The Final Rule (6 page)

Ellis nodded.

“You’re making a mistake,” George said.

“I might be.” Ellis nodded again. “But I need to find out for myself.”

Hall County Prison loomed over a good chunk of land, but it was nothing like the image Ellis had painted inside his head; a black stoned structure twenty stories high with turrets on every corner. In reality, it was a simple concrete building surrounded by chain link fencing topped with razor wire.

Ellis kept one hand in the pocket where he carried the drawing and the other over Jon’s. From shoulder to knee their bodies touched, leaving the rest of the backseat empty.

Jon remained silent, but the worry in his expression created tension around his eyes. George continued to throw pleading glances at Ellis from the rearview mirror.

At the security gate, George turned in his seat. “One last time. Are you sure?”

“We’re already here.”

“And I’d be more than happy to drive you back. I don’t want you to do this, Ellis.”

But Ellis had to. “I know.”

The guards checked George’s ID, then he and Jon turned over their guns.

George found a parking spot near the front. The cooling engine ticked off the seconds and a mist coated the windshield in fine dots.

Jon squeezed Ellis’s hand.

“You ready?” Jon said.

How could anyone be ready to face a man who tried to kill the people he loved?

“Sure.” Ellis followed Jon out of the car.

Inside they were issued visitor badges while a corrections officer waited to escort them into the holding area.

“We set you up in a private room.” The officer stopped at a heavy metal door with a small square window close to the top. “One of the officers has gone to get the prisoner but Russell’s lawyer is already here.” The man said it with all the air of talking about dirty laundry. It wasn’t that Russell didn’t deserve it, yet it saddened Ellis to know how easy it was for someone to be dehumanized.

George paused with his hand on the doorknob. Ellis had already come to know the look in the man’s eyes. He nodded once and they went in.

The small room was painted some alien shade of tan that, under the right light, could probably pass for green. A long metal table, encircled by several chairs, sat in the middle.

The man in a suit stepped forward. He extended his hand to Jon. “I’m Russell’s attorney, Paul Norris. I know who he is.” He tipped his head at George. “Who are you?”

“Jon Foster.”

All of Norris’s attention fell on Ellis.” You must be Mr. Harper.”

“Just Ellis.”

He enveloped Ellis’s hand with both of his. “I can’t tell you how much my client appreciates you coming out here.” He flashed a plastic smile. “Please. Sit.” George led Ellis with a light touch on the shoulder to the other side of the table.

“Just make this quick.” George pulled out a chair. “Ellis has better things to do than be here.”

“Of course.” Norris returned to his seat.

Ellis sat beside George and Jon stood at his back, towering over everyone like some stone golem.

Norris folded his hands on the table. To Ellis he said, “Has Sheriff Marsh explained to you why my client has requested your presence?”

“Some.”

“Mr. Russell seems to believe his life is in danger and you’re the only one who can help him.”

“Why would he think that?”

“To be honest, Mr. Russell hasn’t been forthcoming. The most I could get out of him is ‘It’s afraid of the light.’”

Ellis’s heart jumped. Jon stepped closer.

Norris’s cultured expression cracked. “Um, yes.” He fiddled with his tie. “I don’t suppose you know what he means by that?”

“No.”

The door opened.

Two corrections officers walked in with a shadow of a man stooped between them.

Russell’s mottled scalp gleamed under wisps of dark hair. The hollow dip in his cheeks accentuated the sharp line of his jaw. Eyes that had once scared Ellis were now sunken and dull.

The color drained out of George’s face and Jon cursed.

Chains around Russle’s ankles clinked with every shuffling step he took toward the table.

He put a trembling hand on the edge. His knuckles were white orbs under sallow skin. A grimace twisted up his features as he lowered himself into the chair.

Norris said, “Do you think you could remove the chains?”

The
thunk
of the metal door shutting behind the corrections officer was his only reply.

Norris gripped Russell’s arm. His smile faltered and he quickly pulled away. “How are you?”

He shot his lawyer a disgusted look. “How do you think I am, Paul?” Russell pulled at the chains and his shriveled muscles bunched into thin lines. He looked at Ellis. “You have every reason in the world to hate me, and I can’t blame you. But I need your help. This thing is eating me alive.” The milky coating over his right eye shifted. “Please, Ellis, you have to believe me when I tell you, I couldn’t stop myself from doing what I did.”

