offered to see that she was safe at home.

  Brian was waiting in the driveway when Hannah arrived. He went inside ahead of her, walked around, checking all the windows, making certain that she was satisfied that not a speck of dust had been moved, and then he got the heck out of there before he could be tempted to stay.

  He didn’t even mention his visit from the Phoenix police earlier that day. He wasn’t going to give it that much credence. Even to himself. And he sure as hell didn’t want to give Hannah anything more to worry about.

  Hannah and William stayed at The Mirage. One room with two double beds. William claimed that was all they had left. One room. He’d been lucky to get it.

  Hannah applauded herself for having the foresight to pack a pair of lightweight sweats and top to sleep in. Just in case.

  Funny how, when he’d called late Wednesday night to give her their reservation details, he’d never mentioned that there’d been only one room.

  They had tickets to Love, the Grammy Award-winning Cirque du Soleil show at the Mirage—one of the few shows Hannah had not yet seen. They ate dinner. And then they went upstairs.

  Braced for a fight, Hannah let him kiss her good-night while she was still fully clothed. And in the end, slid into his bed willingly enough. William was gentle and sweet and she’d been alone for a long time.

  Pay dirt. Once again at his computer, naked, in the middle of the night, Bobby Donahue sat up straight, staring at the lines of details, phone numbers, times of day, durations, dates, his instincts screaming. He’d found her.

  Or at least, where she’d been a couple of months ago. For at least ten minutes each day, three days in a row.

  Finding her had been easy, really, once he’d started a search for all Alliance brothers who’d visited Arizona prisons recently. There’d been plenty of those. But just one who’d also been receiving regular calls from a pay phone. Only reason he could think of for an Alliance brother to get calls from a pay phone, a technology easily traced, was if he was talking to someone on the run. Someone who had no other choice but to use a cell phone. Someone who wouldn’t be in the same location if the call was traced.

  The guy was Alliance. He was visiting the prison where a friend of Amanda’s was incarcerated. He’d received pay phone calls. The guy was involved with Amanda.

  A quick phone call and he was certain. The Ivory Nation wasn’t the only organization who’d ever had a traitor. Or a double dipper.

  Another search in places he shouldn’t be, and he had an address for the pay phone. In Apache Junction—just outside of Phoenix. A couple of hours from Bobby’s Flagstaff home.

  He knew the place. His first drug deal had gone down there, out in the desert, a couple of twelve-year-olds with edges that were way rougher than they should’ve been. And then, with a bagful of weed, he’d hitchhiked his way back up to Flagstaff, and the trailer where his drunken father probably hadn’t known he’d been gone all weekend.

  Or even that the weekend had passed.

  That Monday, he’d come home from school with enough cash in his pocket to begin planning his escape.

  All that was before he’d been called by God. Before he’d known that rotten kids from the wrongest side of the tracks could save the world.

  Amanda being in Apache Junction seemed right somehow.

  Dropping to his knees in front of his desk, the wood floor hard, even through his calluses, Bobby bowed down.

  “Thank you, God. My heavenly God, once again You have blessed my righteousness and once again, I am in awe that You, the beloved, chose me. I love You, Father.” He paused as tears streamed down his cheeks. “I am humbly Thine, my God, here to do as You call me to do. Anything, Father. I will do anything for You. I am Your servant. At Your command.”

  When the phone rang five minutes later, regardless of the fact that it was three o’clock Sunday morning, Bobby wasn’t the least surprised.

  “Yes?” God always responded quickly.

  “It’s done.”

  This was God’s will, then.

  Bobby Donahue would be their sacrifice. He would martyr himself to free God’s people. To free Kenny Hill.

  All was well. As God ordained.

  “I’m ready.”

  The sun was still shining when William pulled into Hannah’s drive Sunday afternoon. As eager as she’d been to get away, she was glad to be home.

  After lifting her bag out of the trunk, William leaned in for a kiss. Not their usual peck on the cheek, but a deep, consuming, tongue-meeting kiss.

  “I’ll call you later,” he said, heading for the driver’s seat.

