The in Death Collection Books 11-15 - J. D. Robb [420]
He submitted coolly to the cursory pat-down, to having the contents of his briefcase x-rayed once again. And when he was shown into a consultation room, he sat, folded his hands, and waited for his client.
Seeing Kevin escorted in wearing a baggy fluorescent orange jumpsuit, put a nice, chilly scrim over Lucias’s bubble of rage. His friend’s face appeared gray and drawn above the hideous prison clothes. But he looked momentarily hopeful when he spotted Lucias.
“Mr. Blackburn, I wasn’t expecting you to come back tonight. You said you were arranging for me to go into Testing tomorrow, to show my emotional and mental dependence. Is there something new, something better?”
“We’ll discuss it.” When Kevin sat, Lucias waved the guard away with an absent gesture and opened the briefcase. The door closed with a satisfying snick. “How are you feeling?”
“Terrible.” He linked and unlinked his fingers. “I’m in a cell alone. Lieutenant Dallas, she kept her word on that. But it’s dark, and it—it smells. And there’s no privacy, none at all. I really don’t think I can go to prison, Mr. Blackburn. It just isn’t possible. There must be a way to arrange Testing so that it comes out in my favor. I could spend some time in a private rehabilitation facility, or—or accept at-home incarceration. But I can’t possibly go to prison.”
“We’ll just have to find a way to avoid that.”
“Really?” Relieved, Kevin leaned forward. “But before you said . . . well, it doesn’t matter. Thank you. Thank you. I feel so much better knowing you’ll make some arrangements.”
“I’ll need more money. To smooth the path.”
“Anything. Anything you need.” Kevin buried his face in his hands. “I can’t stay in this place. I don’t know how I’ll make it through even one night.”
“You need to stay calm. Let me get you some water.” He rose, crossed over to the water cooler in the corner. And as he filled a cup, added the contents of the vial he wore on a chain under his shirt.
“Your confession,” Lucias added as he brought the cup back, “clearly states that Lucias Dunwood was to blame. It was his game, and one he was winning.”
“I feel terrible about that. What else could I do? The things Dallas said would happen to me.” He gulped at the water. “And it’s not my fault. Anyone can see it’s not my fault. I’d never have gone so far without Lucias egging me on.”
“He’s smarter than you. Stronger.”
“No. No, he’s not. He’s just . . . Lucias. He’s competitive. Inventive. I can’t help it if it came down to him or me. Anyway . . .” Kevin worked up a weak smile. “I guess, at this point, I won the game.”
“Do you think so? You couldn’t be more wrong.”
“I don’t know what you . . .” His vision swam, went gray at the edges. “I don’t feel very well.”
“You’ll pass out first,” Lucias said softly. “Just slide under. You’ll be dead before they get you to the infirmary. You should’ve been loyal, Kev.”
“Lucias?” Panicked, he tried to rise, but his legs buckled. “Help me. Somebody help me.”
“It’s much too late.” Lucias got to his feet, slid the chain from around his neck and looped it around Kevin’s. Tucked it neatly under the jumpsuit.
“You can’t mean to do this.” Kevin gripped Lucias’s arm weakly. “Lucias, you can’t mean to kill me.”
“I have killed you. But painlessly, Kev, for old times’ sake. They’ll think self-termination at first. It’ll take them a while to figure out your visitor wasn’t Blackburn. And since I’m at home with Mother, it couldn’t have been me. One consolation,” he added as Kevin crumbled to the floor, “you won’t go to prison.”
He reached over, closed the briefcase, brushed at his suit jacket. “Our game’s over,” he mumbled. “I win.” He hit the panic button under the table, then crouched down, began tapping Kevin’s cheeks with his hand.
“He passed out,” he told the guard. “Went into a rant about not being able to stand the thought of prison, then collapsed. He needs medical attention.”
And while his dying friend was being carried to medical,