“Oh, please,” George said. “You knew damn well you could have. You disgust me and you’re a disgrace to the badge.”

“I am.” A tear slid down Russell’s cheek. “And if I could go back…” His bottom lip trembled. “If I could go back, I would never go into the Grove and I would have never…oh God, forgive me.” He rested his forehead on his fists. Russell’s boney shoulders jerked hard enough to rattle the chains and he inhaled a watery breath. “You have to understand. It gets inside you. It makes you do these things. The suffering of others feeds it. And it’s so hungry, always hungry. Now that I’m locked up and can’t give it what it wants, it’s killing me. You could never understand what it’s like. What it does.”

“That’s enough of this bullshit.” George stood so fast his chair fell back.

“Then I need you make me understand,” Ellis said.

Russell wiped his nose on the sleeve of his jumpsuit. “It lives in the ground.”

“Where?”

“The Grove.”

“Ellis, are you seriously going to listen to this whack job?” George pointed.

“Let’s hear him out,” Jon said.

George jerked his chair off the ground and slammed it in an upright position. He sat, keeping his arms folded over his chest.

“What is it?” Ellis said.

Russell wiped his eyes. “I don’t know. I don’t think anyone does. But it’s been there for a long time. I just want it out of me. I can hear it, you know. I can hear the things it says.” He leaned forward. “That’s how I know it’s afraid of you. For some reason it couldn’t see you until a week ago.”

“Why not?”

“Something hid you. But now it’s gone and it’s afraid.”

Ellis touched his pocket. The piece of paper crinkled under the fabric. “Why is it afraid of me?”

“Because you can kill it.”

“Are you done yet?” George gripped the edge of the table.

“And how would I do that?” Ellis said.

“I’m not sure.” Russell sobbed. “I’m sorry, but I just don’t know.”

His pleading gaze pulled at Ellis. He should hate the man sitting in front of him, but all he could do was pity him. Russell suffered. Why or how, Ellis had no idea, but the man was sick.

Diseased.

Ellis reached across the table and put his hand on one of Russell’s clenched fists. His fingers opened and Ellis held it like he would a friend, not a person who tried to kill the man he loved. “If there’s anything I can do to help you I will. I promise.”

“Thank you. Oh God, thank you.” He grinned, showing the spaces left behind by missing teeth. “I knew you would. I knew, if I could just get you in here, you would. I was so scared I’d end up like Louis and that I—” Russell dropped his gaze to where Ellis held him. His eyes widened and the veins in his neck darkened. He jerked away and promptly vomited a thick black slush onto his lawyer’s white button down. Norris threw himself out of his chair.

The smell of putrid sulfur and rot filled the room.

George made a strangled call for the corrections officers and Jon yanked Ellis away from the table. The guards rushed in only to pull back gagging.

Russell fell out of his chair. The next heave constricted his entire body.

Fluid seeped from his nose and ears. His eyes bulged and a high-pitched cry gurgled from his throat. He held out a hand to Ellis.

He took a step and Jon pulled him back.

Russell expelled spongy chunks along with more of the oily substance. He sat back on his knees and tears made a clean path through the black on his cheeks. The agonizing whistle of air being squeezed from his throat fell into a wheezing laugh. “Thank you.” Russell fell on his side, scissoring his arms and legs. “Oh God, thank you, you—” He opened and closed his mouth

After a few second Russell quit moving.

Then he quit breathing.

Even after five cups of coffee, Jon still had the smell of rotten eggs in his nose.

Norris stood in the corner of the office wearing a t-shirt and some uncomfortable looking slacks, courtesy of the prison property room.

The color had yet to return to the lawyer’s face, and when offered coffee, he’d covered his mouth and shook his head.

“How much longer do you think it’s going to take?” The vinyl seat of Ellis’s chair squeaked when he moved.

“I don’t know.” Jon shifted his weight, trying to ease the dull throb in his hip. “Hopefully not long.”

“Do you think it’s contagious?” It was the first thing Norris had said since he’d come back after being hosed off and wearing the borrowed clothes.

