Reckoning and Ruin (13 page)

Chapter Twenty-seven

I took a seat on the metal stool in my assigned cubicle, pressed my knees together. The long narrow window to my right showed a slice of blue sky, the razor wire gleaming against it. My head felt swimmy-light, almost giddy, and I pressed both hands flat against my belly. I conjured Trey as clearly as I could, not the bossy lecture-y Trey, the solid comforting Trey.

I felt the breath go in, the breath go out.

The screen flared to life, but all I saw was the white-sheeted corner of a hospital bed. I heard voices, a muttered complaint about squeaky wheels. A timer started in the upper right-hand corner—twenty minutes and counting down. The view went shaky as a hand dipped in front of the camera, which then started a slow pan up the bed.

Jasper reclined there. He wore a jumpsuit the color of half-dead leaves. I made myself meet his eyes, which were snake-green, almost metallic. He eased closer to the camera, lean to the point of gauntness, his blond hair dull under the fluorescents. His lower lip was split like a ripe melon, and a shiner the color of a thundercloud darkened his left eye.

He wiggled his fingers at his forehead. “I apologize for my appearance today. The American incarceration experience is brutal at times.”

Despite the injuries, he was enjoying himself. He folded his hands over his stomach, a half-smile twisting his mouth. I opened my hands, not remembering when I'd clenched them into fists. On screen, the image jerked to the side, and I saw Shane there, all official in his scrubs. He didn't look my way, not even when he adjusted the camera back on the hospital bed. I knew he was listening, though, collecting every single word.

“I heard you picked that fight yourself,” I said. “Practically volunteered to be a human punching bag. That true?”

“Is that why you're here? To ask stupid questions?”

“I'm here to get some answers.”

Jasper examined me cannily. “My lawyer says the only reason you're here is that the prosecutor is pulling some strings. Is she pulling your strings, cuz? Like a puppet?”

“Did your lawyer also tell you that there's a police report filed? That we are onto you and whoever you have on the outside threatening Hope Lyle?”

“What makes you think that's any of my doing? If I'd wanted to threaten that woman, I coulda done it while she was over in the women's. Where she made a right nice sitting duck.”

“Who's saying you didn't?”

Jasper leaned back, spread his hands behind his head. A bandage wrapped his left forearm, obscuring the Blood Drop Cross tattoo he had there, along with most of the Confederate battle flag. I could barely see the red and blue peeking out from beneath the gauze.

“As much as I'd like to establish my innocence, my lawyer said I shouldn't be answering any of your questions. He said anything I say can be trotted right down to the prosecutor's office, that talking to you will hurt my defense and perhaps prejudice later juries when the civil case comes to trial.”

He recited the words fluidly, as if quoting Ainsworth Lovett himself. I edged closer to the screen and folded my hands on the tabletop.

“Oh yes. The civil case. That load of bull puckey.”

Jasper looked surprised. “Your boyfriend did with malice aforethought bring his foot down on my wrist, shattering the…what are those bones called?”

“Radius and ulna,” Shane supplied off-camera, “with attendant damage to the scaphoid.”

“Right. This was after he shot me in the ankle. And I don't even want to talk about what we had to do to fix this shoulder. At least I didn't have to pay for the PT, thanks to the good taxpayers of Georgia.”

My hands curled into fists again. “You were reaching for your weapon.”

“I was reaching out for mercy, begging him to stop. Haven't you seen the camera surveillance?”

“I have. That's not what it shows.”

He shrugged. “My lawyer says the sequence of events is open for interpretation.”

“That bullet you sent whizzing by my head was pretty clear.”

“All I remember is you suddenly kicking me in the knee and taking off into the woods—damaging my patella, this PT fellow says—and I limped myself after you because I was worried about you, because I'd heard bullets too.”

I clenched my jaw. Talk about revisionist history. I wanted to crawl through the camera and shake Jasper until he rattled and then do the same to Shane, who'd obviously picked a side in the upcoming trial.

“I don't care what your best buddy in scrubs there says, you tried to kill me. And then you tried to kill Hope.”

He shook his head. “No, I was simply coming to claim what I'd purchased from her. I had a huge investment in that piece of paper she was carrying.”

