Page 129 of The Devil's Advocate

‘Francis, come back inside. Please,’ said Harry.

Francis shook his head.

‘Who did this to you? Who got you into all this?’ asked Harry, desperate to keep him talking.

Francis clutched at his chest. He took one step to the side.

‘He called himself the Pastor—’ said Francis, but if he managed any more words, they were drowned out.

Harry covered his ears with his palms, turned away. He couldn’t look. The tension in the boiling air was suddenly cut with gunfire. Even with his eyes closed, Harry couldn’t escape what was happening around him. His mind put images to the sounds. He saw the bullet holes sprouting blood roses on Francis’s chest and face. When the shooting stopped, Harry was still covering his ears so that he didn’t hear his own scream.

Then the door to his cab opened and Harry had no choice but to look. Berlin pulled him out of the truck and Bloch immediately grabbed Harry, took him in her arms and held him close and tight.

‘Whoa, I’m alright,’ said Harry.

Eddie hung up the phone, and within a minute Kate came running out of The Chanterelle’s front door, and into another of Bloch’s hugs. Kate’s eyes blazed open in surprise, and she put her arms around her friend.

Eddie came back around the semi, walked up to Harry and punched him on the arm.

‘What was that for?’ asked Harry.

‘For almost getting yourself killed. Don’t ever put yourself in a situation where you can get killed. That’smyjob.’

They looked at each other for a time, as the relief ebbed into sorrow.

‘He walked into those guns deliberately,’ said Harry. ‘He’s a victim too.’

Eddie nodded, but didn’t say anything. Not at first. He looked past Harry, at Berlin who was huddled in whispered conversation with the man who had driven the SUV – Anderson. Whatever they were discussing, Harry didn’t want to know. Berlin was a dangerous man. By the look of him, Anderson was too. Harry looked down at his left hand. It was shaking, and right then he only wanted it to stop.

‘Tell Berlin we need to talk,’ said Harry. ‘Kate and Bloch too. I asked Francis who put him up to this. It wasn’t just Gruber. He said a name. I think it’s a nickname for the leader of the White Camelia. They pretended to have a Christian foundation, and there would be sermons at their meetings. He called himthe Pastor. He didn’t get to tell me his real name. We’ve got to find this man. I’ve got a Colt in my jacket that I’m itching to use.’

CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE

TAYLOR AVERY

Taylor Avery couldn’t sleep.

He sat on his porch, tea in his hand, the sounds of the Alabama night all around him. It was past midnight now and he felt tired. His copy ofTo Kill A Mockingbirdhad fallen from his grip half an hour ago as he dozed, and the yellowed pages called to him from the boards of his porch.

Where before there had been solace in that book, he could find none now. It was no longer a tale of people he didn’t know, and a place that was strange. It was here and now. And he was one of the jurors. He knew what he should do. The evidence in the case against the Dubois kid smelled like horseshit. And he knew what that smelled like. You didn’t need to be a lawyer to catch a whiff, farmers could smell it just as easily.

He heard the rumble of the engine long before he saw the car. The lights swept over the siding of the farmhouse as the car turned and stopped. The engine died, the door opened and closed.

He didn’t hear Korn’s footsteps. The man moved like he was part of the darkness. He stepped up onto the porch, papers in his long, thin fingers.

‘Evening,’ said Korn.

Taylor nodded, but didn’t get up to shake Korn’s hand.

Korn held out the papers. Taylor took them, and for a second, his fingers brushed with Korn’s, and he felt the coldness of the man’s touch.

‘This is an application for compulsory land purchase. It includes the farm,’ said Korn.

Taylor flicked through the pages. A company called Maxx Development wanted a thousand acres. They were offering half of what the land was worth.

The last page had a space for a signature.

‘Maxx Developments want your farm, Mr. Avery. I will see to it that they don’t get it.’