The Baddest Ass (Billy Lafitte #3) (10 page)

Nothing.

"Come on, I'm right here." The guard wiggles his light against the glass. He lowers his voice. "I've got his kid here, guys. Jesus. Talk to me."

Ham puts up his hand to shield his eyes from the light. Then it flicks towards the guard.

"Hey, quit it, guys. Just…what happened? Did you do it?"

The light from the other side flicks off and the guard sees who's standing there. He makes a high-pitched noise that dies halfway off his tongue.

A voice comes over his radio. Mrs. Hoeck knows it. She was just talking with him a few minutes earlier. "Your boys fucked up. Get my son out of here."

Mrs. Hoeck makes it to her feet and feels her way along the wall behind the guard for a look. Billy is slipping into a guard's shirt. Blood on his hands and chest. He's got two guns shoved into his waistband. The light barely picks up the leg of a dead man on the floor behind him.

The guard clears his throat. "That's…you killed them both. You're dead, man, you're fucking dead."

Mrs. Hoeck says, "Language."

"
Officers down, officers down
!"

Billy on the radio. "They shot first. Self defense. You get my family out of here safe. Now. Right. Fucking.
Now
."

The guard winces and says to Ham, "Come on, son, we need to get you on your way. I'm sorry you had to see this. Sorry that your father—"

"He knows what his father is." Mrs. Hoeck lays her hand on the boy's shoulder and leads him to the door, waits patiently for the guard. "We've always let him know the truth. We need to go now."

Ham looks up at his grandmother. "He really just killed those guys?"

"Hush."

"But he did!"

The guard walks facing the glass like he doesn't trust it will hold. He opens the door with a key instead of asking someone to do it remotely like all the other guards had before the lights went out. He has a little trouble with the lock, jangles it loudly, then finally clicks it back and swings the door open. He points his flashlight into the empty hall. "Okay, stay close. Don't get ahead."

They all step out of the visiting room, Mrs. Hoeck and Ham waiting as the guard swings the door shut again and works the key. Ham is sniffing. Not just the cold. He's trying hard not to break down. He's always thought of his father as a bad man, yes, but to have the evidence right there in front of him, it has to be a shock. But what else? These guards
did
have guns. They
did
shoot first. They were trying to kill Billy in front of his own son. It doesn't make any sense, and it makes her very afraid. She can't trust these guards, and she has no choice but to. She pulls Ham closer, and this time he doesn't fight her.

The guard holds the door handle tight in one hand, leaning back, while working the key again. Another
clunk
and he's satisfied. He turns and leads them down the hall, flashlight beam on the ground, scrolling past the corridor. They are halfway down when the loud buzz and clunk that usually signals the doors unlocking sounds. Like an echo, so many at once. The guard points the flashlight back where they just came from. The door to the visiting room has popped unlocked and swings a few inches open.

"Shit." The guard sucks in breath and then pushes Mrs. Hoeck in front of him. "We've got to move, move, move. Hurry." He shouts
Officers down
into his radio over and over but there's not much coming back at him. The chatter has died. Dead. Just static.

He wants to run, shoving Mrs. Hoeck in the back. She tries not to trip on Ham's feet. The flashlight picks out the turn at the end of the hallway. They head right. The door ahead is open like the last one. A few inches. The guard muscles ahead and grabs hold, swings it open into the waiting room.

No one there. Some light enters from a high and narrow window. The whole room looks as if the color has been leeched away.

The guard closes the door behind them, leans against it. "I'm so sorry. That shouldn't have happened. That was way over the line. We'll get you out of here."

From the hallway leading to the main entrance, lots of echoing voices. Mrs. Hoeck sits on one of the plastic chairs and asks, "Why were those guards trying to kill Billy?"

"It's all a misunderstanding."

"They had guns. Someone let them in with the prisoners while they were carrying guns. As soon as the lights went out, the shooting started. I don't think that's procedure. Why were they trying to kill my son-in-law?"

"Isn't he your ex-son-in-law?"