“What?”

“Whatever it was Russell has…I mean had.”

The question had already wandered through Jon’s mind but something deep down told him this wasn’t an illness caused by a virus or bacteria.

“I doubt it.”

“But how do we know? What if we already have it? What if—”

“Mr. Norris, do me a favor and go back to being a wallflower.” He rubbed Ellis’s back. “Do you want another soda?”

“I’m fine.” He chewed his thumbnail.

Jon made him stop. “How are you doing?”

“Okay. I think.”

He cupped Ellis’s cheek. His eyes slid closed and he leaned into Jon’s touch.

Norris stared at them. The man could fucking deal with it. Jon kissed Ellis on the temple.

He tossed a look at Norris. This time Jon kissed Ellis on the mouth. His cheeks reddened.

Norris turned away.

“You sure you’re all right?”

Ellis squeezed Jon’s hand. “I don’t understand what happened in there.”

In his fifteen years in law enforcement, Jon had seen a lot of things, but nothing came close to what had happened with Russell. “If I had any idea I would tell you.”

The door opened and George jerked his head toward the hall. “Jon, Ellis, c’mon, we can go.”

Norris shuffled his feet. “Wait. What about me?”

George shrugged. “I guess you better talk to the warden. Maybe with any luck, he won’t have the local PD put you in holding.” Jon and Ellis followed George out.

When the door shut, Ellis said, “They won’t really put him in a holding cell, will they?”

“Naw. I just wanted to make him sweat.”

“You sure you’re not trying to give him a nervous breakdown?” Jon said.

“No big loss if he does. As far as I’m concerned, that worm should be in chains for that little stunt.”

Jon jabbed his thumb over his shoulder. “You think they planned that?”

George looked away.

“C’mon, George. No one in their right mind would do something that would…do that.”

“Never underestimate a desperate man.”

“So what? Russell set this up to kill himself in front of us? That doesn’t even make sense.”

“I’m not saying he meant to die. But yeah, I think he wanted to scare Ellis into believing that some boogie man is in control.” George nodded at the door. “Now, whether the lawyer actually knew what Russell had planned is another thing.”

They stopped at the check in desk, handed over their guest badges and signed out.

“George, something happened in there and it wasn’t self inflicted.”

“We’ll see. They’re going to do an autopsy. If they find out that slime ball lawyer slipped Russell something, he’ll be getting real up close and personal with his former clients.”

George opened the door.

Jon shielded his eyes from the gray light of the overcast sky. As they walked to the car a gust of wind shoved the cold right through his coat.

Ellis got in and Jon paused with his arm on the roof of the sedan. “What if his toxicology comes back normal?”

George jerked open the door. “Then they can run the test again.”

“And after that one comes back with the same results, then what?”

George jabbed a finger at Jon. “Do not make this into something it’s not. So help me, Jon Foster, if you put Ellis through any more shit, I will geld you like one of my colts.”

“I promise you, hurting Ellis is the last thing I want to do.”

“If you mean that, then drop your bullshit and get in.”

“Fine. I’ll drop it. You’ll never hear me saying anything on the subject again.”

“About damn time.”

“There’s just one condition.”

George glared at Jon. “And what’s that?”

“If the toxicology comes back clean, then we all take a trip to the Grove.”

“Son, you’re really trying my patience.”

“I realize that, sir, and I appreciate your leniency. But so far, the Grove seems to be the connecting point to everything that’s happened.” Jon gave a one shoulder shrug. “Wouldn’t hurt to cover all our bases.”

“If it will shut you up, you have a deal.”

Jon held out his hand. “Shake on it?”

George made an ugly sound. “Don’t test me, son.” He got in the car and so did Jon.

The decision about which hotel to stay at was squashed by Mrs. Marsh’s announcement that Jon and Ellis were staying in the guest room at their house.

George dropped them off to get the car and made Jon promise to be at his house by six.

“I don’t think he trusts me,” Jon said.

Ellis sat down in the passenger seat. “Why? Because of what happened today?”

“That and everything else.” The car sputtered in the cold. Jon gave it some gas.

“I think it’s all just getting to him.”