“Hope tells it different.”

“The way I hear it, Hope ain't saying shit.” He shrugged again, but his eyes glittered. “I mean, I haven't had anything to do with such, of course. Rumors spread like athlete's foot in this godforsaken place.”

“Any of those rumors about John?”

“John who?”

“Don't play stupid. Hope's gone, he's gone, and I know you're behind it.”

His eyes widened. “Wait a minute, that John? He's missing? Seriously? You want I should get one of these nice correctional officers to call up the law for you?”

I ground my teeth together to keep the expletives in my mouth. The timer in the corner of the screen had counted down to ten minutes. I was supposed to have gotten more time, but I didn't care. I wasn't sure how I was going to manage another second of Jasper's infuriating act, much less thirty more minutes.

“You know damn well John's missing. I want to know why considering John's got zero testimony to offer against you.”

He scratched the back of his head, cutting his eyes first at Shane then back at me. “Then why would I be messing with him? Seems if I was that kind of man, I'd start with you and Trey.”

My blood went cold. “Is that a threat?”

“What? Lord no! I was just pointing out the inconsistency. Jeez.” He shook his head, like this was a big old misunderstanding. “Calm down. Maybe you're a little confused about how things went down that night, but we're family, cuz. And blood is thicker than water, Daddy always says.”

“You don't have any family. Your daddy disinherited you. Your brother denounced you. Even the KKK has turned its back on you. You are all alone now except for that pie-eyed lawyer, and he cares more about pissing off his own family than he does your mangy hide.”

“Oh, you're wrong about that. Mr. Lovett says he has to champion the cases of people like me—Southern, poor, of limited formal education and with a notorious family.” He leaned forward conspiratorially. “I am entirely grateful he stepped up too, let me tell you, considering how Daddy cut me off.”

“Considering you tried to kill him too, you're lucky Boone didn't cut you down.”

“We both know he's trying. He's still got his fingers on the buttons, especially in here. Him and Jefferson, they got reach and pull. Skinheads, Klan junkies, Nazis. Waiting on a word. You think I picked that fight what put me in this bed? Seriously?” He laughed and looked Shane's way again. “The boys in the medical unit got the betting pool up—when will old Jasper Boone finally catch a shiv? Even Shane here's got skin in that game. Ain't that right, Shane?”

Shane made a noncommittal noise, but Jasper had the look of a man who'd tossed a live grenade and was waiting for it to blow. There was something else too, something I hadn't noticed until I saw him staring at Shane—Jasper was unnerved. Most of what I'd been telling him had been old news, but something had tripped a switch. And I had an idea what it was.

“You really didn't know John was missing, did you?”

“I told you that.”

“Yeah, you did. You played it like it was nothing, but it bothered you. Why is that, Jasper? Your information supply line not as thorough as you'd hoped?”

Jasper moved closer, filling the video frame. “Come on, now, this ain't about John, or Hope, or the lawsuit. You're here because you're scared.”

“What have I got to be scared of? You? Crippled up in a hospital bed behind bars?”

He shook his head side to side, slowly. “No, not me. Whoever's still out there. Like those men who took Trey the first time. Those men who hurt him so bad, and him SWAT-trained and everything.”

“The men you sent, you mean. And they're behind bars. Like you.”

“Maybe. But they were the least of their kind. You're desperate to find out what the
real
bad guys are planning, the ones who
didn't
get caught. Desperate enough to come talk to me…even though I had nothing to do with any of it, of course.” He cocked his head, his voice soft. “Is that why Trey's not here? You think he's safe back in Atlanta? Like maybe the reach of those very bad men won't stretch all the way up to Buckhead?”

It came with a twinge first, a quiver deep in my gut, and my vision started collapsing at the edges. A panic attack. I tried to fight it down—no, no, no, not now—but I knew that wouldn't work, that resistance was not just futile, it was fuel.

Jasper saw. “That's it, isn't it? You're trying to protect Trey from the evil of this world.” He laughed, low and nasty. “That's real sweet, but what makes you think Savannah is the most dangerous place in the South? Atlanta's just as mean, maybe even meaner, especially the folks you hang out with at those reenactments. You never know what kind of criminal could be standing right in front of you up there, looking all innocent.”

