messed up, Noah, and there’s nothing you can do to fix it.”
“I did what I had to do,” I say, and there’s no strength behind my words. No conviction. Not now, now that I know Conrad is going to walk free.
She shakes her head. “You did what you’ve been wanting to do to Conrad for the last ten years.”
“That had nothing to do with this.”
“I wish I could believe you. Despite what you think, we could have made a deal, found her safe, and Conrad would be going to jail and you’d be keeping your job.”
“His father would have made sure that didn’t happen.”
She stands up and moves behind the chair and puts her hands on the back of it. “Listen to yourself, Noah. Sheriff Haggerty isn’t the enemy here. He’s been good to you all these years. He would have done the right thing, but you let your anger cloud your judgment. You let the past take over.”
She’s right. “I’m sorry.”
“You know, despite everything, I don’t think you are.”
My headache is coming back. “So what happens now?”
“Now we figure out if we can keep you out of jail.”
I rub my temples. It doesn’t help. “That’s not what I meant.”
“No?”
“No. I mean what about us?”
She takes some of the strands that didn’t make it into the ponytail and tucks them behind her ear. Some of the anger slips from her features, replaced with sadness. “I wish you’d given that some thought earlier,” she says. She turns and a few paces later she’s at the door.
“Meaning?”
“Meaning you almost killed somebody, Noah. You tortured somebody, and I don’t see any remorse, I don’t see contrition, and given the chance to do it all over knowing the outcome you’d do the same damn thing.”
“Maggie . . .”
“What it means, Noah, is you’re not the person I married. I have to go.”
“Please don’t,” I say, but she’s already gone.
Five
Downstairs the surgeons are operating on Conrad and I’m told by a doctor they’re confident he’ll be okay. She tells me the bullet hit bone but missed vital arteries and I act like that was the point. Victoria x-rays my hands and tells me I have a couple of fractures in my right they can’t do much about, other than taping my fingers together with a splint.
“Ice and painkillers are your friends for the next few days,” she says.
“They’ll heal up okay?”
“They will. For now, just think of them as spoils of war. How mad is Maggie?”
“About as mad as anybody can get.”
“She’ll be okay,” she says.
“I don’t think she will. How’s Alyssa?”
“Banged up, but doing okay. She’s a tough kid.”
“They run a rape kit?” I ask, and my stomach tightens in anticipation of the answer.
She nods. “He didn’t touch her. Whatever he was planning on doing, he didn’t get to do it.”
Her answer makes me feel better about the way tonight has played out. She leaves to get me some painkillers. I stare at the doorway wondering who will come in next, and that turns out to be Father Frank Davidson. He comes into the room looking taller than when I saw him earlier today, the good news of getting his niece back alive not only lifting him emotionally, but physically too. He hasn’t shaved in days and his dark hair is going in all directions. He comes in with a big smile and his hand extended. I figure this guy more than anybody must be truly committed to his faith, especially after what he’s just gone through. Then again, he probably thinks God is why his niece came back to him in one piece, but I’m not sure how he’d equate that with her being taken in the first place. His hand crushes mine and I bite down on the pain and he doesn’t notice the splint. Until yesterday the last time I spoke with him was to tell him a logging truck had rolled onto his sister’s car.
“Thank you,” he says. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I couldn’t have lost her,” he says. “Not as well.”
“I know.”
He lets go my hand. “And you? How about you, Noah? Are you going to be okay? I heard what you did.”
“I think you’ll need to do some praying on my behalf, Father.”
“What you did — that kind of thing weighs heavily on good men. It might not feel like it right now, but you’ll question what you’ve done. I’m thankful you got my little girl back, I truly am. I just . . .” But whatever it is he wants to say he doesn’t have the words. He fiddles with his clerical collar, trying to get it sitting right. He keeps looking at me and I keep looking at him, and then he shrugs. “I’ll be here for you, Noah. Whatever happens.”
He asks me to come and see him tomorrow. I smile and tell him I’m not in a place where I can make plans. He pats me on the shoulder, nods solemnly, and thanks me again for getting Alyssa back. He gets to the door at the same time Victoria is coming back through. She hands me a small plastic container full of painkillers.
“Only take them when you need them, and don’t take them when you don’t.”
It’s good advice, especially since we’ve both seen what can happen when people misuse them. I take two now.
“And Maggie, she’ll come around,” she says. “I know she’s mad now, she just needs some time.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“Sheriff Haggerty told me to let you know he’s waiting out in the parking lot.”
“Okay. Thanks,” I say.
“You want me to come with you? Mightn’t hurt to have some witnesses in case he decides to shoot you.”
“I’ll be fine,” I say. “Maybe have the surgeons on standby, just in case?”
I slip the pills into my pocket and head out. Doctors and nurses turn to watch me as I go. It makes me feel like a condemned man walking the final piece of real estate between jail cell and noose. The main doors slide open and the night outside is just how I left it, warm and glowing from the parking lot lights and buzzing with energy. Sheriff Haggerty is leaning against his car with his arms folded and his big shoulders bursting at his shirt. I have no idea where Drew is. He’s either been fired or sent home or both.
“Noah,” he says, nodding in my direction, then his eyes flick to the hospital behind me, faces are pressed to the windows. Hopefully that means he won’t shoot me.
“Sheriff.”
“You shot my son.”
“I did.”
“You shouldn’t have done that.”
“Your son shouldn’t have kidnapped Alyssa Stone,” I say. “Your son shouldn’t have chained her to a basement wall to do whatever it was he was going to do.”
He shakes his head. “According to him he overheard those two guys in the bar and he gave you their location.”
“And you believe him?”
“He’s my son.”
It’s what I expected. Everything I did felt justified while I was doing it, and feels twice as justified right now. If I’d brought Conrad in for questioning, we’d never have gotten