by Craig Smith
‘You were ready to lose?’
Garrat considered her options, then shrugged. ‘If we got Missy Worth rehabilitated as a witness, I meant to take it all the way. I wanted a jury to decide if what she said was credible.’
‘I misread this thing, Pat.’
‘Yeah, well, maybe you did, and maybe you hardened my resolve with your little speech and walk-out last week. It doesn’t matter at this point.’
‘You’re dropping the charges?’
She cocked her shoulder the way her daddy had always done it when he had to lose one.
‘Quick retreats in cases like these are fairly standard. First reaction is say you mean to fight to the bitter end. A week later, you talk about the victim wanting to get on with her life, federal judges who are too quick to hear habeas corpus petitions, evidentiary problems arising from the lapse of years, and my favourite: the mistakes of my predecessor. We’re on to new cases by lunchtime.’
I looked away angrily. ‘It’s your call,’ I told her.
‘Talk to me, Rick! Tell me I’m a coward. Tell me this guy’s going to kill again if we don’t stop him. Tell me we can get a conviction if we just try a little harder!’
‘Hell, Pat,’ I said, letting the steam go, ‘Will Booker is an innocent man. Everyone knows that.’
Part IV The Devil’s Wager
. .put forth thine hand now, and touch all that he hath, and he will curse thee to thy face.
And the Lord said unto Satan, Behold, all that he hath is in thy power.
Job 1: 11-12.
Chapter 31
Wednesday 12:30 p.m., March 24.
ALL DAY THE OLD MAN WATCHES game shows, talk TV, and news. Will studies the grey sky, or he reads scripture. Of poor Job who kept faith. He speaks once to the man the night before about Job. He tells him about wagers and sorrows. The story falls on deaf ears.
thed away angril a littway ang
Will tries to sleep but the discomfort is constant. Back and thighs swollen. The IV in his hand fills him with a poison. They have promised to release him the following morning. And home to bed for a week. The hours to freedom drag. At lunch the old man asks him, ‘You hear that?’ Will looks up from his plate. He stares at the old man without answering. ‘Hell’s fire!
They’re letting that killer go! Can you believe it?’ Will stares into the television. His own image answers. A woman’s voice explains that just over an hour ago the prosecutor announced her decision. The Pat Garrat who did not shoot Billy the Kid. ‘He looks a little like you, don’t he?’ Will does not answer. For once the television interests him. He tries to grasp what this means. A complete lack of physical evidence. An unwillingness on the part of the prosecution’s lone eyewitness to testify. Missy.
No choice but to dismiss. It is over. There is nothing more to know or understand. Will is a free man.
Chapter 32
Wednesday 2:30 p.m., March 24.
WILL SPENDS THE EARLY AFTERNOON waiting for Pastor. Expects him any minute.
Come for his stroke of vanity.
Will is not ready for the daughter. Tamara, tall and heavy with her milky flesh and grey-blue-grey eyes, her pale pink lips that he has kissed so many times now, her fine golden hair.
‘Will, I heard!’
Will lifts a finger to his lips. Tamara hesitates. Will rolls his eyes toward the old man who still watches television.
She whispers, ‘You’re free!’
‘I just saw it,’ he answers quietly, nodding toward the television.
‘You said when you’re free...’ Will studies her face. Something has changed.
Something has broken through. Then he understands. Tamara would be his bride on this day.
Yes, he thinks, that is it. The hour has come for the devil’s wager with the Almighty. This moment and no other. It is why God has set him free. The sure and certain sign he must proceed.
‘We can go anywhere we want,’ he tells her. ‘Do whatever we please.’
‘I can’t wait.’
‘I won’t sin, Tammy, but I want you the minute a preacher says amen over us.’
‘I feel the same way!’
‘Are you ready to get married?’ he asks.
‘Yes.’ Her voice rises. Again he hushes her with a finger to his lips.
‘Right now? This minute?’ There is a dare to his tone, the faintest bit of challenge in his eyes.
