Riven - Jerry B. Jenkins [92]
And then Thomas Carey went a step further than he had before. He also prayed for Dirk. Thomas had no idea how serious Rav’s relationship with him was or how long it would last, being forged in ways foreign to his sensibilities. But given that Dirk Blanc might one day be his son-in-law or even the father of his grandchildren, Thomas was desperate to pray him into the fold as well.
As for the Deacon? Well, he owed it to the condemned man to at least call Russ in the morning. The hanging was set for just a few hours short of seven days away.
Addison
The laborers’ shack had a cockeyed Christmas tree with lights askew. That and the muted TV, showing some old black-and-white yuletide movie, illuminated a bottle-strewn living room full of snoring men. It was as if they had partied until they couldn’t move.
That was all right with Brady, still panting from his dash from the Laundromat. For once he could just slip upstairs unnoticed, smoke his dope in the bathroom, and crash. He kicked off his soggy shoes and socks and headed up.
A sweat-stained bandanna hung on the doorknob of the bunkroom, indicating that someone had a woman in there. Brady pressed his ear to the door. If she was still there, nothing was going on. When he finished his grass, he would just tiptoe in and go to bed.
As he emerged from the bathroom, Brady heard loud banging on the door downstairs. Whoever this was or whatever it was about couldn’t be good for him. He hurried into the bedroom and stripped down, sliding under the covers.
From downstairs he heard arguing, then shouting, then his name. That was Stevie Ray’s voice. “Just let me get him out of here,” Stevie said, then called up the stairs, “Brady! You gotta go! Now!”
Brady dressed on his way down. “Get your shoes on, man,” Stevie said. “You think the cops wouldn’t be able to tell you just got here?”
“Don’t bring no cops here!” Pepe said, coming to life on the couch. “I told you, man!”
“Cops?” Brady said.
“Just come on!”
Brady followed Stevie out to his car.
“Somebody saw you break the window, dude.”
“What?”
“Don’t start with me, Brady. I don’t need this. I came to help. Who knows you live here? Does Tatlock?”
“I don’t think so. Take me to your place.”
“You know better’n that! I got a family, not to mention I’m on parole.”
“What’s going on?”
“Somebody called the cops, said it was you. They’ve already been to your mom’s trailer.”
“Great!” Brady swore.
“What were you thinking?”
“I don’t know! I’m such an idiot! You know my ma’s gonna rat me out, tell them where I live. And Petey! Oh, man!”
“Where you wanna go? I can’t be driving you around.”
“Where do you think they’ll look?” Brady said.
“The shack, the paving company, my place.”
“You won’t say anything, will you?”
“I’ll tell ’em the truth. I’ll tell them I heard they were looking for you, so I tried to find you, knowing you wouldn’t do something like that.”
“That’s a lie.”
“So is telling them I couldn’t find you. Now where do you want to hide?”
“Agatha’s?”
“Will anybody think you’d go there?”
“Nah.”
“You’ll owe her.”
“She’s got a thing for me. It’ll be cool.”
Agatha lived on the far edge of the trailer park. Brady could see revolving police car lights bouncing off the low cloud cover through a light snow. As Stevie pulled away, Brady crept to the back of the trailer and tapped on Agatha’s tiny window. He didn’t want to scare her, so every time he tapped, he whispered her name. “It’s me, Brady!”
Finally she pulled back the curtain and raised the blind. “What do you want?”
“Just wanted to be with you on Christmas Eve, that’s all.”
“It’s nearly Christmas morning, Brady. What are you, drunk?”
“No, I just miss you.”
She squinted at him, and in the dim light he saw hope in her eyes. He wondered if there was no end to his evil.
“You wake my dad, he’ll kill you.”
“Then be quiet and let me in.”
He met her at the front door and followed her back to her room. A huge, ugly girl, she repulsed him.
“You got to be out