Kings of Midnight (27 page)

“Will he live?”

“No one knows right now.”

“What about the hearing?”

Rathka didn't answer. There was no need to.

She felt light-headed, moved to the couch, sat. She had a vision of Wayne walking down the tier, moving toward his fate, taking control of it, not letting his future be decided by someone else.

We were so close, baby, she thought. So close.

She opened her eyes, felt the water there, blinked it away.

“I'm sorry,” Rathka said.

“He did it for me.”

“What?”

“He told me I should move on. That I should forget him. That it was better that way.”

She looked at the tattoo on the inside of her wrist. You were wrong, baby, she thought. You were wrong, wrong, wrong.

“Are you still there?” Rathka said.

“Yeah.” She looked out at the rain.

“I'm expecting some more news from our guard soon. Maybe something about the other inmate's condition. I'll let you know as soon as I do.”

“It doesn't matter anyway. Not anymore.”

“What's that?”

“Never mind. Let me know what you find out. I'll have this number for a few days.”

“I will. And again, I'm sorry.”

“I am, too,” she said, and ended the call.

*   *   *

She sat on the couch, watched rain sluice down the sliding glass door, listened to it drum on the roof. The duffel full of money was at her feet, the bag with Jimmy's cut beside it. She would take it to him tomorrow maybe, tell him everything that had happened. Tell him about Wayne.

For months, she'd lived with the hope that with enough money, enough luck, he would be out of there, back with her. Then, one day, Maddie, too. The three of them together at last, a family. All of that gone now.

Wind rattled the glass. A low howl filled the room.

But she was through running. Through waiting for something that was never going to come, that she couldn't have. This was her life now. Not something in the future she could put together, piece by piece, like a puzzle, trying to make everything fit.

This was it. There was nothing else. And no more running. If anyone came looking for her, they could find her here.

She took out the Tomcat, eased back the slide to check the chambered shell. It was a good weapon after all, solid, dependable. She set it on the arm of the couch.

Rain blew against the glass. She put a hand over the cold gun. Tomorrow she'd call Rathka back, set up that new account for Maddie, start moving money around. She had enough of it now, all she needed for the moment. Enough to buy a new name, a new set of papers, a start on a new life.

But that was tomorrow. Right now there was just the gray sky, the wind, the darkening room, the bag of cash at her feet, the gun under her hand. All she had in the world. All she might ever have. And not enough.

ALSO BY WALLACE STROBY

Cold Shot to the Heart

Gone 'til November

The Heartbreak Lounge

The Barbed-Wire Kiss

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

KINGS OF MIDNIGHT
. Copyright © 2012 by Wallace Stroby. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin's Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.

www.minotaurbooks.com

The Library of Congress has cataloged the print edition as follows:

 

Stroby, Wallace.

Kings of midnight / Wallace Stroby.—1st ed.

    p. cm.

ISBN 978-1-250-00037-8 (hardcover)

ISBN 978-1-4299-5116-6 (e-book)

1.  Crime—Fiction.   2.  Female offenders—Fiction.   I.  Title.

   PS3619.T755K56 2012

   813'.6—dc23

2011045371

e-ISBN 9781429951166

First Edition: April 2012