Joe Dillard - 02 - In Good Faith (31 page)

A fat transport deputy in a khaki uniform unlocked the cell door. The clock in the drab gray hallway said it was seven forty-five, too goddamned early to go to the courthouse.

“Why the hell are y’all takin’ me over there already?” Lester whined. “Court don’t start till nine.”

“What difference does it make to you, boy? You can sit on your ass over there as good as you can sit on your ass here.”

“I ain’t gonna get fed till suppertime,” Lester said.

“Tell it to somebody who cares.”

The guard led Lester down a short hallway. The steel door buzzed and then clanged as the bolt released. The door slid back into the wall and Lester walked through to yet another steel door twenty feet down the hall. It slid open and Lester could feel the cool morning air. A white van sat idling in the open sally port. Lester climbed into the back, conscious that another inmate was already there. Lester didn’t look at the other inmate as the guard chained his shackles to a steel ring on the floor. He wasn’t in the mood for idle conversation.

As the van bounced along towards the highway, Lester thought about his prospects. He’d been arrested for his third DUI in eighteen months after being stopped at a sobriety checkpoint a month ago. The cops also tacked on driving on suspended, second offense, violation of the seat belt law, violation of the implied consent law, and misdemeanor possession of marijuana for half a goddamned joint they found in the ashtray. His mama and daddy had refused to post his bail, and he’d been stuck in jail ever since. His lawyer, a fresh-faced punk who probably didn’t know his ass from a hole in the ground, had filed a motion claiming the roadblock violated Lester’s constitutional rights. If the lawyer was right, Lester would be home by suppertime. But if he was wrong, Lester was looking at six more months of eating cheap peanut butter and bologna.

The courthouse was less than two miles from the jail, so the ride lasted only a few minutes. Lester continued to sulk and stare at the floor as the guard unchained the other inmate. Once his own chain was unlocked and pulled through the ring, Lester climbed out. He thought he recognized the other guy as they shuffled towards the steps that led to the courthouse holding cell, but he wasn’t sure. He’d get a better look when they got upstairs.

The guard led them through the door, up the steps, and into the holding area. Lester leaned on one foot, then the other, as he waited for fat-ass to unlock the cell. The other dude shuffled into the cell ahead of Lester and plunked himself down on the concrete bench. Lester took a seat on the floor across from him. The guard slammed the cell door and walked out, leaving the two of them alone. The courthouse bailiffs were in charge of holding cell security, but they didn’t pay much attention. The last time Lester had been in the cell, a fifty-something lesbian with big teeth had talked on the phone on the other side of the counter for almost an hour. When she hung up, she disappeared until it was time for Lester to go in front of the judge.

The guy across from him was leaning over on his elbows with his face in his hands. He was wearing the standard-issue orange jail jumpsuit. He was lanky and had long black hair that Lester figured had been dyed, since the roots were a different color. Why in the hell would anybody dye their damned hair black? It made the guy look like a fucking zombie.

Wait a minute. Wait just a goddamned minute.
Could it be? Lester cleared his throat.

“S’up, dude?” Lester said.

The zombie lifted his chin. It was him. The baby killer. Lester had seen him on television a bunch of times.
What’s his name? Zombie-looking motherfucking baby killer, that’s what. Why would they leave me alone in a cell with a goddamned baby killer? I’m just a drunk.

Lester decided to play dumb, act like he didn’t recognize the dude. Maybe he’d even get the zombie to say something Lester could use later on to cut a deal and get out of jail.

“I’m fixin’ to get the hell out of here,” Lester said.

“That right?” said the zombie.

“Fuckin’-A. My lawyer says they violated my rights by settin’ up a roadblock out in the middle of nowhere.”

The zombie responded by dropping his face back into his hands.

“What’s your name, dude?” Lester said.

“What the fuck do you care?” the zombie said through his fingers.

“Shit, man, ain’t no need to get your panties all in a wad. I was just tryin’ to be friendly. Whatcha doin over here today?”

“Kicking the shit out of a baldheaded little redneck if he doesn’t shut his fucking mouth.”