She nods towards Ham, standing there stiff, arms crossed. "His father."

"Ma'am, it was a terrible mistake, I assure you, and—" The radio sparks with a distorted voice, followed by a tight scream, then nothing but clicks. The guard speaks into the handset: "I've got officers down in visiting. Officers down. Goddamn, is anyone going to answer me? All the doors are open and we've got officers down!"

Mrs. Hoeck shouts, "Language! Have some dignity."

"You don't understand."

"I do. You've all lost control. No one's in charge." Cool as can be while she speaks, praying in her mind as if the devil himself had hold of her ankle. "I need to get my grandson out of here. That's the most important thing right now, don't you agree?"

"
Officers down!
Anyone?"

"What's your name, please?"

"What?"

"Your name. You know mine. You know Ham's. What's your name?"

"It's, um. Stan. I'm Stan."

"What's your last name, Stan?"

"Engesmoe."

"Yes, yes, that's good. Officer Engesmoe." She stands, snaps her fingers. Ham closes in. "Officer Engesmoe, will you please escort Ham and me to the exit? We have a long drive ahead of us."

He stands straight, chest-puffing up. "Yes ma'am, I can do that, ma'am." He takes a step towards the other door. "We'll have you on your way—"

Scuffling behind him, then the door slams open. Engesmoe spins. His flashlight is shaky. Three prisoners in loose orange outfits, all white, the young and short one up front shielding his eyes from the beam.

"Shit, man, cool that light."

Engesmoe keeps it where it is. "You men go on back, we've got it under control." He turns to Mrs. Hoeck. "It's okay, they're trustees. They're okay."

The short one says, "Ain't nothing okay. The lights are out and the doors are open. Fuck you, man."

Engesmoe moves his free hand to his belt. "We'll have it under control in a few minutes. Really, go on."

There's a guy there, reasonable haircut, tear-drop eyeglasses. Maybe in his thirties. He looks Mrs. Hoeck up and down. She actually feels some sort of
light
from him. Like he's one of the faith. "She's a holy roller. That's the way they dress."

The third, younger, big muscles with big blood vessels and small hands, says, "What, like Amish?"

"No, like, you know, dancing and shouting? They don't watch TV or cut their hair or wear make-up. I remember some from school."

"She's a Jesus freak?"

"Aren't you, lady? You are, am I right?"

No fear. With the Holy Ghost, there should be no fear. She believes it. The feeling in the pit of her stomach? The Devil. She will come to no harm. She will not be harmed. Neither her nor Ham.

"I asked you something." Maybe not one of the faith after all. A pretender. Another demonic trick.

"My grandson and I were just leaving."

He gets closer, sniffs. "Are you or are you not Spirit-filled?"

She lifts her chin. "I am. Are you?"

He shrugs. "When it suits me."

His friend stands behind his shoulder now, looking Mrs. Hoeck up and down. "That's somebody's grandma? She's looking good. Something about the silver streaks, that gets me going."

"Any bitch would get you going, stupid. This one's special. Didn't expect we'd get a hostage like this."

"Special my ass." He edges past the little guy. "Let's go, lady. I'm first."

She backs up, trips, falls into a chair. "In Jesus name!"

"Don't even." He reaches out a hand to help her up.

Engesmoe has his pepper spray out and is already there, stepping between the con and Mrs. Hoeck. "No! I said get back! Don't make me—"

But the con laughs and the others laugh and then he lunges like he's goofing and slaps at the can. Engesmoe sets it off and sprays all over the prisoner and Mrs. Hoeck and Ham and himself and it
burns
. They're all coughing but the con is still on his feet, raging. He grabs Engesmoe by his shoulders and rams a knee into his balls. Down, down.

The other prisoners are on him, kicking, pounding. Everyone coughs and gags, drooling, Mrs. Hoeck desperately wiping Ham's face with her coat while pushing him away from the fight, into a corner.

