‘Now what can we expect if this storm hits as a Cat 5?’ the perky anchor on the television asked the weatherman.
‘Well, that depends on where it hits, Jennifer,’ the weatherman replied with a smile. ‘With sustained winds over one hundred and fifty-five miles per hour, Category 5 storms are monsters. There will be extensive damage wherever it makes landfall, if it makes landfall as a five. With sustained winds right now of one hundred and sixty-two miles an hour, Artemis is a whopper of a storm, but it’s still seven to eight days out. That’s a long time in the life of a hurricane forecaster. The computer models are literally all over the board on this thing, from a southeasterly turn over Cuba to a march across northern Florida, to a dead hit on Miami like Andrew in ’92. We have a system of high pressure that is moving in from the Canadian Rockies, which could change the whole game. So we don’t know what to expect at this stage. What everyone in the state of Florida should be doing right now is going over their hurricane preparedness checklist …’
‘It’s a sign,’ Tru Zeffers said as he walked up to join Daria in front of the small portable TV that sat on the CO’s desktop next to the security station in death row. ‘All them tornadoes, earthquakes, tsunamis, floods — it’s all a sign. World’s ending in 2012, just like them Mayans predicted,’ he added with a chuckle. ‘Might as well have some fun ’fore we go, don’t ya think? Glad to see you back up here, Dairy-uh, though I’m sure missing them heels.’
Daria offered him a half-smile. ‘I took your advice, Sergeant. Found the flattest pair in the closet. Don’t remember even buying them.’
‘Tha’s a damn shame. It’s a crime to hide them-there legs of yours in pants, too,’ he said, biting his knuckle. ‘Forgive me for being honest. Where’s Detective Alvarez? Thought your bodyguard would be up here with you today.’
She felt her face flush with guilt. Manny had no idea she and Collier were back at Florida State Prison. She figured she’d cross that bridge and have that conversation after they got the names out of Bantling. Manny was definitely gonna be angry, but he’d also have some more bad guys to go catch. A lot more. This was a case that could ultimately define his career. ‘No,’ she replied softly. ‘He couldn’t make it.’ She peered down the hallway and glanced at her watch. She’d been sitting there like a dolt for almost an hour. ‘Do you know if Mr Collier is ready for me, Sergeant?’
‘Yep. He sent me to rustle you up. He’s an ornery fellow, that DA boss of yours. Sure-footed, too? You’d think he was the one running things.’ Obviously, Jus’ Tru didn’t care much for Vance Collier.
Zeffers walked her to the room on Row B, the same one she and Manny had interviewed Bantling in weeks before. Zeffers motioned to the cameras and the door opened with a buzz.
It was immediately obvious the party was over. The deed was done.
Vance glanced up from his notepad and nodded for her to sit next to him. ‘Names, Mr Bantling,’ he continued, without missing a beat. ‘Now it’s time for names.’
Bantling kept his eyes on Vance’s legal pad. ‘We were just talking about you, Ms DeBianchi. I hear your partner, Detective Alvarez, won’t be joining us today. I’m assuming he doesn’t approve of Mr Collier’s deal with me? Maybe you don’t either, since you were not here to broker it yourself.’
Vance tapped the pad with his pen. ‘Don’t worry yourself over who approves and who doesn’t, Bill, because, frankly, I’m the only one who matters in that department. You should be worrying about giving me those names, or there’ll be no deal. You can carry on enjoying the view from here.’
Bantling glared at Vance. ‘I’m not stupid enough to give you anything without an agreement in place, so don’t try to bully me, Mr Collier. And that agreement will be authorized and signed off by a judge in front of my very eyes. Forgive me, but I don’t trust my attorney and I don’t trust the government and I especially don’t trust your office, Mr Collier.’ He turned to the slightly disheveled man in a jacket and tie who sat beside him. ‘Sorry if I offended you, Henry. I’m sure you understand, since that we just met an hour ago.’
The man nodded and extended his hand across the table. ‘Henry Davies, Office of the Capitol Collateral Representative.’ CCR, as it was known, was the state-funded office of appellate attorneys who represented indigent death-row inmates in their appeals. Underpaid and overworked, his talents likely stretched thin dealing with dozens of clients, Bantling was probably not exaggerating when he said he’d met the man for the first time today.
‘Daria DeBianchi, State Attorney’s Office.’
‘You’re lucky I’m sitting here, Mr Bantling,’ Vance cautioned with a dark look. ‘Perhaps you don’t know who I am. I don’t make deals I can’t make good on.’