“Damn, you are one hostile dude,” Lester said. He stood up and walked towards the barred window at the back of the cell that looked out over the parking lot behind the courthouse, still stinging from the remark about his bald head. He’d thought about getting one of those rugs like his uncle Roy, but they were too damned expensive. Besides, he didn’t want to put up with all the shit he’d hear from his drinking buddies.

Lester watched another van pull up and saw a stocky, black-haired boy get out of the back, wearing the same orange jumpsuit that he and the zombie were wearing. It was the other baby killer. He remembered this one’s name because Lester had a younger brother named Levi. His brother was pretty much worthless, but at least he wasn’t no baby killer.

“Looks like we’re gonna have company,” Lester said.

A couple of minutes later, Lester heard the sound of shackles rattling in the hall. The door opened and Levi came shuffling through, followed by a different transport deputy. The deputy stuck his key in the barred door and opened it. Lester had heard the news about the zombie wanting to cut some kind of deal with the DA’s office, and he knew there wasn’t but one way to cut a deal. You had to rat somebody out. This could get interesting.

The kid walked into the cell without looking at either Lester or the zombie. He sat down on the concrete bench next to the zombie and stared at the wall while the deputy locked the cell door.

“I’ll be back to pick you up at noon, Levi,” the deputy said.

What was that? A deputy who ain’t a son of a bitch?
He called the boy by his name. Lester had never heard a guard or a deputy call an inmate by name. Sometimes they’d call them
inmate
or
prisoner
, but usually it was
dickhead
or
maggot
or
shitbird
or
asshole
. Never by name. He shook his head. If the deputy was coming back to pick up Levi at noon, that meant Lester’s hearing wouldn’t be held until at least one thirty. He’d have to sit in this fucking cell and twiddle his goddamned thumbs all morning.
Why in the hell won’t they feed the inmates in the courthouse holding cells?

The clock behind the counter outside the bars said ten after eight. Lester could smell coffee brewing and could hear a couple of the bailiffs laughing beyond the door that opened onto a hallway that led to the courtroom. He put his back against the wall and slid down to sit on the floor.

“I hear you’re planning to make a deal,” a voice said. Lester looked towards the baby killers. The young one, Levi, was staring at the zombie, who still had his face in his hands. Levi’s voice was calm, his empty eyes locked onto the zombie’s head.

“You shouldn’t believe everything you hear,” the zombie said without moving.

Levi leaned towards him and hissed, “You gonna snitch on me?”

“I’m not snitching on anybody.”

“You’re a liar. And a coward.”

“Fuck you, man,” the zombie said, and he stood up and started to move towards the window. Before he could get out of range, Lester saw Levi rock back and lift his knees to his chest. His shackled feet flew forward and the zombie’s knees buckled. Lester slid into the corner and pulled his ankles beneath him as Levi leaped onto the zombie’s back and drove him face-first into the concrete floor.

A sickening
crack
as the zombie’s teeth shattered. Levi straddling him, grabbing two handfuls of hair, pulling his head backwards and smashing it into the concrete over and over. Blood flying, the zombie groaning.

Lester in the corner, frozen with fear as droplets of blood landed on his face and arms. Levi grunting and mumbling, the awful thud of the zombie’s head hitting the floor again and again and again and again. Lester watching Levi drive his knees into the zombie’s shoulder blades, wrapping the chain between his bloodied handcuffs around the zombie’s neck. The veins in Levi’s forearms bulging. The veins in his temple bulging. Levi squeezing. The zombie dying. Lester closing his eyes.

Voices, loud and excited, coming from the other side of the bars. The sound of metal against metal as someone scrambled to unlock the cell door. Cursing. More grunting. The sound of boots scraping. Lester opening his eyes. Levi being dragged from the zombie’s prone body. A pool of dark blood spreading out, coming nearer. A deputy kneeling over the zombie’s body.

Lester screaming.

A bailiff came into the office at eight twenty and said there was a problem in the holding area. I asked Alisha to stay where she was and hurried down the steps with Fraley right behind me. Another bailiff buzzed me through the barred steel door. Levi Barnett was sitting on a metal chair to my right with his head hanging and a bailiff looming over him. I noticed blood on his hands as I passed by. A short, baldheaded inmate was being led out the door. I wasn’t sure, but it sounded like he was crying. When I got to the holding cell, I froze. Lying facedown in a huge pool of dark blood was Sam Boyer. He wasn’t moving, didn’t seem to be breathing.

