Page 75 of The Devil's Advocate

‘Say, Ryan, do you mind if I get that coffee to go?’

‘No problem,’ said Ryan, grabbing a go-cup from the shelf above the coffee machine. He picked up Harry’s coffee, carefully poured it into the cup.

As he did so, Kate angled her phone at Ryan, and snapped a few shots. He gave the cup to Harry and apologized that they had run out of lids. Harry settled the tab, and they got up to leave the bar.

‘Thank you for your help,’ said Kate, as earnestly as possible.

For the first time since meeting him, Ryan Hogg eyed Kate suspiciously.

Kate said nothing to Harry as they left. Not a word in the parking lot. They didn’t speak until they got into the car.

Kate thought she might know why Ryan was lying.

‘Did you get the shot?’ asked Harry.

She flicked through her phone, found one of the pictures she’d just taken and spread her thumb and forefinger across the screen to enlarge a section. It was a picture of Ryan Hogg as he poured Harry’s coffee into the go-cup. On his right hand sat a large gold ring.

With a five-pointed star in the center.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

LOMAX

The last of the mourners put their empty plates in the sink, told Lomax again how sorry they were and then left. The funeral was going to be in two days’ time. He had another forty-eight hours of this shit to go through. He didn’t want another cake in the house, he didn’t want to make more coffee or see or speak to anyone else for a long time.

The people who came to pay their respects were friends of Lucy’s – neighbors, townsfolk, shopkeepers, nurses, the usual. It had been a long illness, but her passing was so sudden in the end that people were quite unprepared for it. She had fought the disease and had never let it take her dignity or her strength. Perhaps for that reason it was still a surprise for some.

Lomax left the dirty plates, glasses and mugs where they lay, went upstairs, and thought Lucy would have ragged on his ass for not clearing up. He couldn’t face it now. He just wanted to lay down. In the bedroom, he toed his boots off, lay down on Lucy’s side of the bed. Inhaling, he caught the scent of her perfume. It was still on the sheets. For a while, he cried, and then slept. When he woke, he looked at the clock on the nightstand and saw it was past five in the evening. He was hungry, but he didn’t want to eat.

Rolling over, he examined the figurine of a policeman standing at a lamp pole. It had been Lucy’s, given to her by a friend when Lomax got elected sheriff for the first time. It was twenty-five years’ old, that porcelain figurine. Lucy stared at it, every night, and the figure, in its way, stared back at her.

Lomax had strayed from the light. Korn had drawn him into the dark. He pulled open the drawer on Lucy’s nightstand, hoping to find her perfume. This was Lucy’s private space. He never normally went near her drawers or her closet. She liked her things just so and this was off limits to Lomax. He had his own closet, after all. He looked inside the nightstand drawer and saw the bottle of perfume.

Beside the bottle of French perfume was a white envelope. Letter sized. He sat up, drew it out and read the name, written on the envelope in that familiar hand.

For Colt. For after.

He turned the envelope over, and carefully prized it open. He didn’t want to tear it. Lucy’s writing was on the other side, and she had written his name, and that was precious. Something to cherish.

Inside was a handwritten letter.

Dear Colt,

My love, I know you won’t find this until after I’m gone. Please don’t feel so bad. I have loved you all my life. I love you still. Make sure to eat. I know how you get.

I love how you’ve taken care of me during this illness. How you’ve rubbed my feet, bathed me, washed my hair, even crushed up my pills and put them in yoghurt when I couldn’t swallow them. You can be so thoughtful.

I love the house you made for us. It has been a special joy to me these last few years. And don’t think I am ignorant of the cost. You’ve been carrying a weight around your neck. I’ve seen it. It started not long after Randal Korn came into our lives, and there’s not a day goes by I don’t regret you ever clapping eyes on that man. He’s rotten inside. And he’s trying to make you just like him.

You are not like Randal Korn. You’re a good man. I know it. I knowed it the day I married you. Something has beaten it down. But that good is still in you, Colt Lomax. I see it when you put on my slippers for me, when you help me to the bathroom, when you make cocoa late at night.

He’s made you do bad things. Things you wouldn’t a done before. This life is so short, and so sweet. I couldn’t talk to you about this before. You know I couldn’t. I tried, but you wouldn’t listen. Whatever you have done has hurt you, deep down. And I don’t want you hurtin’ no more.

Do some good every day. Like you used to. You’ve got your lucky rabbit’s foot. Nothing bad is going to happen to you when you’ve got it on your keys. It will keep you safe. But don’t delay, my love, cut this man out of your life for good.

For me.

Please.