There was something in the way he said it, and my memory flashed on the process server, the insolence in his eye as he'd slapped me with the lawsuit papers, the dare-me glare. I was right—he'd been one of Jasper's. And he'd been a warning.

Jasper dropped his voice in mock concern. “If I were you, cuz, I'd go check on Trey right now. I'd go as fast as I could. Because you never know what might have happened up there while you were sitting here talking to me.”

I imagined Trey's voice.
Breathe, Tai. Breathe with me. On my count. One…two…

I braced my hands on the table, gripping the wood until my knuckles were white. “I swear to God, Jasper Boone, if something happens to Trey or anyone I love, I will destroy you. I missed one chance to take you down. I won't miss a second.”

Jasper smiled, his snake eyes gleaming. The clock in the corner of the screen ticked down to zero, and the screen went black.

Chapter Twenty-eight

I didn't say a single word as I signed myself out. I collected my driver's license and pushed open the double doors, the sunshine hitting me like a shovel to the face. I walked as quickly as I could, thinking that all I had to do was get in my car and I'd be fine. But my legs were rubber, and I couldn't get the key to go into the lock. I had to use both hands to open the door, and when I finally slid behind the wheel, I was shaking so hard my teeth chattered.

I locked the doors. Then I pulled out my phone and called Trey. He answered immediately, and I almost wept in relief.

“Trey! Are you okay?”

“I…what's wrong?”

“Has anything happened? Anything weird?”

A baffled pause. “What do you mean by weird?”

“Stalkings, shootings, breaks-ins. Threats, kidnappings, car bombs.”

“Nothing like that.” Another pause. “Why? What's happened?”

I let my head fall backwards against the seat. “I don't know.”

“What does that mean?”

I closed my eyes. “It means I went to see Jasper. And yes, I know, I shouldn't have done it, but too late now, and…oh, fuck.” I fought back tears. “It was too much, way too much.”

“What was too much?”

“Talking to him. Seeing him. Remembering…”

What happened to you
, I thought,
how close I came to losing you, how much you mean, how much you matter.

“He threatened you. He suggested he had people in Atlanta, that you were in danger, and that I…I…”

Trey spoke more slowly. “Tai, listen to me. Tell me, very specifically, what you need me to do.”

“I need you here. As soon as possible. Get out of Atlanta.”

“Are you sure?”

“I've never been more sure in my life. Maybe Savannah is just as dangerous, and maybe I can't protect you here either—maybe no place is safe anymore—but I can sure as hell keep you right beside me until I figure out what to do next.”

A hesitation. “Tai?”

“Come. Now. Please?”

His voice was ragged. “Get out of the car. I'm right behind you.”

I whirled my head around. It took me ten seconds to find him, stepping out of an unfamiliar brown Toyota. He had on his workout clothes, his phone pressed to his ear. He almost took a step in my direction, but then froze in place.

I threw myself back into the sunshine and went to him. Walking was a good thing. It gave my body something to do. And with every step, I felt my head clearing, my heart beating stronger. I walked faster, not running, even though I wanted to. I wanted to bolt across the pavement at a dead gallop.

Trey started talking before I reached him. “I'm so sorry. I tried to stay away, I really did, and I thought I could do it, I knew I had to try, and I made it until yesterday afternoon, but…”

I covered his mouth with mine and wrapped my arms against him. He let me kiss him, let me hold him, his heart beating too fast against mine.

I pressed my face against his shirt. “Let's both shut up for a little while, okay?”

His arms went around me, cinching me tight. “Okay.”

***

We sat in Trey's rental, my head on his shoulder. He said nothing, asked nothing, which was as much a comfort as anything. Most importantly, he was solid and real and warm under my hand, the best tonic to Jasper's poison I could imagine.

Closer inspection revealed something terribly amiss, however. His eyes were bleary, hair less then perfectly combed. He'd missed a spot shaving, and he startled at the least noise. There was a sense of unraveling about him, and it unnerved me.

I laced my fingers with his. That was when I noticed the bruises on the knuckles of his right hand. I ran my thumb lightly over the swollen skin, and he pulled his hand from mine.

I sat up. “Trey? What happened?”

