Page 127 of The Devil's Advocate

‘I’m not leaving you,’ said Kate.

She heard something in the alley. Footsteps. Someone coming up on them in the dark. Fast.

She took Patricia by the shoulders, gently, and they eased back from the fence. Maybe it was one of the White Camelias, come to make sure no one got out of the hotel alive.

As the figure got closer, Kate took a great shuddering breath, and let it out with tears of her own.

Andy held a long, thick steel pipe on his shoulder. He dropped it to the ground. Wedged it under the fence door, and pushed. The door held, and Andy began to pump the steel bar up, using his legs and back, the bar resting on his shoulder, the other end wedged low beneath the door.

The aluminum bars that formed the door squealed and bent. Rust flaked from the hinges.

Andy began roaring with the effort, pumping his legs, trying to get the bar higher each time.

But the door wouldn’t give.

CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT

HARRY

Harry closed his eyes, listened to Francis Edwards cry out. It sounded like something Harry had heard before. Humans can make a sound that comes from deep inside. It’s part of them. Harry thought it might come from the soul. It’s the sound of a parent who has lost a child. There’s anguish and pain and something else in there. Something so profound it doesn’t need to be explained.

Francis let his head drift forward onto the wheel, and wept. His shoulders pumping the tears and the sobs out of him.

‘Now you know the truth,’ said Harry, putting away his phone. He’d shown Francis the pictures of the paint flakes on the rope, showing that Esther was strangled and then hauled up into the air.

‘They were starting a war. What they did to Skylar’s body, it’s significant for them. They place great importance on symbols and flags because it means they don’t have to think about a real ideology. Makes it easier to hate if you’re all wearing the same uniform and walking under the same banner. They tried to blow up some churches around here, but it failed. And then they got smart. Killing innocent people won’t further their cause. What they wanted was legitimacy. For people to rally to them. The trucks coming out of your plant are ready-made catastrophes. All it took was someone willing to die. Gruber would’ve taught Skylar, so that was their way in – with you. He could reach out after she died, help you and your family. And then poison you and take away every reason you had to live.’

‘They did that, alright. I bought all of their bullshit. Jesus, my poor girls.’

‘The laptop and the plans made you look like their enemy. You were a crazed, commie leftist and they would’ve used you as their reason to recruit every idiot in this town. They’ve already printed their flyers for a march.’

The sobs slowed, Francis wiped his face with one hand, the other still clutching the phone. He leaned back in his seat and caught his breath.

‘You ready for that drink now?’ asked Harry.

He blew air out of his cheeks, wiped his face again, then leaned forward and picked up the glass.

‘Did you put something in this? Something to knock me out?’ asked Francis.

‘I don’t need to. You drink enough of this it’ll put you on your back all on its own.’

Francis threw back the liquor, shook his head, and gasped.

‘You’re not a drinker,’ said Harry. ‘I can teach you.’

‘No, thanks,’ said Francis. And there, somewhere on his face, was the look of a man completely defeated by life, by loss, by anger.

‘Thank you,’ said Francis. ‘Thank you for telling me.’

Harry watched Francis’s chest beginning to move again, rapidly, in and out. The panic building.

‘I know something too,’ he said. ‘I don’t much care what they say about me after. I can’t live like this anymore. I don’t want to. So do me a favor and get out of the truck. I’ll give you five minutes to get clear.’

Harry reached out a hand, slowly, put it on Francis’s thick shoulder.

‘You don’t want to do this,’ said Harry.

Francis shook his head. ‘No, I do. I need to.’