I drove.
Radar sat beside me. Quiet. Reflective. I wondered what it was like for him right now. Lethal shootings by cops are much rarer than people think and I knew he’d never been involved with one before. I wondered if dropping that knife by the body should’ve bothered me more than it did.
It was a hard question to answer.
Since we’d rushed out of the department this morning right after my meeting with Dr. Werjonic, and then driven straight to Griffin’s place-and from there to the farmhouse by the landfill-Radar and I had both missed lunch. In fact, the only thing I’d eaten all day were the muffins and bananas I’d had at breakfast when Taci broke up with me.
Not a memory I wanted to be carrying with me right now.
I hadn’t even had any of Thompson’s cherry turnovers.
My stomach could definitely tell.
We stopped at a gas station that had a Subway. I filled up the car while Radar grabbed us some foot- longs.
We’d gone about another five miles before it occurred to me that I’d once again missed Dr. Werjonic’s afternoon seminar. This time, though, I figured I could get copies of the notes easily enough when I connected with him about Slate Seagirt.
“So, how are you doing, Radar?”
“Good.”
I was no counselor by any stretch of the imagination, but it seemed like I should at least offer whatever help I could. “If you want to talk about…”
“I’m good.”
I drove for a bit. “You remember when Lyrie was involved in that shooting last year? The gang kid? He-”
“I don’t need to talk to Padilla, Pat. I’m good.”
I didn’t have to mention a name. Radar knew right away I’d been talking about our police chaplain.
A pause. “Right.”
We continued down the highway as darkness spread across the countryside. It was almost ten minutes before Radar spoke again. “Do you believe in hell, Pat?”
“Hell?”
“Yeah. For people like Griffin.”
“You know, when we were back there, I was thinking to myself that there’s gotta be a place set aside down there for guys like him. I’m not sure if I believe in a literal fire and brimstone hell, but for people like Griffin I sure hope one exists. What about you?”
“I believe there’ll be a reckoning.”
“A reckoning? You mean like Judgment Day?”
“I guess so.” He didn’t go on right away. “I guess because I believe that both love is real, and so is justice.”
I thought I could see where he was going with this. “You’re saying justice doesn’t always happen in this life. People get away with rape, murder, whatever, so-”
“Yeah. So if there’s no hell, there’s no final justice in the universe, not really. It’d mean those people just commit their crimes and then die like everyone else. If justice exists, if it’s more than just wishful thinking-”
“There must be a hell.”
“Yeah, or a reckoning, or whatever, and if there’s no heaven, there’s no hope, no victory; we would all just die and be gone. Love wouldn’t win in the end.”
I’d never thought of it quite like that, but what he said rang true to me. “So you think, Griffin, he went there? To hell?”
“I think he deserved to.” It wasn’t quite a direct answer. I thought maybe he would go on, but he left it at that and, though his words made me curious, so did I.
Then he was silent and I was silent and we drove toward police headquarters so he could pick up his car and go home to his wife and kids. And I could get back to work.
66
The only other person Joshua had ever heard speak of the Vaniad, the blood oath of the Teutonic Warrior, was James Oswald, a man who reminded him so much of his own father.
Joshua didn’t know what the oath was exactly, his father had mentioned it but never shared it with him. Perhaps he would have gotten around to it if Joshua had not buried him alive.
However, Joshua did know that breaking the oath was tantamount to treason to those who’d taken it. His father had made that much clear to him. And in a press conference after his arrest, James Oswald vilified his son, Ted, for supposedly breaking the oath.
The mention of the Vaniad by James Oswald back in 1994 was what had first interested Joshua in his case. Heather Isle’s book about Ted and James had been helpful in his research too. The more he found out about the relationship of the father and son, the more his interest was piqued. That was why he’d chosen to end this week’s saga at the bank in Wales where they’d committed their final robbery.
Earlier today when he’d gone by the bank, he’d almost been able to picture where SWAT would set up their command center, where the media vans would position themselves to do their remotes.
After leaving the bank, he’d rented the moving truck and had it delivered to the department store parking lot, where it was waiting for him.
Now, Joshua thought about tomorrow.
He had the funeral to attend at noon and then he could swing by the department store for the item he would be delivering to police headquarters. Then he would go to the school to pick up the children.
After he’d gotten them out of the school, he would deliver the package-something that would certainly be enough to convince the officer he had in mind to do as he was told.
And finally, at dusk, everything would culminate with Joshua’s final ransom demand being met, live on national TV.
With traffic, the trip to headquarters was slower than it should have been and it was 5:42 p.m. before I finally pulled into my parking spot in the underground garage.
“Hey, listen,” I said to Radar, “I think I’m going to meet up with Ralph later tonight, have a couple beers, process things. You’re welcome to join us.”
“Yeah, I think I’ll pass. I just need to get home.”
“Right, well, listen, you did good out there.”
He opened his door to leave, but then stopped short and looked at me, his eyes intense, searching. “Would you have done it?”
“Done it?”
“Fired. If you were standing where I was. If you saw what I did.”
I didn’t know what to say to that; I didn’t know what he’d seen. “Of course.”
“Thanks.”
“For?”
“Finding that knife on his belt.”
Again I wasn’t sure how to respond. “Yeah.”
Then he exited the car and walked silently across the parking garage toward his Jeep.
When I reached my desk, I found a voice message from Dr. Werjonic that he was hoping we might be able to meet for dinner. Ralph had also left me a note asking me to call him so he could take me out for that beer he’d promised me this morning.
I was still digesting the sub, but my hunger wasn’t completely satiated and I figured I could manage eating
