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“How did you know it was the devil?”
“Blood.”
“That’s very brave, Lennie. That will help us.” Will slowly opened another file folder and began arranging photos of ten different men. Some were suspects from old crimes. One was Judd Mason. Another was Gary Nagle—this had necessitated a trip to Cheryl Beth’s house to retrieve the old lover’s shot. She had been so embarrassed that she had actually turned bright red to admit she still had it. He had told her to leave the door open and come out immediately if anything seemed wrong. He hadn’t known what he would do if he couldn’t immediately shoot someone. Fortunately, the trip to her house had been uneventful, the new locks unmolested. And she had returned with a photo of Dr. Gary Nagle. Will couldn’t see her with him. He looked like a weasel. Will set Nagle’s photo alongside the other nine.
&nb
sp; Then he turned over the photo of Bud Chambers.
Lennie made a sound like an animal that had been shot, a half whimper and a half last breath.
Will said, “Just point if you saw any of these men down in the basement.”
Lennie’s finger shook violently, but it rested on Bud Chambers’ nose.
“You saw him in the basement, with the blood?”
“Yes.” A whisper.
“Did you think he was the devil?”
Lennie nodded emphatically.
“What did you see?”
“Blood….everywhere. It was a sacrifice.” He enunciated the word very clearly. “The devil needed blood. But I hid so he couldn’t see me. Lennie knows how to hide.”
The old homicide cop inside Will said, fuck me runnin’. Lennie had witnessed the murder. Getting a jury to believe Lennie was another matter, but for the moment Will had done as Bull had taught him so many years ago: had a theory, played a hunch.
“You’re going to be fine,” Will clapped him on the forearm, and let the deputy take him away.
***
Outside, Cheryl Beth finally spoke.
“That was pretty amazing, the way you did that. But as I recall that day, Lennie kept yelling that you were the devil.”
It was only when he looked at her that he saw the broad, playful smile on her face. She was beautiful.
Chapter Twenty-six
They argued briefly at the car. Will said he wanted to try to stand by the wheelchair and let himself down in the car, instead of using the transfer board. Cheryl Beth was afraid—afraid he might fall, and that she was responsible. The sharp, cold wind was whipping around the buildings and there wasn’t time to argue long. She let him try it. Before she let him stand, she cinched the gait belt tightly around his waist, locked the wheelchair in place, and grabbed the belt tightly. Her stomach tightened in anticipation as she looked down at the big man, confined to the chair. He took a breath and stood, one fluid motion. Then he pivoted slowly to the left and dropped himself down in the car seat. She pulled the wheelchair back to the trunk and stowed it.
“You’re looking way too proud of yourself, Will Borders.” She pulled out in traffic and waited for the car heater to get warm. He just smiled.
“I’m responsible for you, you know.”
“And I’m grateful. And thank you for letting me try to do that. It’s important.”
She was grateful to be out of the jail, and drove slowly past the old industrial hulks and railroad bridges that nested above the untended streets southwest of downtown. High chain link fences were topped with rusty concertina wire. Seeing Lennie again brought back the awful fight in the hospital. Watching the way Will worked intrigued her—it was like a window into a totally different world. But it didn’t make sense. It just didn’t.
“What are you thinking?” he asked, noting her silence.
“Who was that, in the picture Lennie pointed to?”
“A man named Bud Chambers. A former cop. Bad actor.”
“Chambers?”