‘But you can’t, Will. They won’t let you go!’
‘I can leave if I want,’ Will tells her. ‘I’m a free man, Tammy. Remember?’
‘But the bruises? And this thing...’ She looks at the IV stand and the tube that runs to the needle that pierces s lr nged.>
‘They’re going to let me out tomorrow anyway. Why not hurry things along a little?’ He lets her think about this, before he adds, ‘We don’t have to get married. Maybe you’ve got your eye on someone better.’
‘Oh, Will, there’s no one but you, and there’s nothing I want more than to be yours!’
He looks forlornly at the ceiling. ‘What about your parents?’ Tamara considers her parents briefly. It is a hard choice for her, and Will breaks in before she can work through her doubts. ‘What are they going to say when we come back and tell them we got married?’ His laughter has such innocence to it that she has to laugh. They’re not running away forever. Just for a day or so. In the end Daddy will relent and Mamma Rachel will follow his lead.
In her eyes Will can see the wonder of being loved for the first time. Against that everything pales. From the beginning of time that truth is everything. ‘Once your parents understand how much we love each other, they’ll be happy for us, Tammy. You know that, don’t you?’ Her face reflects a dawning of consciousness, the thought of surviving without daddy’s money, and Will moves in quickly. ‘I have some money saved up, Tammy. I mean it’s not much, but it’s enough to get us started. Then I’ll get work, I don’t care what. We’ll get by fine, and I’ll go to school like I always wanted. Become a lawyer and help others.’
A solemn moment. ‘Maybe we should wait, Will. It’s all happening so fast!’
He looks away, his eyes taking in the bright dancing colours of the television screen.
‘Whatever you want,’ he answers coolly. ‘If you don’t love me, I don’t want to force you.’
And that is all it takes. ‘Could you really leave now?’
He sits up, grinning. His back resists. His blue, swollen thighs send arcs of pain through him. He meets her gaze and laughs with a bit of bravado. ‘In a New York minute.’
She giggles, then whispers his name. She wants it. She is only afraid to take the chance!
‘I love you so much,’ he tells her, ‘I can’t think straight until you are mine. I say we just get up and walk out of here now. We head down the road and find a little church in some little town and get married so we can start our honeymoon! After that no one can come between us ever again.’
Her face flushes at the thought. ‘I don’t know. I don’t think we should, Will. Not just yet, I mean. Not right now!’
Will ignores the protest. It is as feeble as the girl’s good sense. ‘We’ll have to go to the house first,’ he explains. ‘Get some clothes packed. You’ll take me that far, won’t you, Tammy? I mean if you want to change your mind once we get to the house, you can. I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to. I just… I can’t sit around here anymore. I want to be free!’
Tamara looks about nervously. ‘Will, I think we ought to wait until they let you out.’
‘What are they going to do if I leave early, Tammy, arrest me?’
‘Are you really okay?’
Will stands up painfully, testing his legs use uncertainly. He is not good. The medicine saps him. The pain throbs through his muscles. He tears the tape away. He pulls the needle of the IV out of his hand. He studies the dark drop of blood which answers. He is dizzy and nauseous, but he puts on his robe and slippers. He asks her casually, ‘Is your mother home?’ Ma
mma Rachel will have to die, of course…
‘She works today.’
‘What about Tabit?’
‘Where are your clothes, Will? You can’t leave like this!’
‘Will Tabit be home this afternoon?’
‘I don’t know. Probably.’
‘Come on,’ he tells her. At the door he stops to give the old man a wink. ‘We’re going take a little walk, Pop. Be back in a few minutes.’
Chapter 33
Wednesday 3:03 p.m., March 24.
CONNIE CHECKED HIS WATCH when he saw Will’s bed was empty. The old man in the other bed looked away from his television set long enough to explain, ‘He’s taking a walk with some pretty little girl. He’ll be back in a few minutes.’ Connie went to a chair next to Will’s bed and saw the IV needle hanging from the stand, the tape still attached to it. He reached to touch it, shook his head quietly, then took Will’s Bible off the bedside stand. He wanted to find the psalm of David, about the glory of a man long oppressed who is set free by the blessing of God. ‘Got a question for you!’