  Hannah nodded, watching him as he backed onto the street. After the passion he’d been unable to contain the night before, the way he’d hardly been able to keep his hands off her all day, she’d expected him to stay over. Or at least to try.

  But then, he’d been withdrawn since they’d landed at Sky Harbor. Was he having regrets?

  Wasn’t she?

  Shaking her head as he turned at the corner, she headed up the walk. Too many questions. And no answers.

  What had they started? And how would it play out at work?

  Would they kiss there, too? And hold hands?

  Would everyone know that she and Will Horne slept together this weekend? Finally?

  Or did they all assume that had been going on for years?

  Did she really care what people thought?

  With the last question still in her mind, she let herself in the front door.

  And stopped.

  Not a single thing was where she’d left it.

  Sick, shaking, turning her back on the wreckage that had once been her home, hardly able to absorb the tipped-over furniture, broken glass and unrecognizable debris, Hannah fumbled at her waist for her cell phone, and dialed 911.

  She was still shaking half an hour later as she waited outside while Deputy Charles and his crew, after asking her all the pertinent questions, moved their way through the destruction in her living room.

  This time, she called William first. Seemed like the appropriate thing to do, now that they’d become lovers. Or at least since they’d had sex.

  And it was Sunday. She had no business bothering Brian when he was at home with his family. The last thing she wanted was to become a problem between him and his new love.

  “What?” Will’s clipped tone was indicative of his stress as Hannah told him what happened. “They weren’t there when you went in, were they?”

  The police dispatcher had asked her that when she phoned. She hadn’t even thought of the possibility. Which, considering her job and the cases she heard on a daily basis, just showed how off her game she was.

  “No. At least, if they were, they were gone by the time Deputy Charles arrived. I waited for him across the street.”

  And her neighbors, an elderly couple she’d met occasionally while wheeling out her big city-issued trash can, had offered to let her spend the night if she needed to. Or wanted the company.

  “And you weren’t hurt, right?”

  His concern warmed her. “Right.”

  “Thank God for that,” he said, with obvious relief. “How extensive was the damage?”

  Hannah sat on the front stoop, tucking her long cotton skirt around her. “I have no idea. I haven’t been all the way through, but it looks as though the living room is the only room that th
ey touched. It was completely trashed. Stuff ground into the carpet, the furniture and paintings slashed, curtains shredded. I don’t know…” After a minute of looking around, she’d had to leave. It was too much to take in all at once.

  “It was the Ivory Nation,” William said, his tone brooking no argument. “You know that.”

  “Charles doesn’t think so.” This news was the only relief she had, and she was eager to share it with William. “He says it was probably kids. Whoever did this didn’t have a lot of strength. The slashes weren’t deep, the furniture was turned over, but not with the force of a man flipping it since the frames were still intact. Nothing more than five feet off the ground was touched.”

  “So they’re trying to throw off the cops,” William said adamantly. “Don’t ignore me on this one, Hannah.” His warning was clear. Authoritative. As though he were addressing a defendant in his courtroom. “I know them and this is definitely their work. It’s too coincidental that something like this would happen the exact weekend you send one of their brothers to prison.”

  “He hasn’t been sentenced yet.”

  “Exactly.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “They’re out of patience. If you don’t lean in their favor with the sentencing they’re going to trash a lot more than your living room.”

  “Will, stop it.” Hannah stood, a hand on her forehead as she tried to think straight. “You’re scaring me.”

  “Good!” His response surprised her. Until he continued. “I want you scared. It’s the only way I can make you listen. Make you keep yourself safe.”

  “You didn’t give in and you were fine.”

  “I’ve been lucky enough to have enough competent defenders to keep my ass out of hot water.”

  Was William glad the state had lost so many Ivory Nation cases? Surely not.

  “But what if you hadn’t?” she asked softly. “If the state had been able to prove those cases, you’d have ruled justly, and sentenced justly, too, wouldn’t you?”

  “Of course.” His lack of hesitation satisfied her completely. And confirmed what she’d already known. William Horne was one of the good guys.