A bailiff was standing next to Barnett. Everyone else had disappeared, like rats scurrying from a sinking ship.

“Is he dead?” I said to the bailiff.

“ ’Fraid so.”

“You put them in the same cell?”

“We ain’t got but one holding cell,” the bailiff said. “But it wasn’t me that done it. The transport officers was the ones what brought them in and put them in the cell.”

“This is unbelievable,” I said. “Wasn’t anyone in here watching them? Aren’t you supposed to keep an eye on them?”

“They was alone for just a few minutes.”

I walked over and stood in front of Barnett. Anger pulsed through me like a radio signal. I wanted to strangle him. My chances of getting enough evidence to convict Natasha were dead, along with Boyer.

“You sick son of a bitch,” I said. “Doesn’t matter what happens in the other cases now; you’re going to prison for the rest of your miserable life.”

Barnett lifted his head and looked at me with dull, colorless eyes.

“I ain’t going to no prison,” he said. “I’m going to hell with you.”

Judge Glass sent word that the hearing would be postponed for two weeks, so I gave Alisha a ride back to Johnson City. The brilliant light in her blue eye seemed to have dulled. She remained quiet for the first ten minutes of the trip.

“Does this mean you won’t be able to arrest Natasha?” she said as we rounded a curve near the old Burlington Industries plant.

“I’m afraid so,” I said. “I think Boyer was willing to testify against her. Without him, all we have is circumstantial evidence. It isn’t enough to arrest her, let alone convict her.”

“You need to be careful,” she said. “You know what she’s capable of.”

Images of Natasha plunging an ice pick into Mrs. Brockwell’s back and into Alisha’s eye ran through my mind.

“Alisha, would you have any idea where the ice pick might be?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m sorry. I don’t know where it is.”

I gave her my home and cell phone numbers when I dropped her off at the convenience store and told her to call me anytime, day or night.

“Stay safe,” I said as she stepped out of the truck.

She turned and gave me a mournful look.

“What’s wrong? Do you want me to see if I can arrange police protection for you?”

“No. It’s not me I’m worried about. You’re a good man, Mr. Dillard. I just hope I see you again.”

Monday, November 10

Levi Barnett pondered his bloody hands as he rode silently in the back of the transport van towards the juvenile detention center. He was looking at the blood of a traitor, the blood of a coward. Sam Boyer wouldn’t be making the trip to the other side. He’d sold himself out to the laws of man, and Levi had made him pay the price.

The pathetic cops had forced him to sit there for almost three hours while they took their photographs and their blood samples. The big cop who’d arrested Levi at the motel and then tried to interrogate him had shown up and scraped some of the blood off of Levi’s hands. He’d tried again to interrogate Levi, but Levi told him to go fuck himself.

Levi spit on the floor as he thought of the scrawny little baldheaded dude sitting in the corner of the cell. Didn’t offer to help Sam, didn’t say a word, didn’t make a move. All he did was watch and scream like a little girl.

He knew Natasha would be pleased. She’d come to visit him at the juvenile detention center three days earlier. The guards there were so fucking stupid. All Levi had to do was put her on his visitors list. When she arrived, they led Levi to a visiting room and left the two of them alone for an hour. Levi knew the guards were watching on video, but they couldn’t hear a thing. Natasha had laid out her plan, and Levi had executed the first step to perfection. All that was left was for him to complete the second step, and Natasha would take care of the third.

Levi lifted his hands over his head and stretched. Even though he’d just committed a murder, the transport deputy hadn’t cuffed him in back or put a waist chain on him. The policy at the juvenile detention center was that all prisoners going to court were to be cuffed in front. Another deputy was along for the ride as extra security, but as long as Levi’s hands were in front of him, he could do what he needed to do.

The van pulled up in front of the detention center, and Levi looked out at the dull-yellow concrete-block building. It was a single story, with four-inch openings for windows and an exercise area that was surrounded by chain link and concertina wire and just a little bigger than his cell. What little food Levi had eaten tasted like plastic, and the guards, like the other inmates, were all morons. None of them were armed, and Levi mused briefly about what it would be like to walk in with a weapon and slaughter every last one of them.