Connie looked up as the pages shifted under his fingers. The old man with his thin, haggard face was pointing at his own neck, but Connie understood the gesture at once. He was curious about Connie’s dog collar. ‘You’re a preacher, ain’t you?’
Connie closed Will’s Bible and put it back on the table gently. ‘That’s right.’
‘So do you believe in the hogwash you preach or do you just say it to make people feel good?’
Connie chuckled. ‘Believe it? Friend, I live it!’
‘My mother was a churchgoer.’ Connie nodded agreeably at this. ‘Give that woman a spare minute, she’d be praying and weeping to God like he could actually do something for her!’
‘Maybe it’s just that you don’t know what He did for her. Some of God’s gifts are very private. Not proof for the infidel but fodder for the faithful.’ From Connie’s boyhood, that one.
A small white pillbox church in a green valley but preaching that had set his heart afire! Before his faithless years had set in.
‘This here Job, he’s in the Bible, ain’t he?’ Connie smiled for answer. ‘Now he never did nothing but good… ain’t that right, just damn near as perfect as a man can get?’
‘The Lord called Job a perfect and upright man,’ Connie answered solemnly.
‘Well then, all I can say is the Lord did him dirty.’
‘How is that?’ Connie asked him.
‘This boy you come to see? He asked me last night if I knew the story, and I said I’d heard of it,oth D but I didn’t remember none of it particularly. So he told it to me flat out. Now that boy’s a talker if he decides he’s going to bother! Kind of surprised me, to tell you the truth. Sits here not saying diddle, then starts in on this Job fellow like they was best friends. Kind of an interesting story, too.’ The old man’s eye twinkled wickedly. ‘But it don’t put God in very good company, Preacher. Said the Devil sat down with God and they made themselves a wager!
Then this boy told me all the things that happened to poor Job because of it. How he lost his money, his farm, his kids, his health... I don’t know what all! Now Preacher, you straighten me out if I’m wrong, but it looks to me like if that’s what being loved by God is all about, I’m damn glad we ain’t even friends!’
Connie reared back in his chair and smiled serenely. He had come for a celebration of God’s infinite mercy, but it turned out the Lord had given him work to do. Will had started this old man on the road to Glory, and it was Connie’s job to bring him on home!
Chapter 34
Wednesday 3:35 p.m., March 24.
TABIT MERRIWEATHER CAME off the bus and crossed the road. She was not in a very good mood, as it happened. Her sister had vanished just before fifth hour, leaving Tabit to find her own way home. Tabit hated the bus. It made her feel like a kid! Then there were troubles with Miss Boetcher. She was determined her sophomore English class should read A Separate Peace.
Not some of it, but every line, thank you, and who cared about a bunch of dead people anyway!
And real life, getting some money, that was turning into a nightmare. It would not come from her parents, so she was going to have to earn it, but being sixteen you were last in line for every job they advertised. Supposed to have an interview next week. Sell ice cream. Perfect. Except she wasn’t sure what she was supposed to say so they would give her the job. How would you describe yourself, Tabit? People person. I love people. I think scooping ice cream for people would make me feel I was doing something to make the world a better place. She shook her head miserably. Oh, well, just one more job she was not going to get.
Tabit checked the mail and pulled several envelopes out. Nothing for her of course. She tucked them under her arm and went up the drive. Still raining. Always raining. Build an ark, better. Tammy’s car was not in the driveway, so she would still be at the hospital. The girl was in love, as if Will couldn’t do better. Tabit stuck her key in the lock and turned it. The bolt snapped but the door held firm when she pushed. She had locked it, which meant Tammy had come home and then left and forgot to lock the door. So what was new? Eighteen-going-on-six.