She wants to tell him to run, run and find the nearest guard, but if prisoners are roaming the halls and the radios aren't working, and, and…what can she do but pray? Pray and pray but she's too scared to give it her full attention and her eyes blink and burn and water. Where's her miracle? Good God, why send her here? What good was her light here? Why let Ham die or, worse, be
abused
in terrible ways by these demons in flesh? Why, Jesus, why? It's not fair.

Engesmoe's blood slicks the floor, and the prisoners are painted in the blood and the orange pepper spray. They get tired of busting up the guard, and the little one turns back to Mrs. Hoeck.

"Hey young man," he says to Ham. "Ever walked in on your grandparents doing it? They told you about sex yet?"

They laugh and Ham shrinks. Mrs. Hoeck stands between him and the prisoners. "You won't do this. You'll leave the boy be. You will. You know what happens if I say it in Jesus name, don't you?"

"What, I get even more damned? God can't damn me any more than this, right?"

His partners laugh and the beefier one says, "Only praying she'll be doing is, like, ‘Oh God, your dick is so big!'"

She tightens all over and says. "Not in front of Ham. I won't."

"You don't get a choice."

"I'll fight! I'll kick and bite and—"

"You'd better. That's the only way I get turned on any more."

He steps closer, within touching distance. He reaches over her head and begins pulling out the bobby pins holding her hair up. His arms are dripping blood. All Mrs. Hoeck can smell is blood and the con's breath. She tries to push Ham from behind her, whispers "Run, run, run!"

But the con makes a grab for Ham's arm before he can get moving. "Ma'am, you've got to stop thinking you're going to get your way."

His breath is too sweet, like bad fruit. He goes in for a kiss, still gripping Ham in one hand, grabbing her ass with the other. She turns her face left and right and left and right and nowhere to go, he presses his lips and she bites into his bottom lip
hard, make it bleed, make him scream
.

He does. Yanks back and lets go. Mrs. Hoeck tastes the blood and thinks terrible thoughts. Spits it out. But then it's all a blur and the con's fist connects. Her eye. Then another punch she doesn't see coming. Never in her life. Never. Never. She thinks of the Apostle Paul, quick quick like microseconds. Sees him beaten, jailed, bitten by a snake, thrown overboard, and she has always felt pity, and has always said
If that's what it takes to stand for Jesus
but in this moment, her eye swelling, her cheek throbbing, and this poor soul determined to rape her, she's never expected it to come to this. It has nothing to do with Jesus, and to stop the pain she realizes she will do whatever this man wants.

I'm sorry, Lord I'm so sorry. So so sorry. Save my boy. Please, save Ham, please. I have no hope, you have forsaken me, but save, oh God oh God—

The con has forced her to the floor. To her knees. Bare knees on the cold ground. He's already got her skirt up. She looks up and watches Ham running for the hallway back to the entrance, but the beefy prisoner leaps over the chairs to grab him before he can get out. Turns him back around, big smile on his face.

Then a couple of loud pops and his smile goes bloody. His nose disappears, spatters all over the wall, and he falls at Ham's feet. A guard appears in the doorway, guns in both hands. Pops off at the third guy, crouching, hands half-up. He hops when the first shot hits him. Does a little dance with the second. The guard doesn't risk a third shot. Just tromps right over and pistolwhips him. He's gone.

It's not a guard. It's Billy Lafitte in the guard's shirt, with the guards' pistols. The little guy, getting ready to mount Mrs. Hoeck, is already on his ass scooting across the floor until he hits the wall. Scrambles to get up. Saying, "Lafitte! Lafitte!' We're cool, man, I didn't do nothing! We're cool!"

Billy takes his time. Aims. Fires but misses hard left. Mrs. Hoeck flattens herself on the floor and cranes her neck to watch.

The little guy is shrieking and he scuttles low on his hands and knees, quick like a mouse. Billy slams off another two big shots right into the mouse's back and he stays put.

"Ham! Over here, now!"

The kid, his face specked with blood, runs to his grandmother first, huddles down with her while she tries to push herself up.