He dropped his eyes to the floorboard. “After you left on Sunday, I…didn't do very well.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning I yelled. A lot. And slammed the bathroom door. With my fist.” He took a deep breath, trickled it out. “But then I took a very long, very hot shower. And then I saw your text, and I called you, and I was better. And then on Monday morning, I went to work. I went to the meeting. I was fine. But after that, things went…not so well again.”

I got a sinking feeling. “What happened at the meeting?”

“I met with the lawyers. We went over the lawsuit. They drafted a response.”

“And?”

“And then I left work and drove here.”

He was leaving something out of this bare-bones recital, that was for sure. Regardless, he was gonna be in a world of trouble. The one thing Boss Lady had made abundantly clear was that he was supposed to stay away from Savannah.

“Does Marisa know you're here? I mean, surely she's suspicious, what with you AWOL this morning.”

“Actually, no. I mean, yes. I mean…Marisa knows I'm here. I told her I was coming. But the reason she's not expecting me at work is because she suspended me.”

I knew I was staring at him with my mouth open. I knew I should say something, something girlfriend-wise and comforting, but I was utterly shell-shocked.

“Because of the lawsuit?”

“No.”

“Because you pulled your weapon on her?”

“No.” He raised his eyes to mine for one second before dropping them again. “That's why she pulled my firearms license. She suspended me because I walked out of a client meeting despite her direct orders.”

I remembered our conversation from the previous night. “Is this what you wanted to tell me face to face? That you'd been suspended?”

“That. And…the other thing.”

“That you've been following me since, what? Early Monday afternoon?”

He kept his expression neutral. “Correct.”

“So last night, during our conversation, you were…”

“Parked in the empty lot across from your cousin's house. The one with the construction equipment.”

Excellent concealment, bulldozers and such. I didn't have to ask how he'd found me—my car had an anti-theft tracking system that he had full access to. Of course he'd promised he'd only do so with my permission, or in case of an emergency.

“So the whole time I was telling you everywhere I'd gone, you already knew.”

“Correct. Except that you didn't tell me everywhere.” He narrowed his eyes. “You left out the detention center.”

I winced. “Yeah. I didn't want to worry you.” I ran through a quick timeline of yesterday's events. “That was the trigger, wasn't it? At the meeting. You saw that my car was at the detention center and you didn't know why I was there or what was going on.”

He didn't say anything; he didn't need to. He pressed his thumb to his temple, closed his eyes. I recognized those symptoms—a headache coming on top of everything else.

“Have you slept?” I said.

“Some.”

“How much?”

He frowned. “Four hours. Or five. Four or five hours.”

“Have you eaten?”

“Yes.”

“Something besides protein bars?”

He hesitated, then shook his head. Suddenly the hornet's nest hanging high in my family tree took a back seat to this new dilemma—my rapidly decompensating boyfriend. And it was a relief, in a way, to backburner that whole mess and deal with the mess right in front of me.

I squeezed his hand. “Trey, listen to me—”

He waved me quiet. “Who's that?”

“Who's who?”

He pointed across the parking lot, and I saw what had him on red alert. Shane the PT guy stood next to my car, peering in the windows. He had his hands shoved in his pockets as he gave the backseat a thorough checking out.

“That's Jasper's physical therapist. And he appears to be casing my car.”

Trey put his hand on the door handle, preparing to launch himself like a ballistic missile. I grabbed his arm.

“Hang on a second. Look.”

Another car pulled up next to mine, a dark gray Mercedes with Fulton County plates. Shane ambled to it as the passenger side window slid down, then he leaned over to talk to whoever was sitting there. Trey kept his eye on the scene as he scrambled around in the floorboard for pen and paper. He wrote down the tag number just as Shane opened the rear door and got inside. The car sped away, hooking a sharp left past the stand of oleander trees, leaving a flurry of deadly petals in its wake.

I sat back in my seat. “Wanna bet that car belongs to Ainsworth Lovett?”

Trey pulled out his phone. “I'll let you know after I've checked the data base.”

“The one you access through Phoenix?”

“Right.”

“Will your clearance still work if you're suspended?”

He tapped and swiped and typed. Frowned. Tried again. Frowned deeper.

“Apparently not,” he said.