‘No deal, no names — until I see it in writing, stand in front of a judge and hear it from his lips,’ Bantling insisted. ‘Then I’ll tell you what you want to know. All about the pretty new kiddies on the block, too. The scouts. That should help you climb the ladder, Ms DeBianchi.’
Vance stood up. ‘We’ll bring you back home, Bill, but the deal will be contingent on all the information, and I do mean every last bit, panning out. It is also contingent on the value of the names provided. I’m expecting to eat filet mignon, here, not chop meat. Do I make myself clear? And if I bring you down to Miami and you fuck with me — you don’t tell me what I want to hear, what your attorney is suggesting that I’m going to hear — you will rue the day you were born. Understood? You will also be required to testify in any and all proceedings that we need to secure convictions against the individuals you identify, so don’t expect to be sunbathing on South Beach, Mr Bantling. If you keep your end of the bargain, if you satisfy all the conditions I set forth, then you will get what you want. I’ll draw up the agreement and send you a copy, Mr Davies.’
The CCR attorney nodded. Daria thought he looked more than a little uncomfortable when she and Vance were buzzed out and the cell doors closed behind them, leaving him all alone with his new client.
They said nothing to each other as Zeffers escorted them through the steel maze to the main entrance. Jus’ Tru made a couple of attempts at small talk with her along the way, but he seemed generally demoralized and intimidated by Vance, who glowered at the sergeant every time he opened his mouth. Especially after the Chief Assistant, who was a former Marine, picked up not only a Glock .40 from the gun locker, which he always carried under his tailored suit, but also the Sig he toted in an ankle holster. Maybe Tru had felt a fellow-cop camaraderie with Manny that let him loosen up, whereas today he was both outgunned and mentally outmanned. He skulked away without even saying goodbye to Daria.
‘Okay. Our flight’s at eight and we have an hour’s drive to Jacksonville airport,’ Vance said, sliding on sunglasses and checking his watch as they walked through the parking lot. ‘Damn, it’s hot, isn’t it? Like an oven up here in the boonies. No sea breeze. Not that Miami is much cooler, I guess.’
‘Dragonflies,’ she remarked softly, looking at the ugly monster insects that flew around them like drunk drivers. ‘It’s gonna storm.’
He looked up at the sky. ‘Speaking of which, you hear anything about that hurricane?’
‘It’s still too far out to say, but I’m worried,’ she replied. ‘I’m hoping it turns north; I don’t have renter’s insurance.’
Vance laughed. ‘Sweetheart, if that thing hits Miami at a hundred and sixty miles an hour, we’re all fucked. All the insurance companies will go broke, along with the state, so it won’t matter whether you have insurance.’
When they’d reached the car, Daria turned to look at the prison. Dark tiny figures, silhouetted by the setting sun, walked the outer-ringed deck of the watchtowers. A line of chained inmates was being brought back from the runs and into the facility for the night. Even though she was clear of the prison walls and out in the sunshine and fresh air, she still felt dirty, like she’d taken a bath with the devil. Instead of being clean, his slime was now all over her. ‘Jesus, Vance,’ she said quietly, ‘I hope we’re doing the right thing here.’
‘Oh, he’s never getting out,’ her boss replied. He knew exactly what she was talking about.
‘How is that possible?’
‘You heard me in there. I said if he keeps his end of the bargain. And that won’t happen. He’ll be testifying till I say he’s done. And he’ll never be done. This is the best offer he’s ever gonna get — the only offer. He no longer faces the death penalty and he has a sliver of hope to one day walk the streets again. It’s a great plea. Henry Davies could’ve insisted on specific language in the agreement, something more definite, more pro-Bantling, but he didn’t. Why? Because he probably has a wife and daughter of his own. See? The man’s own attorney doesn’t want him ever roaming the streets again. He’s representing the devil and he knows it.’
He opened the car door. ‘Now let’s get going. I need to grab something to eat and I don’t think there’s another flight out tonight. The last place I want to be stuck when the sun goes down is in this bumfuck town,’ he said, nodding in the direction of the watchtowers as he got in. ‘It’s like Salem’s Lot.’
Better to let one guilty man go free so that they could put ten more guilty men behind bars, she told herself as she, too, got in the car. It made sense. It was for the greater good.
Yet she couldn’t shake the corrosive feeling in the pit of her stomach. The one that she’d woken up with. The one that’d gotten progressively worse throughout the day. Like a scared animal who senses the devastating earthquake that is to come days before its arrival.
He was only one man. Just one guilty man. And he would never actually get ‘out’.
But even as they drove under the twisted iron sign and away from the prison, the feeling did not subside. That was when Daria realized that she couldn’t outrun what she had done any more than she could justify it.