The Inner Circle - Brad Meltzer [140]
“I drove it on the grounds. They’re not going to link it to me?”
“They said not to worry about that either.”
“So that’s it? The Culper Ring just waves their hands and magically takes care of it all?”
“It’s not magic, Beecher. It’s loyalty. Loyalty and efficiency. They’ll get there well before the cops, and then… well… think of what you’re seeing with Wallace and Palmiotti. Especially in this town, never underestimate the power of loyalty.”
“I’m not. That’s why, when everything settles…” I take a breath and think again about that guy from Hiroshima. “I want to be introduced.”
“What’re you talking about?”
“To them. To the Culper Ring. When this is all done, I want in.”
“Beecher, I know you’ve got a lot of adrenaline flowing…”
“This isn’t adrenaline. And don’t think it’s some silly revenge fantasy either. I know what Clementine did to me. I know I let her do it. But when I was in that car at St. Elizabeths—when I thought the barber was about to take that knife and slit my throat—I kept waiting for my life to flash in front of my eyes… or for some hypersensitivity, or slow motion, or whatever the other clichés are, to kick in. But instead, all I could think was that it felt… right. Does that make sense?”
“It doesn’t make any sense at all.”
“I don’t mean right that I was about to be murdered. I mean right that, when I was in that spot… when I was in that danger… I felt like I was shaken awake. After Iris… after everything she made me feel… I made a decision and went to sleep. Do you know what that’s like—trying to go to sleep, and lose yourself in the hopes of burying the worst fears in your life? It was the one thing Clementine didn’t lie about: I wasn’t in love with the past. I was terrified of my own future—and then when Clementine came along, I thought she was my second chance. But she’s not. This is. I want my second chance. It’s like my life finally makes sense.”
“That’s still the adrenaline speaking.”
“It’s not adrenaline. It’s what we’re here for, Dallas. It’s what I thought I was here for, but instead… Do you know how many years I’ve spent staring into old books and thinking I was touching history? But that’s not where history is.” I look at the rearview and lean to the side until I again see myself. All this time, I thought Clementine was the one reviving me. But when your world feels dead, there’s only one person who can bring you back to life.
“I can do this, Dallas.”
“I’m sure you can. You can do lots of things. But this isn’t what you’re meant for.”
“You’re not listening to me,” I say, giving him a good long stare. “Look at my life. I’m tired of doing what I’m meant for.”
From the driver’s seat, Dallas peers my way, using his top teeth to chew the few beard hairs below his bottom lip.
“I can do it,” I insist. “I’m ready.”
He doesn’t say a word.
And then, as we race for the caves… and for the proof… and for the records that will end this mess, he finally does.
“Y’know what, Beecher? I think you’re right.”
* * *
99
Carla Lee knew it was going to be a bad day. She knew it when her two-year-old son woke up at 5:40 in the morning all excited to play. She knew it when the little yellow tub of margarine for her morning English muffin was completely empty, even though her husband had put it back in the fridge. And she knew it when she was racing back from her 3 p.m. meetings and saw the dead animal on Franklin Road.
She’d seen dead animals before on the highway. In these parts of western Pennsylvania, there were always deer and foxes and loads of unlucky possums. Carla had even stopped for a few (she was a dog owner—she couldn’t just ride past if it was a dog). But here, on Franklin Road, which was hilly and rarely traveled, if you did see a dead animal, it never looked like this.
Carla couldn’t see the fur anymore—couldn’t even tell what kind of creature it was. The animal was—Carla squinted as she veered around the tight curve in her banged-up maroon Camry. There was no other way to say it. The animal was run-through. Run-through over and over again.