Tabit turned the key again and pushed the door open.
That was when the hand took her. Tabit felt it before she saw it, and what she felt was cold and strong. Before she could even set her feet, she found herself jerked through the door and thrown skittering across the entryway. She saw the mirror but could do nothing more than raise her hand. She hit the glass with her forearm. She heard the glass break, felt a dull thud as she hit her head. She saw her blood. Then saw Will closing the front door.
‘What are you doing!’ she cried angrily. Will bolted the door from the inside and pocketedand T the key. That scared her, but not as much as the look he gave her. Tabit did not speak again; her scream was nothing more than a single, primal shriek as she turned to run.
Chapter 35
Wednesday 3:58 p.m., March 24.
TAMARA SITS PRETTILY AT HER chair bound by thick cords of clothesline and gagged with a pair of socks from one of her drawers and tape from Pastor’s workbench. Will pulls the tape and the socks from Tamara’s mouth.
‘Did you hurt her?’ Tamara’s voice screeches with hysteria and Will takes the girl’s shoulders. He stares into her eyes. He must bring her down; he needs her. ‘I told you, Tammy, I won’t hurt her as long as you help me.’
‘I don’t know what you want!’ Blubbering snot and tears.
‘First, I want you to quit screaming. If you scream again, I’m going to go downstairs and kill her. Do you understand me?’
Tamara’s face is red with grief and fear, but she nods her head, choking back her sobs.
‘I want to keep Tabit alive, Tammy. I don’t want to kill her. Just don’t make me. Do you understand?’ She nods again. ‘And I don’t want to hurt you.’
‘Will! Why are you doing this?’ Pleading, confused.
‘Your voice!’ he hisses.
She whispers his name as he frees the last of her bindings. A child begging through her tears. ‘ Will, please! ’
‘If you help me, if you’re good, I’ll let you both go. Just don’t disappoint me, Tammy.’
His muscles aching, the nausea still throttling him, Will struggles to stay standing, even as he tells her over and over as they walk down the stairs that she has to save her sister; she has to help him if she wants them both to live. She is a believer in his power, so walks like a lamb to the blood-drenched altar. In the garage Will grabs a shovel and canvas tarp. He puts both in the backseat. He gets more rope from a long line, cutting it into equal lengths, rolling each piece up so it fits into his jeans pocket. After running several strips of tape along his jeans so he can get to it quickly, Will brings the roll along. He sees a long screwdriver in a rack and pulls it out. A weapon of sorts. Sufficient for the day.
HE SEES TAMARA SCANNING the windows of the neighbours’ houses as they back out of the drive. ‘They wo
n’t help you, Tammy. What they will do is they will just get you and Tabit killed.’ At once, she stares down at her plump knees. ‘Now I want you to quit crying,’ he tells her. His voice is soothing, reasonable, calm.
‘I can’t!’ she sobs.
Will turns out toward the country at his first opportunity. They go along the gravel road they took before. After a time, he asks, ‘Do you know where we are?’ Tamara looks about, then shakes her head. Her eyes are bloody with her tears; her nose drips snot. The roof of the abandoned barn appears over the roadside weeds as they come closer. ‘I kissed you here, Tammy.’ Sobs rattle out of her. ‘I’m not going to hurt you,’ he tells her. ‘I have something here I need. We have to get it before I can go on.’ No cars are coming, and they slip into the drive, pulling back ut dbehind some heavy weeds so they are invisible from the road. Will tells her to get out. When he takes the shovel from the backseat Tamara thinks he means to bury her and falls to the dirt taking his knees, begging for her life. Will watches calmly. When her sobbing rises to the point of screams, he leans forward, taking her hair and pulling it to get her attention. ‘My money,’ he tells her simply. ‘It’s here. I have to get it. I’m not going to hurt you.’ He pushes her toward the open meadow. ‘I want you to get through this, Tammy. I want you to live. Just go along with me on this. I promise you everything is going to be fine.’
